Unshackling the golden handcuffs

So, after nearly a decade in a Wall Street sales job, I'm finally hanging up my heels and HP calculator and pursuing my passion: wine.  The founder of my most recent company had claimed back in '08 he would create an investment bank to "rival Goldman Sachs."  Well, he must have decided he had as much fun as he could stand in investment banking, 'cause he canned us all and went back to focusing on the hedge fund he started out of his Harvard dorm room 20 years ago.  However, rather than mourning the fact that I will no longer be selling toxic assets to savvy institutions, I realized the firm did me two huge favors:

1) it gave me the kick in the pants I needed to start my career in wine
2) it laid me off just in time for the 2011 California harvest.  Woohoo!

But before I was able to unshackle myself completely from the golden handcuffs, I had a few moments of wavering.  Wall Street is like the mafia.  Just when you think you're out, they suck you back in.  The day after I got laid off, I got a job offer from a competitor for the essentially the same sales position. What to do?  Continue making a decent living schlepping bonds from a cushy Manhattan Beach office,  or potentially live in a van down by the river eating hot dogs and drinking Zima while trying to work my way into a wine career?  I didn't cave, though.  I figured: I'm 35, single, with no kids, and if I don't give Plan B a try now, it ain't gonna be any easier at 45.

Perhaps there are no randoms in life, as two days after I got whacked, I was hiking in Santa Barbara and struck up a conversation with a couple hiking the same trail.  They just happened to be the owners of a winery in Napa, and I just happened to be headed to Napa the following week for a girlfriend's birthday.  While I was there, I was able to squeeze in an interview with their winemaker.  A few weeks later, and I am the neophyte addition to their harvest team!  I was so excited when I got the offer, the first thing I did after thanking the good Lord was to purchase a pair of waders (note, if you go to Home Depot, do not look for rubber boots, look for a white box about 7 feet above your head which contains mismatched and dusty rubber boots with dead spiders inside).  I have a feeling A) the new waders will be necessary as I hose down the winery, and B) my old galoshes with the English rose motif would've made me the butt of endless jokes.

So, here goes...I'm off to Napa in a week!  Woohoo!

Celebrating my wonderful friend's birthday with other wonderful friends

My sweet rose galoshes, which definitely will not be coming with me to Napa