Everything in life has an opportunity cost. This is the only thing I retained from my econ class back in college.
You make a choice in life and lose out on some other route you could’ve taken.
Here’s the full investopedia definition:
Opportunity cost refers to a benefit that a person could have received, but gave up, to take another course of action. Stated differently, an opportunity cost represents an alternative given up when a decision is made. This cost is, therefore, most relevant for two mutually exclusive events. In investing, it is the difference in return between a chosen investment and one that is necessarily passed up.
Though it may not have seemed like two mutually exclusive events at the time, I now reflect and regret the road I took. Three years ago, I fell into a slump for a lack of a better term:
- I plateaued in my career falling back on a family business after I no longer felt I could grow in my previous role.
- I had a great boyfriend I was totally ungrateful for. He catered to my every need and I took him for granted. The silly thing about stupid young love is you never appreciate “the one” that’s always there- it doesn’t register as fun, but rather boring and safe.
- Nothing thrilled me. I felt I had no passion and no specialized talent which resulted to no direction.
These factors played into a formula where I jumped at the opportunity when a buzz came through my phone pinging me for a position at a dream role. Okay, so it wasn’t a DREAM ROLE, but it was fucking brilliant. Work on the westside where the air is crisp and people are gorgeous, market for a licensed product that the whole damn world knows (hint: they now own marvel AND star wars), and of course eventually move out to westLA where people not only wear yoga for class but as a way to show off their glorified yoga bodies at brunch.
Three years have passed as swift as winter in California, and I find myself sitting at the room where it all started. But it feels different in this chair now. The chair collecting dust at my parents house. Though, I’ve grown up, I reevaluate and realize I’ve lost close contact with all my friends. The oh so perfect boyfriend fell out of the picture after I broke up with him. I’ve literally created a rift between my closest family, and I’ve made choices that have only alienated me from the ones I love more and more.
I’ve jumped ship and gone to an even better company. I have a not so terrible condo I now own 2 miles from the closest beach. I somehow make enough to drive a BMW,
I, I, I…
The opportunity cost of having all those I’s. Was it worth it in the end? I’m sitting here wondering, if I feel this lonely and sad now, what was the point of landing my dream job?