We were discussing this week how hard it can be to find the right person to do a specific job, and how hard it can be to find the right job for some people. It’s all about the match of person and interest. Where there is real interest, almost always the capability follows, or is it that where someone can do something well, their interest is kindled.
That’s a bit of a chicken and egg scenario, and I don’t think I want to pursue it this morning.
I remember a young man, way back when I was young. He was my sister’s boyfriend’s brother. (Yes, one of THOSE connections Belinda). We went out as a foursome sometimes, but there were no real sparks between us, of either desire or loathing.
He was not happy. His father had forced him to take a job in a bank, and he was not happy there. For some reason both young men did not like their stepfather, a gentle and pleasant man. So he was not happy at home either.
His brother raced saloon cars, and he helped. Then they plotted and planned, for a big race, which category they could win. We girls were roped in for essentials such as polishing ports and pistons and picking up bits and pieces. Come the great day (it was a day because it was an endurance race) and off we went.
We spent a happy time at the pits (by then I had learned to wear jeans and a t-shirt, not a dress and a while jersey as I had on my first outing to Kyalami race track). The boys drove well and WON their designated class. Enough money for him to get started in racing on his own. At the same time he was ‘discovered’ by a ‘figure’ in the local racing scene, and he left the bank and did his apprenticeship to become a mechanic with him (which he completed in a very short time as he already knew so much).
He was seldom as clean as he had been in the bank. Getting grease out of one’s skin is not as simple as washing and scrubbing. He was working with what he understood and did well. Within a few years he had moved up in the racing car classes, won the competition for the year, the prize was to go racing for a team in the UK.
Off he went. When he returned after a couple of years, with a girlfriend about to become his fiancée, he had blossomed. He had driven in the le Mans 24 hour race, he had competed mostly in the UK but also elsewhere, His conversation, previously sometimes a bit painful, was open and happy. His smile was frank and charming. He was attractive in ways he had never previously been.
He had found his metier and it showed.