Dr Jeff Cornwall

Dear Brett,

First, as a loyal Packer fan let me thank you for the great memories — the Monday night miracle after the death of your father, the Super Bowl games, the last minute come from behind victories like the one my brother and I watched together in Houston.

But, now that you have decided to retire from football — at least that is what you are telling us today — let me offer you a little unsolicited advice.  Learn to define who you are beyond just what you have done for a living.

It was a lesson my wife helped me learn after we sold our business.  She put me in time out — no deals for at least six months — which forced me to really stop and ponder who I was beyond what I did for a living.  It helped me remember that I was more than just an entrepreneur.

We should not let ourselves understand who we are only by what we do for a living.  Don’t simply define who you are as a person by your career as an NFL quarterback.  Don’t get me wrong — that must be a really cool job!  However, do not let yourself define who you are too narrowly.  

It seems to me as an outside observer that you may be a bit lost.  I worry that you may have fallen into the trap where nothing else in his life has any real meaning without that career to define yourself.

I have warned entrepreneurs that they should not define who they are only by the noun of what they do for a living.  Although they may start and grow businesses, defining themselves as only an entrepreneur seems to crowd out so many other important parts of their lives.  

We have seen evidence of the danger of defining who you are by what you do in your work from others who have also failed their attempts at retirement. Lee Iacocca could not stay retired as a corporate executive.  Dan Rather could not stay away from the teleprompter after he retired from the evening news.  And just like you, Magic Johnson and Michael Jordan could not stay retired as athletes. For all of them, it appeared that they may have let what they did for their work define who they were as people.

Careers can do this to us. If we are not careful, they can consume all that we are. And what gets lost as a result?  Our families, our friendships, and even our souls.

If we are to become all that we were put on this Earth to do, we have to temper the temptation to become consumed by our work. We need to resist becoming the noun of what we do for a living.

So Brett, work hard at being a good husband. Work hard at being a good parent. Work hard at worshiping God if you are so inclined. Work hard at being a good friend to those who know the real you — not just the guy who wears #4. Work hard at being a good citizen in your community. Remember that none of these alone can fulfill our humanness.

One of the risks of using nouns to describe what we do in our work is that it can reinforce the tendency we all have to get carried away with our work. I loved starting a growing businesses (most of the time, at least). I love teaching and writing. It is indeed a blessing to love what one does for a living and joy the hard work that goes along with it. But, I need to be more than just an entrepreneur or a teacher.  With every virtue there is a vice looming in the background. Although hard work is a good thing, it can be taken to excess and become a vice if it keeps us from all the other things we should be doing with our lives.

American society does not make this any easier. I am reminded of the lyric from a jazz record from the 1980s that said, “Everything in moderation, and moderation is the first to go.” We have become a culture of excess.

This is particularly true for the entrepreneurs out there who read this blog. We seem to create folk heroes out of entrepreneurs who expend Herculean efforts to achieve success in their businesses. And while this is good to a point, if entrepreneurial success comes at the expense of our marriage, our families, our faith, and our friendships, it is a hollow victory. If all we have at the end of our lives is our wealth, if that is all we leave behind, that is not a life well lived. As the old saying goes, “you never see a hearse with a luggage rack.”

I hope you find fulfillment in the rest of your life on the Earth.  After all, the actuaries tell us that as someone about to turn forty, you have lived less than half of your expected life.  And whatever it is you decide to do next, always keep room in your life for all the things that really matter.

Best regards,

Dr.C.