This is it. The last episode. This show debuted on March 18, 2014 with three episodes – Mike Gaughan, Cindy Sovine, and Jason “Bird” Calloway were my guests – which means that this show has been active for a week shy of 11 years. 372 numbered episodes, 421 total episodes, and 444 blog posts later, it’s time to call it quits and move on to something else.

In this episode, here’s what you’ll find:

• An explanation of why I haven’t done a show in more than six months
• The real, honest-to-God goal of Jon of All Trades, and how I achieved it
• Why I wish culturally we would all just shut the f*ck up more frequently
• How the 2024 election influenced my decision to end the show
• Why it’s mortifying being a straight, white, cis man in America in 2025
• Grievance culture and what to do about it
• Some crazy ass stats about the show – see if you can guess how many minutes and/or days worth of audio I’ve recorded
• What’s next
• Why it’s important to be the change you want to see in the world

I promise you, I go out with a bang, in a way only a Jon Eks Solo Episode can. Hear me at my most unfiltered, most raw, most honest, and filled with energy, cultural pissiness, and ultimate optimism.

I adore you for letting me be a part of your life. I hope this show has cheered you up when you’ve been down, given you new insights, taught you about what makes so many of us tick professionally, and just generally made you feel like time spent with me is time well spent.

So long, Jon of All Trades. This show has been a literal dream come true – seriously, listen to the episode and you’ll see – and the reason is you. Thank you for spending time with me. See you at the new place.

Say goodnight, Gracie.

– Jon Eks, Jon of All Trades

It’s been a month since I saw four of my favorite bands all perform together at Coors Field, and I can’t stop thinking about it. But not for the reasons you might assume. I mean, the show kicked huge gaping gobs of ass and is one of the greatest concerts I’ve ever been to in my life, but there’s something about it that’s sticking in my craw that I just need to exorcise right now.

It’s rare that all four bands in any lineup will align with an individual’s personal taste the way Green Day, Smashing Pumpkins, Rancid and The Linda Lindas did for me and my group of friends. I am a huge fan of all four bands, even The Linda Lindas who were the basis of last year’s Christmas card. In a lineup that size, there’s usually at least one act that I either don’t know or just flat out don’t like. But here’s the thing: I still go see all the fucking bands anyway!

And why wouldn’t I?! Yeah, I’m there to see the headliner, but it stands to reason that the headliner chose bands that they like to come on tour with them because a) they gotta listen to these tunes every night too; b) at some point the headliner was an opener themselves and a hand up is always appreciated and c) “hey if you like us, we think you’ll like these other bands too!”

Plus, it’s not like it costs extra to go see the openers! Yeah, Green Day is the band moving the lion’s share of the tickets, I’m sure Smashing Pumpkins is responsible for a good share of them too, but it’s not like you have to shell out a few more ducats to check out Rancid or The Linda Lindas. It’s not like buying supplemental insurance for a rental car. It’s bonus content! Think of it as free additional live music curated by your favorite band. It’s like the recommendations after a purchase on Amazon.com. “Hi, we’re Green Day! Thank you for buying a ticket to our show! You might also enjoy the music of Rancid and The Linda Lindas.”

In a 50,000 seat baseball stadium, The Linda Lindas started promptly at 5:30 pm. They played a very tight 20 to probably 4,000 people. Rancid started at 6:00 and played 30 minutes to maybe 10,000. By the time Smashing Pumpkins and Billy Corgan’s Nosferatu-looking ass came on at 7:00, the place was probably half to two-thirds full, a fact that only mystified me once Green Day started at like 8:30 and the place was packed to capacity. Half the fucking people didn’t even get there in time for Smashing Pumpkins?!

What was everyone doing? Having been at the entire concert, I can almost certainly guarantee you it wasn’t as good as seeing the opening three bands absolutely melt everyone’s faces off. The Linda Lindas damn near shoplifted the entire night because you’re not really expecting four teenage girls to play that heavy of punk rock while smiling wider than I’ve ever seen a live band in my life. In fact, see for yourself. Here they are playing their song “Nino,” which, yes, is about a cat.

