The Keychain

I was flying to Boston awhile back to see my daughter at college. A great excuse to get out of town. A fellow in his fifties came down the aisle, stopped, checked his ticket and placed his carry-on luggage in the overhead storage nearby. He kept his laptop and a pad of paper and asked me if he could get by me get to his seat. I moved out of his way as best I could. As he slid into his seat, I noticed that, on the keychain he had attached to his belt, there must have been 15 or 20 keys.

"That is a lot of keys," I commented, "You must wear a lot of hats."

"Yeah I suppose I do," he agreed. "And you know, I wouldn't mind if I wore a few less hats than I do."

"Why?" I asked.

As he got settled into his seat, he continued, "It's like this. I own my own company. It is not a huge company, but it is my company. It is pretty substantial. When I started out, our building was a hole in the wall. We struggled from week to week to keep the company afloat. And then one day, things clicked and the rest is history. Now my company has offices in 4 states and serves clients all over the world. I'm the boss and I get to wear many hats and I have to have the keys for every one of those offices with me when I travel."

"That makes sense to me." I said. "Tell me. Are you enjoying your success? When you survey everything that you have built so far, are you pleased with your achievements?"

He looked tired. "Yeah, I guess. I mean you have a dream and you bust your behind to make it a reality. But you actually turn that dream into something that actually exists. It is an amazing feeling. An amazing feeling." But somehow, the way he said that carried with it something unsaid.

I asked him, "Was it all worth it? I mean you must have worked really hard to get where you are today. Was becoming a successful businessman really worth it in the end?"

He looked at me. "Sometimes I think it was, sometimes not. Nothing is free and when I think about the price I have paid over the years, I am not always sure. "

He removed his keychain from his belt and fingered through the keys that were attached. He continued, "That one cost me going to my daughters dance recital when she was 8 years old. That one cost me going on vacation a couple of years ago with my family to Disney. That one cost me an ulcer. That one pushed up my blood pressure higher than you want to know. And this one..." He paused momentarily. "This one cost me my best friend when business got in the way of a friendship that had lasted for 30 years."

I didn't say anything. What was I going to say? I was taking all this in and seeing a man who was living the American dream and a man who had discovered that in realizing that dream, had also discovered a hidden dark side to that accomplishment that no one sees until one gets there.

"I apologize," he said. "Sometimes, I just get tired and wish things were a lot simpler than they are for me now. After awhile another successful year for the business no longer means quite as much as it used to."

I looked at him and said, "I can understand that. Sometimes the things we wish for the most don't turn out to be exactly what we thought they would be. Live and learn, eh?"

He gave me a wan smile. "Yessir... live and learn."

He reached down and picked up his laptop, placing it on the food tray. He lost himself in his work and I lost myself in the Broadway music I was listening to on my MP3 player.

Time flew [a fully intended pun]. And before we knew it, we were landing in Boston.

As we were leaving the plane, I told him, " It was a pleasure travelling with you. I hope it gets better for you."

"Thanks a lot. I hope it does too," he said as we shook hands.

I remember conversations like that, long after I have had them. I live and from those conversations, I learn.