Looking for Work

12 January, 14

 I was twelve years old with a vision for the rest of my life. I have total respect for people who work for others. There is dignity in every vocation, except maybe politicians. I just cannot work for other people, at least not for very long. Three years is my record.

Living in Spain has been an incredible adventure for me and my family. All of us have taken some bumps and bruises along the way, but it is definitely worth it. After four months, however, I am now ready to start work.

Work in Spain presents a bit of a ticklish problem for me. My "Non-lucrative Visa" does not allow me to earn income in Spain. Obtaining a "Work Visa" is very difficult, because priority for any job goes to a Spanish citizen first and next to a member of the EU. With 25% unemployment, the Spanish government is wisely protecting its citizens from an influx of cheap foreign labor, like me, by limiting the number of work visas. Other than working under the table, which I will not do, that leaves me only a few options.

I can make income, as long as it is paid in the USA. That means I can be a consultant or free-lance something. Many Spanish language websites need better English translations, which I can do from home. Getting published is another avenue. The other option is to get a job in America that pays me to be here, which is untenable for me.

This is an inherited trait, so I feel absolutely no shame in saying that I do not want to have a J-O-B working for somebody else. One day my daddy took me to lunch at the Rainbow Restaurant out on North 5th Street in Hartsville. Sitting at the table were 10 or 12 guys, all friends of my dad's. In a moment of clarity and inspiration, he asked me a question: "Boy, what's different about all these fellows at this table?"

I looked around, and other than the fact that they were poster children for the poorly dressed and slightly overweight, I really had no idea.

Then the Mind of Main Street said, "Everybody at this table right now owns his own business, and he's sitting here because he wants to be here. Everybody at the local mill, from the janitor to the president, is at work right now, because he has to be there."

That was a Eureka! moment for me. My dad has no recollection of it.

I am not lazy. I actually like to work. I love to see the results of blood, sweat and tears. Being highly goal-oriented makes work fun, most of the time. Since 1998 I have oriented all my energies toward creating passive income through rental real estate.

Some of that time, we have been poor. We qualified for Medicaid when Katherine was born. Other times we ate like kings. All the time, however, I knew I was doing the right thing for me and my family. All the time, Susan was by my side, walking some long hard miles with me.

Now we are in Spain. Everybody, in Spain and in the USA, asks us what we do for work. When we reply, "Nothing", an inevitable cloud of confusion and doubt creeps across the landscape of their faces. The concept of working for others is so ingrained in us, that seeing something other than looks false or unreal. That is the fruit of the Industrial Revolution. While obviously gaining from the incredible technological leaps, perhaps we have sacrificed some of our independence.

My family, on both sides, has a long heritage of entrepreneurship. A witches brew of Scots-Irish orneriness and Southern independence drives us to unloose the yoke of economic slavery. Sometimes we eat rocks, but free rocks taste better than hand-me-down steaks.