I didn’t really know the other bands, anyway. So we just drank at home/at a bar until the bands we wanted to see came on. Cool! You do remember that at some point you didn’t know Green Day either, right? And that through some sort of alchemic sorcery, you did hear them, grew to like them, and are now paying out the ass to see them live, yes?

After talking to some friends who are in bands around town, people at stadium shows generally aren’t music fans, per se. Music is an abstraction, and concerts for these folks only happen in stadiums and arenas and amphitheaters, on special occasions, for a shitload of money. These are folks who are happy to shell out $500 to sing along to something as ubiquitous as “Wake Me Up When September Ends” with 50,000 other people because they’ve heard it 9 zillion times through sheer osmosis, but have no idea that awesome rock clubs like the Gothic, the Ogden or the Bluebird even exist in their very own city – clubs that Green Day played once upon a time, too. Never mind venues like the Marquis or Lost Lake or Globe Hall where you can get your nuts rocked off by local shredders for like $10 any old night of the fuckin’ week. Look up 924 Gilman St. in Berkeley and you’ll see where Green Day got its start playing for $5 to crust punk teenagers and alcoholic burnouts – quite the change from the theatrics and bombast of a baseball stadium tour.

Because that’s just it. Seeing the opening band or checking out a local club show is frequently an invitation to peer into the future. Here’s some fodder to illustrate that:

In 2000 I went to the Ogden to see punk band Face to Face. The first of their three support acts? New Found Glory.

In 2002 I went to the Bluebird to see ska-punk band Mad Caddies headline. Their openers? Rise Against and Yellowcard.

In 2003 I saw Beck at Red Rocks. His opener? The Black Keys.

In 2004 I again saw Face to Face at the Ogden. Their opener? My Chemical Romance.

I could go on like this, but you get the picture. And my point with this whole diatribe is not to shame anyone or make you feel guilty if you’re there to dry hump the headliner, and the headliner only, or to assert some dumbass hipster credibility about how I saw these bands before they were famous. My point is that I got to these shows early and fell in love with a bunch of new music and then got to follow along as more and more people discovered them along with me. I watched the crowd sizes grow, I got to support artists on their way up, I watched them evolve as musicians, and I got to take a really fun ride. And it didn’t cost me a single extra penny the very first night I saw them. Plus, it’s live music, the venue serves booze, you’re already with your friends… rocking out is its own reward!

I suspect 5, 10, 15 years from now when people are paying a shitload of money to see The Linda Lindas headline an arena tour, many of the people who were at Green Day will also shell out hundreds of dollars to finally see them, and maybe they’ll lie and say they saw The Linda Lindas way back when.

But will they be there for whoever opens for The Linda Lindas? Me and my crew will be. I hope you will, too.

Tacos! We’re talking about tacos! And tequila! What else do you need me to write here to get you to listen to this?

Ok, fine. Uno Mas Taqueria has been on South Pearl Street in Denver and on Olive Street in Fort Collins for the last 11 years, and Brian has been with them the entire time. Kris has been there for more than 8, and that’s emblematic of the culture they’ve created where they have low staff turnover and loyal customers. You can attribute that to them wanting to be “the bosses we never had” and thinking of a successful staff as a band where you need everyone playing in tune and listening to each other.

We also talk about their Tequila Club, how small businesses are analog spaces that help create community, the challenges of operating a restaurant in Denver in 2024, and a ton more. The biggest takeaway from this is that these are a couple of really good-hearted dudes, who run their business with thought, care and success, and they’re an absolute joy to feature. I think you’ll love it too.

Check out Uno Mas Taqueria on the web, on Instagram or at their two locations:

Denver: 1585 S. Pearl St.

Fort Collins: 120 W. Olive

Available on iTunes, streaming on Spotify, on podcatchers everywhere, and at the Jon of All Trades homepage.

