I grew up on a cattle farm in West Virginia, which teaches you a few things early. The work doesn't care how you feel about it. Animals have strong opinions and no interest in yours. And there's a very specific distance between "the plan" and "what actually happened," and that distance is almost always mud.
I ride a Harley, which surprises people who meet me first and see a guy who looks like he should be driving a Subaru to a soccer game. I have a deep and possibly unhealthy respect for Basset Hounds, who have figured out something the rest of us haven't: conserve your energy, take up your space on the couch, and never apologize for either. Iowa cornfields, it turns out, are weirdly good for the soul. Wasn't expecting that one.
My career hasn't gone in a straight line. For a long time I thought that was the problem. It wasn't — most of what I actually know came from stuff that didn't look like training at the time.
Most people are sitting on more than they realize. Skills they quit counting because they got used to having them. Things they lived through and filed under "not a big deal" that were, in fact, kind of a big deal. Everybody thinks their own version of hard-won is just common sense, and everybody's wrong about that in exactly the same way. Doesn't matter what industry you're in.
I think about unique ability a lot: the one thing underneath all your other things, the skill that follows you no matter what room you walk into.
This isn't a highlight reel, and it isn't advice from a guy who's got it figured out. It's just somebody who took the long way, paid attention along the way, and is hoping some of it is useful to you too.