The most boring question of all time

"So, what do you do?"

At any gathering of adults, especially adults who are friends of friends, rather than part of the inner circle, this question will be uttered hundreds of times during an evening out.

And I used to hate it.

Still do.

As if the essence of all the greatness within me can be reduced to a title on a business card.

As if what you do during your hours of work is what you truly value in life.

My current potential answers:

• I'm an accountant;
• An investor;
• An explorer;
• A Sport Psychologist;
• An entrepreneur (covers a lot of bases this one);
• An aspiring Olympian;
• A father;
• A husband;
• Unemployed;
• A trainee pro golfer;
• A musician;
• A recording artist (yes, really. Check out my new single)
• A fitness fanatic;
• A YouTuber;
• Unemployable;
• A writer; and
• A DJ

Your answers may be different. I hope they are.

But the thing is, despite this long list and the variety of things that I do, my wife still struggles to answer the simple question:

"So, what does Jon do these days?".

Well I'm all of the things in the list above and more.

"Yes. Yes. Yes. That's all well and good, but what do you actually do?"

Back in 2018, I was running a chain of craft beer shops. It was a business I'd started from a single small store in Putney and had grown to a chain of 6 stores across the South East of England.

I'd fallen in love with craft beer and the whole industry. The people were lovely. The industry was small and welcoming. The product was amazing. It was good times.

But with the growth and the success came problems.

I suddenly had a team of over 30 people who all wanted holiday or were ill or didn't turn up for work or wanted a pay rise or who just couldn't stop stealing the stock!

I also had to try to re-create the Amazon distribution network from scratch - I would buy beer from breweries all across England, drive it to a Big Yellow Storage, unload it, split it up, repackage it and then get that beer to all of my 6 shops. I spent my days carrying heavy beer from A to B and then driving it around London.

It got more and more stressful.

This wasn't what I'd envisaged. My hobby (drinking nice beer) had turned into a small business (which was lovely) then growth had turned it into a monster.

But at least my wife knew what I was up to. It was decent honourable work. Sort of.

And she could say with confidence that I was an entrepreneur. I had started a business and it was growing.

Yeah. But it was shit. At least in the end. And I was drinking far too much.

So, after winding down my alcoholic facilitation business in 2019, I suddenly had a lot of free time.

So I decided, on a whim, to enrol at University and learn something.

Using my brain again was a revelation. It had been so long. I loved my time at St. Mary's University (Twickenham). I came away with a Masters degree in Sport Psychology.

But what I really came away with was a lot of new skills. And you know what was the most important skill I learned?

Listening.

Yep. Listening was the main skill I came away with. And that may sound silly. Frivolous even. But listening is a superpower. And it’s a dying skill.

In today’s noisy world if you can listen, you can change lives.

So to answer the question, “what do you do?”, I’m listening.

Listening to my children (and, occasionally, my wife). Being present. Not on my phone. Not thinking about work issues. Not drafting an email to my boss. Being there. Really listening to them.

I disagree with what they’re saying at least 50% of the time (though not my wife, she’s right all the time. I don’t dare disagree with her. And she's going to read this so I need to be careful what I say.)

And I’m trying really hard not to interject. Not to disagree. Not to tell my own stories.

To be honest, I’m failing at this. They talk such nonsense and they’re so wrong, so much of the time. But I’m trying. I'm really trying.

You see most people just want to be heard. Want to be really listened to.

That what sport psychology taught me. Talk less. Listen more.

Most successful client “sessions” are when they manage to talk about something with you that they haven’t been able to say to anyone else. The act of talking is their therapy.

As a parent, if we can’t listen to our children trying to work out the world. Their world. Then who will?

There aren’t many people who will listen to someone without judgement. Parents and therapists. That’s probably it. No wonder the whole of Gen Z is in therapy. No one else will listen to them.

So what do I do?

I’m listening to my children. When they're in the house, I’m there to listen.

To make coffee, to make breakfast, to listen.

To take them to football. To coach them. To take them to golf. To teach them to drive. To watch them play. To support them.

Is this all too much? Am I the ultimate helicopter parent?

I don’t think so. I spent the first 7 years of my daughter’s life barely seeing her. Barely being there for my wife. I don’t think it’s too much to be making amends for that now.

I’ll admit that this isn’t true all of the time. Sometimes I'm too busy to be there for them. Too wrapped up in some task. And they can be really annoying.

But I’m trying.

As for what I do when they’re at school, well that’s a story for another day.

Stay quiet. Talk less. Listen more.

Jon