WHOAA-OHHHHH-OHHHHH-OH-OHHHHH…. OHHHH-OH-OHHHHHH-OH-OHHHHHHH… OHHHHH-OHHHH.

This simple chant that serves as the chorus to MakeWar’s “Not Today” has been in my head all summer, and never more than when it’s 6:15 in the morning and I’m swimming laps outdoors against the backdrop of a rising sun on a beautiful Denver summer day.

I rediscovered my love of lap swimming thanks to a new pool membership this year that has been the shining light of the summer. I grew up in a pool. I spent virtually every single summer day of my youth at the pool, and stepping back into my new pool club feels like stepping into a time machine. Everything about this place feels like it could be straight out of 2002 or 1994 or 1986. Some things are timeless, and having a snack shack staffed by 12 year-olds that sell you Otter Pops for 10 cents only serves to supercharge these lovely feelings of nostalgia.

It’s an exceedingly basic pool that sits on a former military base, something that every guest with military service in their background that I have invited has pointed out to me very quickly. They can tell it’s a USO officers’ pool because the roofs are flat and uniform in height and we’re surrounded by old barracks (which now serve as some sort of British boarding school). Nice trees dot the grassy areas. Dozens and dozens of lounge chairs surround the deck. The pool is an anachronistic 30 yards that comfortably houses four lanes, and uncomfortably 6. The length of the pool bows out at the sides making the overall shape look like the pool is at the start of getting crushed by a hydraulic press. The bathrooms and showers feel like they haven’t been updated in at least 30 years.

 It’s a lovely place that has my heart, but I can’t help but think a bit of this tweet:

So much in our culture is manicured and branded and optimized to empty your pockets within an inch of its life that it’s nice when you find something that capitalist ghouls haven’t sunk their grubby little talons into, enshittified, and therefore ruined. Think of what Bowlero has done bowling alleys all across the country. Bowling used to be cheap as hell and charmingly shabby. Your neighborhood bowling alley was probably owned by a guy who never, ever wanted to get a real job and sort of just ended up owning this by virtue of just being there all the time because he liked drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, and hanging out with the other no-hopers in your community. That guy ruled because he had to maintain the alley to ensure a predictable and quality level of play, but he didn’t have finance jock brain geared toward perpetually increasing and maximizing profits as part of a bizarre impulse to mine every single aspect of society for a positive return to the richest (and therefore dullest) poseurs among us. He just made sure the pinsetter worked, the lanes were oiled, there were cheap hot dogs and shitty nachos at the snack bar, and the bar was always well-stocked with Budweiser and Smirnoff.

Been to a Bowlero lately? It’s like walking into a Dave & Buster’s that’s somehow even worse. Neon lights, cheap clip art animations on the screens, somehow BOTH Stephen A. Smith and The fucking Chainsmokers on giant screens that visually shout at you, crappy food that pretends to be artisan (Oooooohhhh southwestern egg rolls! *fart noise*), and $200 later, you wonder what you just spent your money on because the place literally has 3 people working there to serve 40 lanes.

Our swim club is unspoiled by all that. There’s no TVs, just some music lightly playing over a PA system. High school-aged lifeguards dutifully watch the swimmers and sometimes get tested on their life saving skills. No food trucks. No bar with craft cocktails. No stupid power card you have pump money into so your kids can spend $25 in under 10 minutes playing a rigged claw machine and lousy video games.

It’s analog, and analog is becoming one of my favorite genres of everything. We show up at the pool with our cooler, some snacks, a bag of towels and pool toys, and that’s it. We’re just a family enjoying the sun, the water, and each other. It’s the easiest parenting I do, and I’m surrounded by people of a similar ethos. This club is not super visible, and feels like a secret. It’s beautiful.

It reminds me of an extension of our Christmas trip to Hawaii. We went to the beach, the pool or both every single day in Maui. We just had each other, a few necessities, and the water. My kids want to yell at the ocean, play in the surf, dig in the sand, and be in the sun. I thought COVID had permanently robbed me of some of the joy I can possibly extract from parenting, which made me despair in a way I don’t despair about anything else. Re-connecting with my kids while playing in the water has restored it, and for that I am extremely grateful.

