Your Job is a Video Game: The Torch and Boomerang Phase
In the Golden Age of video arcades, there was nothing more intimidating, or enticing, to a kid than a new video game with some wacky control interface — the game Defender had about 100 buttons, Atari’s tank commander game Battlezone had two handles that (I guess) were supposed to simulate controlling a tank’s two tracks independently. Several games used a combination of trackballs and buttons to help you manage frenetic action — the most notable being Centipede. Your first three or four precious quarters might be used up just getting a handle on which button or control did which thing. (I’m looking at you Asteroids Deluxe!)
Getting out of that introductory phase — being able to navigate, shoot, fly an ostrich, or deliver newspapers virtually (Paperboy was such a mess of crazy controls I don’t think I ever touched it) — is always a good feeling, and one of the reasons why video games are such great entertainment.
Having grown up with video games and that constant stepwise progress from clueless to competent, this is a paradigm that has always stuck with me. I’ve had various jobs over the years, and no matter how much experience you’ve got, you always start out just learning the controls: where’s the bathroom? How do I get coffee? What do I wear? How do I ask for time off?
Every job comes with its own norms - departments within an organization often have their own way of doing things. And that’s not even taking into consideration the degree to which a workplace has a culture of either overt or subtle hostility toward new workers.
Much more fun is the period a little bit later on when you’ve got your feet under you and you can ask moderately intelligent questions. This is like the stage in the original NES Legend of Zelda where you have a boomerang, or that point in Minecraft when you’ve got a ton of torches. It’s the point at which you have just enough agency to be dangerous.
I have a real soft spot for this period, professionally. It’s a bit like adolescence — things are exciting and the stakes seem much higher than they actually are. When you mess up and lose a heart or two, it’s crushing. But it also has value to you: it teaches you what to do next time. I would argue that making mistakes is critical in this part of your career. If you are determined not to mistakes, you are doing yourself a disservice — you’re not figuring out the puzzle that is your office / your job / your career.
On the flip side, I think it’s not a good strategy to do a lot of boundary testing when you’re very new. I’ve seen that turn sour for both employer and employee, when the new person keeps diving into lava pits over and over, by asking for perks that they haven’t earned, or asking for trust that hasn’t been built up.
The idea of the Torch and Boomerang level at a job is that you’ve paid some dues: maybe worked an extra shift or put in a little overtime, or just done really good work. You’re on the other side of the question: “Does this person belong in this job?” On the other hand, you’re far from mastery — you may not always catch every acronym, there are still terms that may be unique to an individual region or workplace that you may not know. In Mortal Kombat terms: you know how to punch, kick, and block, but you don’t know any of the crazy finishing moves.
A really good video game is (usually) one that hits the sweet spot of challenge and reward — you get a sense of mastery over one set of skills just as something slightly more difficult comes along. This is where real life just can’t compete: it’s not engineered by a team, it’s just a bunch of stuff that happens. You might plateau early, get the hang of what you’re doing, and then not get a new challenge for 18 months. Or you might find that you never quite know what you’re doing and the ground constantly shifts under your feet. Sometimes a job is boring, sometimes it’s maddeningly frustrating. Sometimes a crazy curve ball comes along and there’s a recession or the factory closes down — the game malfunctions on you.
Naturally, as with anything else — a relationship, a pair of shoes, finding an Indian restaurant that you love — there’s a question of ‘fit’. Are you and the job a good fit? It’s not the case that everyone is truly driven to reach the Magic Sword and Diamond Armor level in their job. Some jobs aren’t worth it and some people are hard to motivate. I have bailed on a couple of pretty good jobs when I was still getting my feet under me, either because I was bored or because I was overwhelmed. Similarly, I still feel bad about not finishing Tomb Raider 3. It’s hard to let go sometimes, but it’s no one’s fault when these things don’t work out.
When the fit is good, though, the result can be that magical elixir known as intrinsic motivation. When you can plug your 40-hour work week into a desire for mastery, similar to what drives you to grind out quests in World of Warcraft for five hours a day, you’re unstoppable.
To approach your job like a video game means to engage with it, try to figure out, tackle it, but don’t let it consume you. Failures are going to come, problems are going to come — it’s only a game, they’re only puzzles. And, as of this writing, in America, jobs really are like video game consoles in an arcade: if you don’t like the one you’re at, move to another one. It’s a labor seller’s market!
