I’m going to pretend your job isn’t being Mayor of Toronto, so we’ll cut out all the politics from the get-go. I’m going to pretend you have a job in upper management at some private company for the sake of this letter. Okay? No politics, no right-left whatever. No snark.
I see that you skipped out on yet another very important meeting, one that’s your responsibility. And the reason this time was you had to go coach football, because the coach has to be at the game or the team doesn’t play.
Rob something is becoming clearer and clearer to me every time I hear about something like this. You are an Everyman in one aspect of your life – but you’re not a good ole boy, you’re not a folk hero, you’re not just one of the guys. You are not an Everyman that way.
But like millions of folks out there – you clearly don’t like your job. You might even hate it. And that is where I think you are Everyman.
Millions know how you feel – the shuffling in at the last possible minute, cutting out early whenever you can, the frustration with your colleagues. A lot of people in this world don’t like their jobs.
They have to go to work anyway. Why? Because they don’t have another job lined up. Their options are limited. Until they line up something else, they’re essentially stuck. Terrible feeling.
Rob? You do have other options. You could work at your family company. That’s the most obvious one. The less obvious one?
Follow your passion. Turn your football foundation into a full-time thing for yourself, and those kids. Because honestly – that’s when you seem happiest. That’s when you work your hardest, I think. That’s when you seem at your best, most positively affected by something.That’s what it’s like to live your calling. Imagine feeling that way all the time? And people all over cheer you on about this initiative. They think it’s great. They think it’s great how much you care.
If you’re in politics because your Dad was – well, maybe it’s not for you. And we all want to please our parents, but you know? Ask any parent what they want for their kids and they’ll say, “I want them to be happy.” You’re in your forties, Rob. So am I. It’s time to be happy, and follow your dream.
Now I’m not saying write up a resignation letter today. But do some thinking. You’ve got a couple of years left in your contract. You’ve already got the – well, the foundation for a foundation. Maybe do some thinking on how to make that an even bigger reality.
And when your contract comes up? Don’t renew it. Don’t even throw your hat in. Concentrate on what would really make you happy. If it’s football and those kids – so be it.