I went back and re-read some of these previous entries I write every year on my birthday. In my 30s nearly every one of them alluded to a “difficult year” (or just said that outright) and as I reflect on it, I can’t help but chuckle a bit. Granted, when I was 33 Grace was born and I got laid off from corporate in what marks a pretty substantial pivot point in my own personal journey, so I suppose it’s only natural that I’d frame my years as challenges considering I was getting my feet underneath me both as an entrepreneur and a parent. But time has a funny way of flattening out your memories, and I think back on the past largely with gratitude and joy.

It’s because I know now more than ever that joy is a choice. Since my last birthday, I have had two surgeries, dealt with health challenges for both my parents and mother-in-law, supported my wife through her own health journey, and attempted to continue to mold my children into versions of themselves that hopefully are well-equipped to experience joy, fulfillment, and success, all while maintaining my business. It’s a lot. And any given day is bound to throw me something specially designed to fuck me up to my core.

But whereas I used to fixate on the things that didn’t go right and allow it to dictate my entire mood, I’m actively working to focus on the many blessings and joys of my life, and I have many. I am living a life younger me would be intensely excited for, and one that hopefully future me looks back on with satisfaction and reverence. I won’t lie to you and say that money doesn’t matter. It does. I’m fortunate that I’ve found success and that money isn’t something I’m forced to worry about in a way that so many have to.

What I will say is that my financial success is a by-product of being truest to myself. I do work I find fulfilling, work with people I like, respect and admire, and lean into that which most makes me, me. Because if we’re not aspiring to the most authentic version of ourselves, we’re doing ourselves a disservice. I realized some time ago that one of the most valuable commodities I have is my bizarre and unique sensibility. People crave the unique alchemy that makes our personalities what they are.

This is why I hate Bowlero and love my swim club. Modern life has too much of the whimsy sucked out of it, and my goal is restore it. I wrote about this pretty extensively last year, but whimsy is the animating force of something like our annual beer pong tournament or Music Video Theatre. Injecting some off-kilter, non-utilitarian joy into our lives is something we all deserve and something we could all use more of. Choosing joy isn’t always easy, but becomes easier if we’re able to dial back the complexity of our lives and focus on simple pleasures.

The mornings I sat in my car this summer listening to MakeWar’s A Paradoxical Theory of Change album or anything by Bad Year or Tegan and Sara before I hopped in the pool to dutifully follow the black stripe underneath me are my favorites. Then I’d swim a mile, gliding through the cool water moving my body and allowing my brain to go into something akin to your computer’s Sleep Mode. Without being fully cognizant of it, my brain processed what it needed to while my body got some incredible exercise. I emerged from the pool each of these mornings renewed, refreshed and grateful.

The last words of “Not Today” by MakeWar are as follows.

Singing about it
Will help you detach
From that sick feeling of hopelessness
That’s still around
Sing it with me
Sing it loud
Sing until your lungs are empty
Then take a deep breath
And hold it, and hold it
Think about all those good times
That we lost
When we were trapped
In our mental cages
Is this bumming you out?
Oh, it’s bumming me out!
Now take it outside!
Watch all the birds
Then, take your first step
I hope you feel great
I hope you find all
The answers you need
I hope you end up
Wherever you wanted to be
I hope you feel strong
Because I know you’re strong

Wherever you are, thank you for being a part of my life. I wish you health, happiness, peace, fulfillment, joy and whimsy in your own life. And mostly I hope you’re able to rock out. Here’s this year’s list.

1-2-3-4!

WHOAA-OHHHHH-OHHHHH-OH-OHHHHH…. OHHHH-OH-OHHHHHH-OH-OHHHHHHH… OHHHHH-OHHHH.

