Director of Engineering. 40% raise. More travel. Less time with his kids. Marcus had two weeks to decide. Here's how talking it through with Lound helped him find clarity.
Marcus is 38, a senior engineer at a growing tech company. His boss just offered him Director of Engineering, a role he'd been working toward for years. The salary jump would let them finally pay off the house. His wife is supportive either way.
But the role means 50% more travel. His daughter Emma is 7, his son Jake is 4. He already misses too many bedtimes. The offer expires in two weeks.
"Got the offer today. Director. I should be excited, right? This is what I've been working toward. But I keep thinking about Emma's face when I missed her recital last month. She said it was fine but... I don't know. Maybe I'm overthinking this. Sarah says I should take it. The money would change things for us."
That's a big offer. I hear the excitement underneath the hesitation. You mentioned Emma's recital, and the word "fine" in quotes. What did her face actually look like?
"Couldn't sleep last night. Made a pros and cons list at 3am like some kind of cliché. The pros are obvious: money, career growth, respect. The cons feel... softer? Harder to quantify. 'Missing moments.' What does that even mean on a spreadsheet?"
It's Friday. You've been sitting with this decision all week. Before the weekend pulls you into family mode, what's the one thing you haven't let yourself say out loud yet?
"The thing I haven't said? I'm scared I'll take it and become my dad. He was never there. I swore I'd be different. And here I am, seriously considering a job that takes me away more. What kind of hypocrite does that make me?"
This is the moment everything shifted.
What have I been saying about being a dad?
Over the past 3 months, you've mentioned your dad 4 times, always in the context of "not wanting to be like him." But here's what I notice: when you talk about moments with Emma and Jake, your whole energy changes.
Last month you recorded a 12-minute entry just about teaching Jake to ride a bike. You called it "the best Saturday in years."
Teaching Jake to ride
Oct 14 · "The best Saturday in years..."
Emma's questions about space
Oct 8 · "She asked why stars die..."
I forgot about the bike thing. That was a good day.
You didn't forget. You just don't have a spreadsheet column for "days that made everything worth it." The question isn't whether you can afford to turn down the money. It's whether you can afford to miss more bike days.
I've noticed something. When you talk about work achievements, you use words like "should" and "supposed to." When you talk about time with Emma and Jake, you use words like "best" and "finally" and "real." Your language knows what your spreadsheet doesn't.
"I'm going to turn it down. Not because I don't want success, but because I finally understand what success means to me. It's not a title. It's being there. The bike days. The bedtime stories. The recitals. I can't get those back. I talked to Sarah tonight. She cried. Not because of the money, she said she'd been hoping I'd figure this out myself."
What made the difference wasn't the decision itself. It was how Marcus got there.
The bike day entry from a month ago. Marcus had forgotten. Lound hadn't.
The "should" vs "best" language pattern. Something no spreadsheet would catch.
Friday's notification asked the question Marcus needed to hear, when he needed to hear it.
Marcus stayed in his senior engineer role. Three months later, a different opportunity came up: a principal engineer position with no travel increase. He took it. The raise wasn't as big, but he's home for dinner every night. Emma's next recital is in two weeks. He's already blocked his calendar.
Maybe it's not a promotion. Maybe it's a move, a relationship, a life change. The details are different, but the feeling is the same: a big decision and not enough clarity to make it.