Late last month an advertising executive (a real life Mad Man) named Linds Redding died of esophageal cancer.  After being diagnosed in 2011, he would regularly write about the disease, his treatments and his thoughts on life at his blog.

Earlier this year he wrote a post called A Short Lesson in Perspective in which he reflected on how wholeheartedly he had thrown himself into his career over the years.  As he rapidly approached the premature end of his life, he wondered aloud if it was worth it.

His insights and conclusions were so raw and honest that I wanted to excerpt a small portion of his post below so that you and I could reflect on our own priorities as we live life and plan for retirement.  One day (hopefully not soon) we will be where Linds was when he wrote that essay.  How great would it be if we could heed his words of warning so we could look back on our life with pride, satisfaction and few regrets?

A quick note: Linds refers to something called “The Overnight Test.”  When creating advertising campaigns, he and his team would often let ideas simmer overnight.  If it still seemed like a good idea the next day, they would say that it passed “The Overnight Test.”

From A Short Lesson in Perspective:

“Countless late nights and weekends, holidays, birthdays, school recitals and anniversary dinners were willingly sacrificed at the altar of some intangible but infinitely worthy higher cause.  It would all be worth it in the long run…

This was the con.  Convincing myself that there was nowhere I’d rather be was just a coping mechanism.  I can see that now.  It wasn’t really important.  Or of any consequence at all really.  How could it be?  We were just shifting product.  Our product, and the clients.  Just meeting the quota.  Feeding the beast as I called it on my more cynical days.

So was it worth it?

Well of course not.  It turns out it was just advertising.  There was no higher calling.  No ultimate prize.  Just a lot of faded, yellowing newsprint, and old video cassettes in an obsolete format I can’t even play any more even if I were interested.  Oh yes, and a lot of framed certificates and little gold statuettes.  A shit-load of empty Prozac boxes, wine bottles, a lot of grey hair and a tumor of indeterminate dimensions.

It sounds like I’m feeling sorry for myself again.  I’m not.  It was fun for quite a lot of the time.  I was pretty good at it.  I met a lot of funny, talented and clever people, got to become an overnight expert in everything from shower-heads to sheep-dip, got to scratch my creative itch on a daily basis, and earned enough money to raise the family which I love, and even see them occasionally.

But what I didn’t do, with the benefit of perspective, is anything of any lasting importance.  At least creatively speaking.  Economically I probably helped shift some merchandise.  Enhanced a few companies bottom lines.  Helped make one or two wealthy men a bit wealthier than they already were.

As a life, it all seemed like such a good idea at the time.

But I’m not really sure it passes The Overnight Test.”