1. “Not Today” by MakeWar
2. “Cerebral” by Bad Year
3. “California” by Delta Spirit
4. “Grand Canyon” by The Wind and The Wave
5. “Closer” by Tegan and Sara
6. “LUNCH” by Billie Eilish
7. “Take A Bite” by beabadoobee
8. “Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is” by Ella Red
9. “The News (Re: The Linda Lindas)” by Paramore & The Linda Lindas
10. “Coma City” by Green Day
11. “Landmines” by Sum 41
12. “New Gods” by Strung Out
13. “Josie” by Blink-182
14. “Taking the Long Way” by All Waffle Trick
15. “Enshin Karate II” by The Frickashinas
16. “Originators” by Bad Cop/Bad Cop
17. “Violet” by Hole
18. “bad idea right?” by Olivia Rodrigo
19. “Ode” by MakeWar

Song: “California”
Artist: Delta Spirit
Director: Abteen Bagheri
Appeared in: MVT Vol. 15
Chosen by: Jeff

***

It was my first night in Hawaii, and I couldn’t stop thinking about “California.”

Our rented apartment sat perched on the top floor, and our giant balcony looked right at the ocean. Directly below us were some well-trafficked retail shops that butted up to the bustling S. Kihei Rd that ran along the waterfront. Across the street was Kalama Park where they taught surf lessons during the day. There was a playground, a soccer field, some grills and showers, and just beyond that the beautiful ocean that, on most nights, would provide the soundtrack of lapping waves and surf folding over itself again and again in perpetuity.

Not on this night. On this night all I could hear was a live hardcore band blasting their distorted guitars and shouted vocals from the nearby skatepark where skaters kickflipped over a box jump and did awkward rail grinds while a few intrepid souls tested their mettle in the halfpipe. I had an instinct to walk down there and check it out with my own eyes, but I knew absolutely nothing about the Maui punk scene, and I’m not wandering into new turf late at night by myself on the first night of an 8-night Christmas vacation with my wife and kids. Knowing what I know about punks in general, I’m sure it would have been fine, but even with all the punk credibility I can realistically conjure, I’m still a 42 year-old dad who almost certainly smells like a fucking narc.

So I sat on that balcony having escaped the dreadful Colorado winter into the sweet warmth of Hawaiian bliss, sipped my whiskey, took a few hits of weed, and basked in the wonderful old man feeling of knowing some things just never change.

The video for Delta Spirit’s “California” sees a group of teenage friends in an El Camino pick up a girl from her high school on what feels like a Friday afternoon and follows them into the night as they drink, do drugs, skateboard, see a hardcore show at some shitty local youth center (or abandoned park or whatever), get into a fight, and just be irresponsible, adventuresome teenagers. I’ve rarely seen a video that so accurately captures the vibe of a lost teenage night better than this.

And look, if you’re reading this, maybe your nights weren’t enrobed in this much overt debauchery, but who hasn’t wandered around a pet store with your friends because no one can think of another way of killing 35 minutes? Who hasn’t made out with someone on a tailgate when you’re pressed right up next to one of your friends? Who hasn’t gotten roped into watching your friends miss skate tricks over and over again in some shitty park? Being a teenager on a night like this, although you don’t consciously realize it at the time, feels somehow simultaneously like you’re the invincible king of the world (you are), and like you’re an absolute fraud and have no idea what in the hell you’re actually doing (you don’t).

Now that I’m an adult I recognize in my bones something that Chuck Klosterman wrote in Raised in Captivity. “The only way to enjoy the present is to pretend it’s the past. Emotions must live in the future.” It’s another way of saying you almost have to be nostalgic for the good things happening to you right now. Good times, happy memories, and the experiences that shape you into who you become all live within us for as long as we let them. And if we can project ourselves into the future thinking back on the great things we’re experiencing right now, we create a stronger anchor for a happy refuge we can visit anytime we like.

“California” by Delta Spirit supercharges this feeling because it captures so evocatively the rhythms of both teenage vice and teenage ennui without casting judgment upon them. The song itself feels like instant nostalgia written in the second person with its aspirational message to an unnamed recipient and its wistful “oooh-oooh-oooh-oooh-oooh” mantra that undergirds the entire song.

