New Car

I just bought a new car. After acknowledging the amber digital message relentlessly suggesting that the transmission needs service, the glowing red check engine light, and the gaping boxer-dug holes in the rear leather seats (front seats were already replaced), I finally succumbed to the ads on TV. How could I not? They were promising me I’d be happier, more confident and sexier when I drove one of their new shiny coupes. I’d also be popular, rich, in my thirties, have abundant dark hair, perfect skin and gleaming teeth. 

My search began. I was very specific in my selection process. The new ride had to have the comfort that I was used to, the size I was used to, the color I was used to, the sounds and smells I was used to. I soon determined that I wasn’t looking for a newer better model; I was looking for a way to stay within my comfort zone. Looking for a way to stay the same. 

Then one day, for giggles, I test drove one that was different from what I’d been programming myself to want. Perfectly fitting leather glove. Tight supportive elegant pair of shoes. Memories of taking the wheel of my first sports car. Comment dit-on… How you say, “vroom”?  

As I drove away in my new self-expression, I paused for one last look at what, for the last several years, I had been driving. There it was: the representation of the vivacious image of my life, my times, and my prosperity, parked there, still and small, in the dealership lot. Gone were the vanity plates and its PetMassageTM and IAAMB/ACWT window decals. All of a sudden, I saw an old car whose paint and ch’i had begun to fade.  

All the years I’d been driving it, I’d felt proud to be in it; pleased to identify with the sporty sophisticated image I believed it projected. When it was new it had been fresh and amazing. I’d become so comfortable in it and accustomed to it that I hadn’t noticed that it had grown tired. Like an old comfy sweatshirt torn, worn, faded and stained, it had served me well; and, it was time to move on.  

It is easy to get stuck in a comfort zone. Sure, the check engine light comes on and the alternator needs replacing ($600) and the suspension is not as tight as it could be; but that could be said for any of us.  

Sometimes it can be really healthy to take a good look at what you are doing, what your image is representing, and whether or not what you are doing, what your image presents support attainment of your goals.

• Are you doing what you love to do?
• Are you loving what you are doing? (Which is very different from “Do you love what you do?”)
• Are your business and its image, fresh and current? (Do your business cards invite social network followers?)
• Are you learning more skills?
• Is your business growing?
• Is your commitment as strong as it was when you began?
• Are you in the position to mentor someone coming into our field?
• Is your check engine light flashing?
• Vroom.