Not long ago I was playing golf with a friend who is an attorney. Between shots, he began telling me how much he detested his job.

Why? I asked. You have to understand my business, he said with a huff. My day basically consists of writing nasty letters on behalf of my clients then we get nasty letters back

this goes on for a few weeks until my clients realize how many billable hours they've run up then they start getting

nasty with me the whole business he said with a shake of his head. He's kind of nasty.

Why don't you do something else, I asked.

From the look on his face, you would have thought I suggested he stop breathing.

Do something else, he said.

You don't understand.

I live in a big house.

I have two big cars.

My wife and I take big trips. She runs up big bills.

What else am I going to do? I don't know, I said, but it all sounds like a big mistake to me.

The sad part is my buddy is a bright, talented guy. He's giving up a lot. With his experience and law degree,

there are plenty of other things he could do. But he doesn't believe that's realistic.

Why? Because, like most of us, he can't tolerate the thought of a temporary loss of status and income. Unfortunately, that's usually the

price of admission. As the psychologist Lawrence G. Bolt once wrote, the life you spend doing

what you love is a different life indeed from putting your life out for higher to the highest

bitter. The only way you can say it makes no difference is to say life makes no difference.

These words hit me between the eyes when I first read them eight years ago. At the time,

I had spent 16 years working on Wall Street. My job paid well,

but I had grown increasingly bored with what I was doing. I loved analyzing the market,

but I'd grown tired of having the same repetitive conversations with my clients about their

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