Tie Jobs

Ever since I was knee-high to my teddy bear, my world seemed governed by success. I remember the first time I saw skyscrapers, on the way to my first dentist appointment on the eighth floor of the nineteen-story-high Medical Arts Building. I remember first looking up at those tall buildings in awe, but that made me dizzy so I stuck to looking around me. I looked at the pigeons, I looked through the windows of the big bookstore, but most of all, I looked at the people: The men and women in business suits, staring straight ahead, passing each other by. And all of them wearing ties.

It’s not that I hadn’t seen ties before. My dad wore them on occasion, basically whenever someone died or got married. Those two occurrences never seemed all that closely related in my mind, but I was told that a tie was appropriate in both situations, so I just nodded and moved on. But here, in the middle of the city, no one was dying or getting married, yet everyone was wearing ties. This puzzled me at first, but as I stepped into the elevator of the Medical Arts Building holding my mother’s hand, it dawned on me what ties really symbolized: success. Wearing a tie showed you had everything together, that Fortune’s wheel was spinning your way, and that wasn’t about to change.

My dad never wore a tie to work. He worked from his home office, so after breakfast he would just put on some jeans and a sweater and head up to his office that was always just a bit too cold to be comfortable. When other kids asked what my dad did for a job, I was always a bit puzzled on how to answer. “My dad’s a lawyer”, one said. “My dad’s a doctor”, said another. “My dad’s a physicist.” The list went on, but there was always one thing in common with those jobs: they were tie jobs. Those people wore ties, so they must’ve had it together. All around me were people with tie jobs, at church, at school and even on my teeball team. Yet there was my dad, typing away in his office. Why didn’t he have a tie job? Wasn’t he successful?

Then one night, after a great game of foosball with some of the guys from church, we all sat down for some refreshments and we started to talk. That night I found out that two of my friends had little to no relationship with their father. Josh hated his dad. Zach barely ever talked to his father. This hit me like a gunshot. Their dads wore ties to work, so they were supposed to be successful. Why weren’t they?

A couple weeks later, my family was invited to a wedding and my dad taught me how to tie a tie. While I hated dressing up, I remember being super excited to be able to wear an actual tie, so my dad gladly taught me how to put it on in the mirror. And that was when it hit me: As my dad tightened it around my 11-year-old neck, I realized how difficult it was to breathe, and I realized how akin a tie really was to a noose. It was like the people with the tie jobs were hanging themselves daily.

I thought of the people in the business suits again, staring straight ahead, cold and emotionless. Dead. These were people who were giving their lives away to their jobs, and leaving nothing but a shell for their family to know. Then I thought of my own dad again. He was there every night and every morning, ready to tuck me in at bedtime or rush me off to school. He was there to go on Sunday afternoon bike rides or play Rummikub with our family in the evenings. He is my example of success, even though he didn’t wear a tie and drive to Minneapolis every morning. All along I had envied those whose parents had high-paying city jobs. I had envied the tie jobs. But now I’m certain success really shows itself in a different form: not in suits, ties, and hefty paychecks, but in character, good will, and love. Success doesn’t come with a college education. It comes with a good attitude and caring for your loved ones. It comes in the form of everyday people like my mom and dad, people who are willing to stand by you and be there for you in the darkest of situations. Those are the successful people, and those are the people that make a difference.