13 Lessons from the Road Less Traveled: A Journey from Prison to Tech Executive
Introduction
If someone told me years ago that a road crew worker in prison would end up as a tech executive, I'd have called them delusional. Yet here I am—a living testament to life's unpredictability and the power of perseverance. Far from a straightforward ascent, my career has been a labyrinthine journey of highs, lows, and sharp turns. The path has been complex, but the lessons derived are crystal clear: life's richness lies in its lack of linearity.
Phase 1: Freedom Behind Bars—The Road Crew Experience
In the confines of a prison, you're constantly reminded of what you don't have: freedom, choice, dignity. That lack extends beyond the obvious physical limitations; it's a psychological shackle, affecting how you perceive yourself and your worth. When I got the chance to work on the road crew, I was far from naive about what the job entailed. No one signs up to scrape mangled animal remains off the asphalt thinking they've hit the employment jackpot.
The work was gruesome; a vivid tableau of life's fragility and unfairness, captured in each contorted carcass. The grotesque scenes were further intensified by the unpredictability—each animal presenting its own set of challenges. Some were scattered remains, demanding a delicate touch to gather every last piece. Others were like ticking time bombs, bloated and ready to burst at the slightest prod. On the face of it, the experience was abhorrent, a daily chore that could easily erode any remaining sliver of self-esteem.
But I wasn't there for the wage (a mere $0.70 a day), and I certainly wasn't there for the work. I was there for the freedom it offered—or more accurately, the semblance of freedom. As I performed these gruesome tasks, I was also absorbing life outside the prison walls. I watched cars pass by, observed families on their weekend outings, and saw roadside vendors selling their wares. Mundane activities for most, but for me, they were tantalizing glimpses into a world I was cut off from. It was a daily reconnection with humanity, a reinforcement that I was still a part of the world, even if it was from its periphery.