Years ago, soon after my brothers convinced my parents of the dire need for a Nintendo, my mother found an old, over-sized water pitcher. Made of thick, light green glass, the pitcher was heavy even when empty. As it sat empty near the living room's sliding glass door, it distorted the sun's rays that peeked in during the late afternoon.
This particular pitcher sat not far from the Nintendo console; small, gray and boxlike, the orignial Nintendo was a beautiful sight to behold. Though my brothers thoroughly enjoyed endless bouts with Bowser (Super Mario Brothers), shooting down innocent "game" birds (Duck Hunt) and rounds of boxing (Mike Tyson's Knock-Out), they still pushed on for additional games.
One Sunday afternoon, after several rounds of Knock-Out and pestering my mother to go out and buy more Nintendo games, she finally became so annoyed at the pushing and urging that she decided to do something about it.
She called all four of us over to the water pitcher and had us gather around. Her fists were closed tight around jingling change and we watched as she began to slip the pennies, nickels and dimes through the opening to the pitcher. Each one fell no less than a full sixteen inches to the bottom, emitting a muted clang as it impacted with the thick glass.
"This," she said with a grand gesture. "is the Game Jar. As you find change around the house, at school, on the street, you'll put it in here. When it's full and ONLY when it's full, will you be able to use all of the change to buy a new game. You must all agree on that game but your goal for right now is to fill up the Game Jar. Go!"
For about half a second, my three brothers and I looked at each other before splitting off in search of piggy banks, coins buried underneath the seat cushions and to scour our driveway for any shiny change (we were not allowed to go beyond that point so it seemed lucky to even find one nickel and two pennies). For a few hours, the Game Jar held our complete attention and though we argued about what game to get (I did NOT want a sports game), the ultimate goal of a new Nintendo game, any new game loomed before us.
In the days to come, school, sports and activities ultimately demanded more of our attention but we still slipped change into the game jar. Given how massive the jar was, though, a month's worth of extra change barely managed to completely cover the bottom.
Months slipped away and turned into years. The beloved, boxy Nintendo console was replaced by a Super Nintendo, a Jaguar (remember those?), a Sega Genesis and nearly every other piece of gaming technology that also sat in the homes of our peers. As I'm the youngest of the four siblings, I had the longest amount of time living at home with the Game Jar. I barely noticed it after a few months, though I occasionally saw the level of change rise. Over time, that old water pitcher actually began to fill up with loose change. I realized that though my brothers and I completely forgot about the Game Jar, my mother was still slipping in loose change.
One afternoon when I was a senior in high school, I was curled up on an oversized chair with an oversized AP U.S. history book in hand. I cannot recall what period in history I was reading about on that cold day but as the winter sun came out from behind the clouds, a few rays clipped the top of the water pitcher and a gleam caught my eye.
"Wow," I thought to myself. "How long has that been there? Twelve years? And it's just now coming up to the top? Ha! I wonder what Nintendo game we should get. Too bad we got rid of that old thing years ago. We COULD use a new Dell computer or something else, though..." A crooked smile broke out on my face as I turned back to the interminable history chapter in my book. In the back of my mind, however, an idea was forming.
A few months later, after I'd begun adding in my own change to the coins my mother periodically added, the pitcher was full. With no brothers left at home and zero interest in a game of any kind for the remaining Play Station console, I convinced my parents of our dire need for a new computer. Shocked as I was when they agreed to let me even see how much changed was in there before heading to Best Buy, I found it ironic how much harder it was for me to even lift the over-flowing water pitcher. Several plastic bags (money bags?) later and a good fifteen minutes pouring loose change into a money changer at the grocery store, we actually found that twelve years worth of loose change gathered in an oversized water pitcher can equate to nearly $200 worth of money.
A few days worth of computer research and several conversations with a techie later, I proudly set up the new Gateway desktop in our computer room. Over the months, as my brothers came home and logged in to whatever archaic email system we had at the time (this was ten years ago now so I'm thinking it was AOL), they all commented on how awesome it was that we finally got something out of all that change. The goal had changed, obviously, as life changed, technology evolved and we evolved with it; in the end, however, we ultimately got exactly what we needed.
I tell this story not necessarily because I'm in a remniscent state of mind right now; in all honesty, I think it's a good illustration of how life impacts our goals and though we must evolve along with our aspirations (whether they be professional, personal or even game-console related), the importance of still striving for those goals cannot be stressed enough. Though it's really a silly little family story, my mother could have easily stopped putting money in the Game Jar a few months after my brothers and I ceased paying attention to it. We never would have known nor would we have cared. Moreover, I could have simply rolled my eyes at the rising level of change in the Game Jar, wondering why anyone was still paying attention to it; instead, I realized that though we grew out of the Nintendo as quickly as we grew out of shoes at that time, our goal for ultimately obtaining a new piece of technology was still there.
When it comes to careers, everybody's Game Jar looks different: some people may want to be in a career that makes them a lot of money while others are looking for a more emotionally fulfilling job. In other situations, some people may look for a medical job while others shy away from anything related to blood, guts and gore and aim for a career in the IT field. Whatever your goal is, it's beyond to remember that, over time, the goals you initially had in mind will progress in different ways and rather than let the goal fall by the wayside, you must continue marching along and simply tweak what you want. If your goal to become a partner at your law firm is sidetracked after you fall victim to the recent onslaught of legal layoffs, take the time to strategically plan out how to move forward in your career. Instead of thinking to yourself, "I worked so hard here and didn't make partner at this place so it's just not going to happen and I'm giving up." is defeatist. Alternatively, and as with the Game Jar, you can acknowledge that while your original plan fell through, you can still move forward and reach your goal another way.
How have your professional goals changed in the last few years? How have you changed along with those goals? Do you feel that you're still aiming for something remniscent of yor original goal(s)? Why or why not?
Lastly, what does your Game Jar look like?
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