That’s why my heart swelled when I sat on that balcony in Kihei and heard the familiar sounds of a loud ass hardcore band just tearing it up for the frustrated local youth. How do I know they’re frustrated? They’re kids at a hardcore show. Everyone at a hardcore show is dealing with something. It’s easy to wonder how anyone could feel frustrated in a place as beautiful as Maui, but that’s adult perspective talking. No matter where you grow up, the familiarity of any place breeds resentment, and that resentment needs a release. This is probably why punk will never die.

It bears mention that Vol. 15 was the first MVT list I did not curate myself. Jason did the honors, and this video was placed 18^th, right near the middle. For the first time I got to experience MVT without knowing any of the videos except for my own, a feeling that only deepened my love for this goofy shit we do on the reg. When it came on Jason said, “Jeff sent this to me and I can’t stop fucking watching it. So good.”

Jeff is really, really good at that. Without fail there’s always one video among his selections that demands your attention, and demands your attention for a long time thereafter.

My body was in Hawaii, and my heart was beating to the rhythm of “California.” Geography says Hawaii and California are different places. But for that night, that trip, and that vibe, Kihei and “California” were one and the same.

Rob Rover Rushing is on the road more than 300 days a year, so it was with some effort and luck that I caught him while he was home in Denver and that we were able to meet at East Fax Tap and chat for an hour. He’s the Co-Founder of Punk Rock Saves Lives.

We talk about the organization’s origins, their upcoming festival, the challenges of running an event-based nonprofit organization and a ton more. What is punk? What isn’t punk? What are the ethics of the mosh pit and how do they apply to life? Who’s playing the Punk Rock Saves Lives Festival? (Rob actually answers this question over the course of the last 10 minutes of this episode) He’s a thoughtful, caring, hardworking dude and someone I feel blessed to be in a similar orbit with.

Check out the Punk Rock Saves Lives website, the Ratio Beerworks website, and then join me for the Punk Rock Saves Lives Festival July 5-7.

Available on iTunes, streaming on Spotify, on podcatchers everywhere, and at the Jon of All Trades homepage.

Jason zumBrunnen is Co-Founder and Head Brewer Emeritus of Ratio Beerworks, a Denver craft brewery with roots in the punk rock scene and a DIY spirit. I’ve visited Ratio more times than I can count whether I’m taking people from out of town there, seeing a concert, or just plain old enjoying a pint because I happen to be in the neighborhood. I also used to host my nonprofit Mile High 100 events there. I love so much about Ratio, it’s a thrill to get to highlight them here.

I ask Jason about his punk rock roots, how to apply that to his brewery without being overbearing about it, how to differentiate yourself now that (perhaps) craft beer’s moment has peaked, where the brewery goes from here, and that terrible era of craft where every beer name was a bad pun or some vaguely offensive nonsense. I hit it off immediately with Jason, and this chat is easygoing while covering a lot of interesting ground about entrepreneurship, managing smart growth, and having to prove yourself over and over again (and why that isn’t a bad thing).

Be sure to check out all things Ratio Beerworks at their website. And join me for the Punk Rock Saves Lives Festival July 5-7.

Available on iTunes, streaming on Spotify, on podcatchers everywhere, and at the Jon of All Trades homepage.

James Hilovsky is the Creator of The Fran Dream, a franchise consulting company that matches up existing and aspiring entrepreneurs with successful franchise business opportunities. Notably, he works with a lot of retired professional athletes to match them up with opportunities as their playing career winds down. We discuss how he got into this line of work, shares with me an absolute ton about the world of franchise business, and what makes him successful.

You can find out more about James at his website. You can email him at James [at] TheFranDream [dot] com. You can even call or text him at 951-491-5983.

Available on iTunes, streaming on Spotify, on podcatchers everywhere, and at the Jon of All Trades homepage.

