I’m late-career. I’m good at what I do - I might even say great. I have a unique blend of skills, aptitudes, and personality traits that naturally suit me for what has amounted to a very successful career. Not too long ago I accepted the offer to work the job I have now. While it is not the most money I have ever made, I am certainly paid pretty well - and I am constantly thankful and grateful that, somehow, I have not aged out of what I do.

Here is the punch line: this job is ridiculous. With the exception of a couple of in-person meetings, I have probably averaged no more than 5 to 10 hours of real work per week. And yet they love me. And yes, I love them, because I have so much time. I have recently become torn between devoting hours every day to a couple of important hobbies, or taking the plunge and trying to find J2, or at least a side gig.