As I was sitting in my cubicle staring at the clock to strike 5 pm to signal the end of another riveting day as a professional accountant, I heard a notification echo across all the computers in the office. I figured it must have been another office-wide email explaining that leftover food was available in the boardroom. I whipped out my snacking fork as I opened the email to uncover the location of the goods. To my disappointment, it was an email from the CEO, and it did not concern free cake. It was an announcement declaring that because of the poor results the company had recently faced, there would be major layoffs in the foreseeable future. Immediately, people started losing their shit. I was ecstatic.
I’d only worked in the financial industry for a few years, but since day one, there was always a notion in the back of my mind that it wasn’t the right career for me. However, the few moments in my life where I didn’t bring shame upon my Chinese upbringing were when I graduated with an undergraduate degree in Accounting and Finance, a Masters in Accounting and succeeding in the professional accountant designation examinations. Besides for those, I fail at every other aspect. My musical abilities are non-existent. I’m not married or even close to being at that stage. I got so wasted during a family Christmas one year that I passed out before our Kris Kringle gift exchange. My poor aunt didn’t get a present that night because of me. Nevertheless, I did achieve the dream for the majority of Chinese parents to see their offspring become a member of a well-respected profession where jobs aren’t hard to come by, pay well, and have a clear-cut career ladder.
At this particular job, my life wasn’t too hard. I typically worked from nine to five and was compensated well enough that my condo in downtown Toronto was a five-minute walk to the office. It provided me with a pretty comfortable lifestyle where I never had to turn down going out with friends for dinner, concerts or sporting events owing to financial constraints. The issue was that the work itself never excited me. I have this one problem where I couldn’t sit still consecutively for more than five minutes. Being forced to sit in a cubicle for eight hours a day was torture to me. In my mind, getting laid off would unshackle me from the desk for a few months while still getting paid. It was perfect.
A few weeks went by, and my boss called me into his office for what he described as a chat. This was it. The big moment had finally arrived. With the biggest smile on my face, I hugged and high fived all my team members as if I just scored the winning touchdown. In my state of confidence, I even gave permission for my coworkers to start splitting all my snacks amongst each other.
Once I was able to control my excitement, I entered his office, and we talked about the wonderful features of the new office chairs. Just to clarify, us accountants aren’t necessarily boring people, we just get excited about boring things. At this point, my mind was already in vacation mode, so it caught me off guard with what transpired next. My boss said, “So in the midst of the reorganisation that’s been going on, I want to talk about your recent performance. We believe you’re doing an extraordinary job and want to give you a bonus and a raise.”
I nearly fell out of the leather, triple-cushioned, lumbar supporting chair. In my mind, I was thinking, are you talking to the right guy? I literally just came back from taking a nap at home during my extended lunch break. He later added, “You must be so happy right now!” I tried to hold back the tears of disappointment.
As I headed back to my cubicle, the question that would reshape my life emerged in my mind. Was it worthwhile to do something that made me unhappy every day for the rest of my life in return for a defined career path and a steady income where I could afford to live comfortably?
I’d been wired to say yes, but I knew deep down I wanted to answer no.
My main issue was that I didn’t know what other way there was to live. I’d heard of the stories of people who turned their hobbies into careers and had no regrets, but did they actually make any money? Is money of any importance if you’re spending all your time doing what you love? What did I even enjoy doing?
Other than work, my life revolved hanging out with friends, but I didn’t think they liked me enough where I could make a career out of it. I didn’t play any video games, watch television or have any hobbies other than sports that came to mind. After years on the Kentucky Fried Chicken and McDonald’s diet, the dream of becoming a professional athlete was pretty much nonexistent.
Instead of accepting the raise and promotion, my plans were to resign and take some time to try and answer these questions. I needed to step away from my routine to determine what made me happy and the things that I valued in life.
Then, a thought occurred to me. Why not leave the bubble that surrounded my life altogether? What better way to evaluate my point of view on life than to see how others live it in other parts of the globe?
Travelling the world could open my eyes to how other cultures perceived the world and help me gain new perspectives. I would be able to discover new passions and take on challenges that would not have been available if I remained in North America. I could take the opportunity to examine my preconceptions about the world that had been formed through the eyes of an accountant who spent his entire life in one of the most privileged countries in the world.
Growing up in Canada, I knew I took a lot of things for granted. I even found myself complaining when the toilet paper at home wasn’t Charmin. Visiting countries where clean water, food, shelter, and even safety were considered luxuries would put my petty problems into perspective and help me understand what’s worth valuing.