But the truth is I have no idea. Or at least it feels that way. And I’m convinced all the people I like and/or respect must feel this way, too. Because anyone who confidently tells you they have the unlocked the answers to life’s biggest questions (broken down by their specific verticals – business, relationships, wealth generation, whatever) is either a fundamentally clueless idiot or a shameless grifter.

This is why my general posture toward life coaches, leadership coaches and the entire self-help industrial complex sits comfortably somewhere between suspicion and outright contempt. I’ve known too many “leadership coaches” who are just dull corporate washouts that ran out of institutions to milk for money and instead started peddling their own rictus-grinning brand of sophistry to people even dumber than they are. Stupid people always have more answers than questions, and it never hurts to be reminded of that, especially when around every corner there’s a “solution” to any problem you can conjure.

I go into any project, any partnership, any collaboration brimming with questions. My professional role, especially as a consultant, is as a shepherd on the road to deeper understanding. I don’t know my clients’ businesses as well as they do, so all I can do is poke, prod and probe and hope that by asking the right questions, clients come to deeper understanding about themselves. Because I think that’s all any of us is truly doing if we’re generally pure of intent and being intellectually honest about ourselves. I also think this is the primary reason why I often feel like I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.

***

When I started at the PR firm in 2007, I was brought in to work specifically on one of their largest accounts, an account I had fairly deep familiarity with because my previous job intersected with them quite a bit, too. Within a month of getting hired, that client scaled WAY back and I figured I was going to get let go. #PRagencylife, amirite?

I wasn’t. I got re-assigned to clients I knew comparatively much less about, and just had to learn as I went along. The complicating factor was that my account lead on much of my work was our 70 year-old chairman who at the time was in the process of losing his foot to diabetes and spent multiple hours a day doing hyperbaric chamber treatments in (what was ultimately) a futile attempt to save it. I was 26 years old and cosplaying as an account manager. Deep end, kid. Figure it out.

When I started my corporate job, on my literal first day of work, my boss – the man who hired me – came into my orientation meeting and told me he had to hop a flight to DC and that he’d be gone all week. What should I do? “Get familiar with the company, meet some of our key folks, and I’ll be back when I can.” I think I spent a grand total of four hours with him in my first month of employment there. When I finally got a chance to catch up with him in the down week between Christmas and New Year’s, I asked him how I was doing and he told me he couldn’t have been happier. Why and how I’ll never be know, but whatever, just keep doing what I’m doing, I guess.

When I started Jon of All Trades, I began by cold pitching friends and acquaintances who did interesting things for a living and interviewed them. I had started a website before and I’d been a radio DJ before, so those rhythms were at least sort of familiar, but this was me, and me alone, on every single aspect of keeping the engine of this show humming along. I kept going. I seized opportunity where I could, transitioned out of corporate, built my business brick-by-brick, and here we are today.

It’s not to say I didn’t have ANY support in any of those three cases, as I absolutely did and have worked with some dynamite people along the way. I am intensely grateful for all of them. But on a fundamental level, I have a career that could be largely characterized as me making this shit up as I go along. Every stop has yielded new challenges, and I tend to find myself in places of untilled fields, untapped opportunity, and unsupported structure. People look to me and say, “Ok, so what do we do now?” And frequently I’m like, “I don’t know. But let’s figure it out together.” And then we do. Or we don’t! But goddammit, at least we’re trying.

***

I went to the Kentucky Derby with a large group of friends a few weeks ago and a conversation from that trip has stuck with me. It was me, my wife, and our friends Adam and Michelle. All four of us, either presently, or at some point in our lives, have owned our own businesses. Adam was my accountant, and to this day is my favorite accountant I’ve ever had. He was GREAT at it, but found the work unfulfilling, so he trained his ass off and became a firefighter in middle age. I’m sure he’s great at that, too.

Michelle is a Realtor in Colorado Springs, and was recently featured in a long, very well-written piece in The Colorado Sun. They gave her the hammer to conclude the piece where she said this: “I think there’s plenty of business for anybody who wants to do business. If you look at the numbers and get into the weeds a little bit, you’ll find that a quarter of them don’t do any (sales) and then another quarter maybe do one or two transactions a year,” she said. “It’s like the old 80/20 rule where 20% do 80% of the work. I don’t really worry about it. I figure if I put my nose to the grindstone and work and meet people and be part of the community, honestly, there really is enough work.”

