"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We had a bit of a situation earlier, but it was nothing to be concerned about. We've had to alter our flight path due to active missile activity in the area."
That was the captain. I was on the flight, heading home. Not for long. For a shower and a repack.
Somewhere over the rerouted bit, I had a very clear thought. What am I doing?
The handshake and the reality
The role was meant to be 20% travel. A trip a quarter to Germany, one to Sweden, one to Asia. That was the deal we shook on.
It became 50% Asia, plus Europe, plus London. Often more. My EA's real job stopped being booking flights and became working out which way round the world was cheapest that week.
Shanghai to Heathrow used to take 11 hours. With the reroutes it was routinely 14 or 15. I'd clear the terminal, find the car, pull onto the drive, and the house would be dark. Everyone in bed, or about to be.
I'd stand in the kitchen working out whether the garden could wait another week. Sunday morning, I'd repack. Monday, Shanghai.
My eldest son was getting ready to leave for university. I could see the countdown. I just couldn't stop the machine.
What the policy didn't cover
I thought I was winning. Money, respect, validation. I probably was, from people whose opinion doesn't matter to me now.
I read plenty of travel policies. Not one had a line for what the travel actually cost. Not the fares. The conversations I was too tired to have. The version of me my family got on four hours' sleep and recycled cabin air.
I call it the owner's tax, and I'm not blaming anyone else for it. I took the role. I got on every flight. The missiles weren't my choice. Being on the plane was.
The ledger with my eldest is closed. I can't get those years back. So I changed what I could: Saturday mornings at the rink with my younger son, coaching his team in the evenings, almost every university open day this time round. I'm there for my daughter in ways I wasn't before.
Check your handshake
Most roles and most businesses drift the same way. Not in one big decision, but a trip, a client, an evening at a time, until the deal you're living bears no resemblance to the one you agreed.
So pick one commitment that's grown. Travel, a client, a weekly meeting, your working hours.
Write down two lines:
The handshake. What it was supposed to cost you when you said yes.
The reality. What it costs you now, in days, evenings and missed things.
The gap between them is a deal nobody renegotiated. Including you.
I thought my job was to provide for my family. I was providing for a house I was hardly ever in.
Steve