Although the skills that I gained working as a professional accountant were useful, there were attributes that I developed that limited my growth. I’d been trained to carefully calculate and evaluate the risk associated with any transaction and to avoid the courses of action that involve uncertainty. In order to get the most out this trip, I knew I had to overcome my fear of failure and take on challenges where the odds were against me from succeeding. I had to embrace uncertainty.
Along the way, I would take the opportunity to develop new skills and improve existing ones. After years of only interacting with my pal, Mic X (short for Microsoft Excel) for the majority of the day, I felt less comfortable speaking with real humans. Travelling solo would allow me to build on these skills and become more confident in my abilities. To put it into financial terms, I’d be investing in myself.
When I told my family and friends about my intentions that weekend, many of them warned that I was throwing my life away by taking on this journey. Everything I worked so hard for (or just worked) would go to waste. It was during those few days where I finally stopped seeking what others thought was best for my life and listened to my own voice. It was telling me to go on the adventure.
A few of my friends did remind me how I’d probably be the worst backpacker on the planet. Just for your mental backpack, here are just a few of their claims.
1. I’m extremely clumsy and injury prone. The number of times that I’ve sprained my ankle just walking on a flat sidewalk is astonishing. My lack of grace all started when I stepped up to the plate in a batting cage as a child. I guess I stood too close to the strike zone and a ball beamed me right in the face in my first ever pitch. Curveballs have continually been thrown my way ever since.
When I was nine, I sprained my knee jumping off the top of a flight of stairs as my aunt’s cat appeared out of nowhere. The fact that I get startled easily had a part in my inclination to jump, but it wasn’t the primary instigator. The main reason was my fear of cats and every other animal that was larger than a goldfish. Yes, I was that much of a wuss as a child.
As a teenager, I got a concussion just going to the bathroom. I fainted immediately after going number one in the middle of the night and slammed my head on the counter. You could imagine the look of horror on my parents’ face when they found me lying on the floor with my pants down and blood streaming all over their bath rug.
A few months into my last job, I accidentally dropped my employee ID badge in the urinal. Of course, it was face up, so all the guys in the office knew which idiot dropped it in there when they visited the washroom.
2. I’m lactose intolerant. But I also love all foods that contain dairy. I was in a dark place when the diagnosis came in at age fourteen that I would have problems with pizza, ice cream, and even sour cream and onion chips. Dairy is a staple in most cuisines, and I often have no self-control when it comes to food. Many nights end in a struggle.
3. In addition to that restriction, I’m also allergic to pretty much everything else. The unique way my body likes to respond to these allergens is by way of a nosebleed. One of these reactions transpired as I was attempting to clear the security check at an airport. To make matters worse, I have to carry a ton of different medication on me at all times. Appearing like a drug trafficker with a bag full of assorted pills and a nosebleed that could be perceived as a consequence to snorting heaps of cocaine is not a look I’m fond of, and neither are border security officers.
4. I won’t be able to sleep soundly without my baby SAM next to me. SAM is not a human, pet, or blow up doll. SAM stands for sleep apnea machine. I suffer from severe sleep apnea and require to snooze with a machine pumping oxygen through my nostrils. You might wonder, don’t only out of shape older men suffer from this condition? The answer to that is yes, but I am one of the few lucky outliers. In fact, my specialist said that I was the youngest and most in shape patient that had come through his office. Thanks, Doc, I’ll add fittest sleep apnea patient to my dating profile. So how does that make me an awful traveller? Well, the noises that I produce when not sleeping with a machine attached to my face are comparable to sawing wood. An entire lumber sawing factory, in fact. I won’t be able to bring my SAM with me on the trip so the chances that I’ll be able to make friends with any of my bunkmates at hostels will be slim.
5.I’m directionally challenged. I manage to take the wrong turns even with a GPS guiding my way.
6. I’m very prone to motion sickness. I can’t even run on a treadmill while watching television, let alone sit in the back seat of a car. Tuk-tuk drivers in Thailand will love me.
These were all valid points, but I went ahead and booked the cheapest one-way flight out of the continent anyway. Two weeks later, I hugged my friends, family, and SAM goodbye and headed to the airport with a carry-on sized backpack that consisted mainly of pills. I was both frightened and excited by the fact that I didn’t know when I’d be returning or even where I’d be staying the following night. But I knew that I’ll be okay as long as I found myself along the way; not lying naked on a bathroom floor and bleeding everywhere.