Remember last time when I said some company was going to stumble into getting everything I spent fifteen years building? Yeah, that happened. Her name is Vallen USA, she is a world class organization with an international footprint, and they came to the table like they actually wanted to be there. For those who do not know, Vallen is one of the largest industrial distribution companies on the planet. They supply everything from safety equipment to specialty tools across three continents and have been doing it longer than most companies survive. I accepted the position of Organizational Development Manager on Monday the 11th. Fully remote. Pay raise. That last employer who gave me the boot shall remain nameless from this point forward because they have received their last syllable of free press from me. That chapter is closed. Moving on.
I have wanted an international company since Bridgestone and I finally have one. The team I am inheriting needs modernization, structure, and someone who knows where the landmines are because he stepped on most of them personally. Vallen USA is not just reading from the script either. They genuinely seem fired up to have me, which is a nice change from companies that hire you and then act like you showed up uninvited to their party.
The house is formally listed and I have already had three showings. Once it sells, the plan is to head back to Grand Rapids. My good friend has offered up her basement for me and Mazie, which means I have a roof, a litter box location, and zero pressure to make a permanent decision while my brain is still in transition mode.
Now here is where it gets interesting. I am tossing around the idea of buying a big obnoxious RV and doing the snowbird thing between The Mitten and Tennessee while I run out the clock on the next six years to retirement. Just me, a cat who judges me constantly, a laptop, and a vehicle the size of a studio apartment that I will inevitably back into something. Buy, lease, rent, go full digital nomad, become one of those RV people with a bumper sticker that says “home is where you park it” like that is not also the unofficial motto of every divorced guy living in a van behind a Walmart. Every option is in play because the job I landed makes it possible. That is what full remote and a fair salary buys you. It buys you choices.
Before I sign off I need to say something that does not come naturally to me, and that is thank you. To every one of you who helped me bridge this gap. The ones who kept me laughing when I was running on fumes. The ones who called or texted when they knew I was probably sitting in the dark at two in the morning one rejection away from faking my own death and showing up in Uruguay as a guy named Steve who makes a suspiciously good margarita and never talks about his past. I do not have a big circle. I never wanted one. But the people I chose to keep in my life are fucking amazing, and I would not be writing this with good news and a cold drink if it were not for them. You know who you are.
Q
Q is a meat Popsicle living in Nashville with hopes and dreams of running away to retire earlier than all his friends. Skilled in the witchcraft of not giving a damn about the Jones’ and filled with a did it or damn it mentality. His thoughts are his own, and he is no role model.
