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The Meaningfulness of the Task

Most People Don’t Think Outside the Box > Consequences > No One Knows Why They’re Doing What They’re Doing

Thomas drives home thoroughly frustrated. Why does he do this to himself, he wonders? He must’ve chosen the job because, for one, the challenge and opportunity of leadership were very appealing. Secondly, he found the product genuinely exciting and wanted to share that enthusiasm with others, with the customers.

And now this situation. His team is disintegrating, the tasks aren’t getting done, and, besides, he feels like he’s not up to the challenge.

What he really wants is to just go home, lie down in bed, and hear nothing more of it. Then a thought occurs to him. After all, the best thing he could do would be to get together with some friends and wash it all down with a few beers and good company. Good thing he remembered! Thomas calls his friend Max. Max agrees immediately and they also ask Tim and Matt. That’s it; the troops are assembled.

They all go out together later that evening and Thomas can finally let off a little steam. Tim, who probably understands him best on a professional level, starts a conversation with: “Hey Thomas, that stuff at your work doesn’t sound too good at all. But you were so enthusiastic at the beginning and wanted the job so badly, I remember.”

That hits Thomas right where it hurts. He thinks about it and must agree with his old friend. He can’t give up that easily. After all, he searched a long time for something like this before he found the job. He did want it badly.

“You're right,” Thomas replies. “I really imagined it differently. But it’s so much work, so many menial tasks, and the team is so inexperienced. I really have no idea who picked them, but it couldn’t have been anyone with particularly great experience either. Then, when I think about my bosses’ expectations, I’m completely deflated. All I can say is that theirs are completely exaggerated.”

“But what’s really bothering you?” Tim wants to know.

“I got the job because I really want to make a difference. Remember when we were teenagers and swore, we’d only take jobs where we knew we could really make a difference and change the world?” Thomas lets out a sigh and adds, “I guess I was just being way too optimistic. Nowadays I feel like a hamster in a wheel and, in reality, it doesn’t matter at all if I’m doing the job or someone else is. I have the impression that my company only wants me to assert its ‘interests’ to make money, preferably with an iron fist. And then, when I've worn myself out, I’m supposed to say, ‘thank you for this wonderful opportunity,’” he adds bitterly.

“Well, you could just make a career out of it,” Tim interjects.

“What do you mean?” Thomas asks.

“That’s just the way other managers out there do it. They buckle down and buck up. Granted, maybe that’s not quite what you had in mind, but if there’s no other way to keep the job, what choice do you have?”

“Are you serious? Is that what they teach you in your company?” Thomas asks, baffled.

“No, I wouldn't say it’s intentionally conveyed,” Tim replies. “But when I think of all the meetings where my subordinates’ welfare is at stake, where I'm supposed to give evaluations and have to deal with all that trivial bull-…” Tim looks down, pausing, and then continues, “…then I’m already better off just going along with it and making a career out of it.”

Thomas, not satisfied with his friend’s somber statement, replies, “look, I got the job because I want to make a difference, I want to leave the world in a better place than I found it. But when I look at last week’s results, I seriously wonder what I’m doing. It’s all so far from what I imagined. What am I actually changing? Why should I get involved at all? It all seems valueless. And if that’s true, then I might as well chuck it out the window and become a consultant or an expert, and then I don’t need to motivate my team anymore because then I simply won’t have a team to deal with. Maybe that’s really the better choice: going for the consultant career.”

“That might be the thing, you know,” says Tim. “At the end of the day, it’s all about making money, bringing home as much dough as possible. Buy your own house, go on vacation with your family, get a nice hobby. That’s what makes you happy, fulfills you, and that’s all there is to it, then you’re good to go,” says Tim.

Thomas, confused and somewhat shocked, stares at his friend. Such a thing from the mouth of Tim, the model student, and ultimate motivator? That can’t be true. Was I wrong about Tim this whole time? Is he really just out to make money? Thomas asks himself. He continues out loud, “well, you may be right, but let’s have another beer and talk about something more positive, like soccer.” Tim laughs and immediately jumps on the new topic.

They part ways late into the evening. Thomas walks down the streets toward his apartment, slightly drunk and wondering what to make of tonight’s events. He feels lonely, not properly understood. It makes him uneasy. At The Huckleberry, the last pub before his apartment, he stops for a moment and thinks to himself, no one is waiting for me at home anyway. I can have a nightcap here. An old purple VW bus with a few boards on its roof is sprayed on the pub’s facade. It’s really well done, Thomas remarks to himself. He used to come here more often and remembers the fun evenings with friends, and one with a special girlfriend, in particular. Those were the days, Thomas thinks. Days gone by. These kinds of memories seem just that to Thomas – memories, or moments gone and out of reach, now.

