Why I Chose to Become an Engineer

Right after I grduated from college, my father set me up with a job interview with the local office of what I think is the world's largest consulting engineering firm. He knew a guy who worked in the company's office in St. Louis, but occasionally did work out of the office in New Orleans, and also occasionally offered his professional opion to my father's endeavors, for a tidy fee, they only knew each other professionally. So I went in for the interview and met with the office manager and then later my father's contact, and it was my first real job interview and I wasn't prepared or loose, and I didn't get the job. Months later I was talking to my dad and he mentioned that he had talked to his buddy, and he had ecounted a funny story from our interview. He asked me if I remembered what I had said when asked why I chose to become an engineer. I replied that I had a couple of canned answers to that question, but I didn't recall which I'd given. Apparently my response had been: "Because I didn't want to be a doctor."

You see, I grew up the son of a doctor and an engineer, who made relentless fun of accountants and lawyers. I considered there to really only be two career paths to upper-middle-classdom. I remember one time my dad telling me something along the lines of: Your mom and I could have made a lot of money with our professions, but instead we chose to live well and have more time to spend with you kids. But don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with being rich. I'm pretty sure he waited to tell me that until after I admitted that I'd never be a rockstar. I never showed any talent for non-waaaayyy-abstract visual arts and I was never more than a B+ guitar student even before I lost part of my finger, and I didn't thought acting was for homosexuals, even though I showed a flair for the dramatic earlier than most. Maybe he wasn't talking about being famous, but rather suggesting I pursue a career on Wall Street (or some other financial endeavor riskier than moving to LA and waiting tables (or worse), trying to get noticed) but to my 12 year old mind he said "rich", and I just added the "and famous."

When I was about twelve I cut my finger carving my Halloween pumpkin (this is not the story of how I lost my finger tip, this was just a good deep gash) and I bled so much that I passed out. My mom said it was because of lost blood pressure, but I wasn’t convinced it wasn’t a weakness concerning the sight of what the inside of my finger looked like. When I did have my finger tip “traumatically amputated” in a door, I saw for a second time the inside of (coincidentally the same) one of my fingers. I passed out a couple times before that one was all said and done, and I ruined one of my favorite t-shirts.

Being an engineer was the rational choice, which coincidentally is what engineering is all about, getting as much information as possible and making the optimal decision within all of the constraints; maximizing the positives, without sacrificing any of the design constraints. Engineering is about pushing the limit of what is possible without delving into the realm of unknown or unsafe. Art professions ask you to not only break boundaries but to stay outside and no compromise your vision based on the criticism of others; not just think outside the box, but live outside the box. As a lawyer or financier, I may have a shot at becoming rich, but, possibly, at some moral or ethical cost. As an engineer, ethics are a big part of the equation. (Sure Westinghouse made a fortune on his air-brake, and Otis invented the brake that stops a falling elevator and both got rich in the process, but they did it saving lives. Every time you drive over a bridge, whether it be the Golden Gate, Brooklyn, a high rise, overpass, or just a short creek crossing, you’re entrusting your life to the engineer that designed the bridge and his/her ethics and “due diligence.”) As a doctor you are also entrusted with strangers’ lives, but you have to be able to deal with blood.