Ah, I remember how I hung a chalkboard on my door when I was 14, with a complete list of all the professions I believed I would become professional in. . . . it was twenty something and subject to additions. My older brother, a Ph. D. in electrochemistry said if I just did one it might pay the rent. Ten years later, when I had actually run through about fifteen jobs, and when I was trying to wow folks with my C.V. ?/resume, another Ph. D. (Physics/Chemistry and college prof) brother said nobody would hire me because I couldn't keep a job. At Twenty five, when I told my father I was going to marry a black chic, my father, a MIC M.S. head of four national corporate labs for two companies, told me I'd never get a dime from him.
They were all right. And I'm happy to still have a conscience of my own, and some smallish businesses of my own including a ranch.
But maybe I'll have to go back to a regular sort of job again if cash flow starts getting tight. I am good with that too. I can smile and do what I'm told by complete idiots who can make payroll.