What you don’t hear is her trumpeting her own greatness (even if I personally happen to think she’s pretty great). You don’t hear her telling people she’s cracked the secret code to success. Read that quote again. “I figure if I put my nose to the grindstone and work and meet people and be part of the community, honestly, there really is enough work.” Not I know, but I figure.

I don’t want to assume too much about her mindset because overly inferring from this quote alone is deeply unfair and she’s not here to weigh in, but to me that’s someone who understands that you can never know where or how success is exactly going to come. Basically, all we can do is work hard and be nice to people.

The conclusion we came to after some minutes of conversation is that it truly doesn’t take much to be good, and that so few people do the absolute bare minimum to even aspire to be good. The world is a classroom filled with people who showed up to class and didn’t do the reading, and then complain about how hard the fucking class is. All you had to do was the reading. It’s not that hard to be good.

***

Once again, I have no idea what I’m doing.

What’s simultaneously reassuring and deeply troubling is that I’m pretty sure most people don’t either. We’re all just doing our best with terminally incomplete information. I don’t take anything in my career for granted. The lessons I’ve learned have been hard-won. The insights I’ve gained have come at a cost. Frankly, it’s sometimes exhausting.

When I say I have no idea what I’m doing, I mean that my advice for maintaining a successful business is shockingly underwhelming relative to most people’s expectations. Even I can’t believe I get to do this for a living, so I still stare at my own life with slack jawed amazement. The only real advice I can give is to do good, honest work that you’ve put effort into for whoever has decided to pay you. Produce work you’re not embarrassed of. Keep your eyes open for people with similar values as your own, and work with them as much as possible. Success, notoriety, and financial rewards are byproducts of these efforts. Your personal integrity is worth more than whatever you sacrifice for it.

This advice feels facile, but when I’m in the thick of trudging through my neuroses, it’s about all I have. I feel myself slipping into cliché, and I hate that. And there are days I really hate that I don’t have deeper insight into how I get this shit to work or what it means or who I am or blah blah blah blah existential angst, for the win.

Today was one of those days. I’m consumed by the overwhelming, crushing weight of the feeling of having no idea what I’m doing.

So I did what I sometimes do when I’m feeling this way. I grabbed a Coors. Here’s what my bottle cap said:

Touche, universe. Maybe it’ll all be okay and this will pass. Maybe just get back to work and calm down.

I mean… what else is there?

Jean Eddy is the President and CEO of American Student Assistance (ASA) and the author of the book Crisis-Proofing Today’s Learners: Reimagining Career Education to Prepare Kids for Tomorrow’s World. During Jean’s tenure, ASA has pivoted from a 65-year history of helping students with college financing and repayment options to a new focus of helping students discover potential career paths earlier in their education journey, before financing or repayment need occur. In collaboration with the Board and her senior management team, she has successfully shifted ASA’s focus and direction to help kids – as early as middle school to – know themselves, know their options, and make informed choices about their education and career goals.

She discusses how how we help kids know themselves better and earlier, which will help set them on the path to career fulfillment. We talk about this from a number of angles. We discuss helicopter parents, how schools are funded, the need for systemic change to adapt to an evolving sensibility from both learners and businesses looking to the future for their impending workforce needs. We even spend a brief moment talking about the NBA playoffs. Jean is an incredible professional whose body of work speaks for itself, and it’s my privilege to feature her on the show. If you’d like to hear Jean on another show I produce and host, you can hear our conversation that’s largely focused on the skilled trades on Tradeswork: The Rocky Mountain Mechanical Contractors Association Podcast.

For more information about ASA and Jean Eddy, including where to find her book, please visit ASA.org.

Available on iTunes, streaming on Spotify, on podcatchers everywhere, and at the Jon of All Trades homepage.