Thomas thinks the bartender must be between 45 and 55 years old by now. He chuckles to himself as he opens the door. Like clockwork, Thomas sits down at the bar and orders himself a large Pilsner, the light, cold taste snapping him out of his melancholic thoughts. Light music plays in the background; the pub is near empty.

After a while, the bartender comes up to him and asks, “well, would you like a whiskey with that?”

I can’t believe the bartender remembers that, Thomas almost says aloud. He cannot remember ever having exchanged a word with him.

“I’m Jan,” the bartender says amiably. “Nice evening so far?”

“Yes.” Thomas knows that’s not exactly true. He quickly asks, “why are you actually doing what you’re doing, Jan? I mean, I love coming here and your other guests always look happy when they leave here, but it is just a pub, you know, so I’m guessing their happiness isn’t just about the alcohol you serve them, right?”

Grinning, Jan replies, “how much time you got? What's your name?”

“I'm Thomas, and yes – no other plans tonight.”

“All right,” says Jan. “Do you know the saying, ‘he who tends to nothing becomes a bartender?’” Jan asks. Thomas nods.

“I was ashamed of that for years – that I only became a bartender,” Jan confesses. “But at some point, I told myself, ‘you know what? That’s a good thing.’ I said to myself, ‘people like to come to me, just to see me, chat and have a drink. Who can say that about themselves, that they get a bunch of nice people wanting to see them every night?’ Some pour their hearts out to me. Some are just happy about the music. And sure, others talk amongst themselves and don’t really notice me at all. But then some are searching for the meaning of life…” Jan pauses briefly, winking at Thomas.

“Those people are my favorite because they’re not just interested in talking but listening, too. To my story, for example. Don’t worry. I won’t completely bore you. I’ll give you the abridged version for today. So, I had a very strong business in the US. An export business. I bought up old VW buses, had them brought over here to Germany, restored them, and sold them for good money. That went really well for a while, and I really enjoyed it because I just love VW buses. Then my girlfriend was in a very serious accident. It threw me for a complete loop. I lost everything in a very short period, and my girlfriend, she… she didn’t make it, after all.”

“I’m sorry,” Thomas interjects, grimacing at the thought. “It’s all right. It’s been a long time since,” Jan continues. “As I said, I was totally off track. In a bad place. I couldn’t handle it, started drinking, let myself go. But finally, one day, I felt this sudden urge and knew it couldn’t go on like this. I rented this bar here of all places, and it was to be my last project. My last go at the thing. I gathered up the bits of money I had and thought, ‘there must be other people who feel as I do, have similar experiences – people I can share these things with. Maybe that would make me feel better.’ But it turned out quite differently, I can tell you that much. No one wanted to hear my story. But everyone did want to come to my pub because I created a nice, friendly atmosphere here. I watched the patrons as they left, came back, and left, and over time I noticed that most of them were happy, perhaps slightly tipsy, but even more cheerful leaving than when they came in. And suddenly it just dawned on me, and I understood that this was my job. That’s what I’m supposed to do: make people happy. I want them to feel joy from what I create, even if it’s just as simple as a nice, friendly bar. Now think about it, Thomas. All the friendships that have been formed here, all the ideas exchanged, people who’ve gone home happy – all because of my pub – and, you know, even all the babies err-…all the relationships started.”

They both chuckle. “He who tends to nothing becomes a bartender," Jan adds in an old, heavy accent, “and if you do it right, I may add, you make other people happy and inspire them.”

The two keep chatting for a while and at some point, Thomas finally bids Jan goodnight and goes outside, taking those last few steps to his apartment building.

Back home, at last, Thomas falls onto his bed and sleeps a dreamless sleep through to the next morning.

Waking up and hobbling to the kitchen, he makes himself a morning coffee to get rid of the stale beer taste. After the first sip, the events of yesterday flood his mind. The strange conversation with Tim. Feeling a slight headache beginning to pulse, Thomas realizes he doesn’t want to think about Tim at all. He remembers the conversation he had with Jan. It was so open, something completely different. Jan radiated a joyful presence Thomas can’t remember ever encountering before. Questions tumble and turn in his mind: Why am I doing all this anyway? What is my real motivation? What or who am I changing? What is the real result of my work? Is there even a point to what I'm doing? Perplexed, Thomas spends the rest of the day grasping at illusory, unsatisfactory answers.