The Landscaper-to-Survivalist Pipeline
My evolving escape-hatch fantasy.
Do you have a completely unrealistic fantasy for what you would do with your life if you decided to chuck it all and walk away from your current career (and associated woes)?
I don’t mean a plausible backup plan, like … you’re tired of being math teacher, so you become an actuary, or you’re sick of your job in corporate communications so you put your years of experience to good use by starting a PR firm. Nor do I mean, you’re bored of being a dental hygenist, so you try to turn your hobby (making vintage upcycled furniture) into your main gig.
No, I mean something completely unrealistic, and compelling for reasons that are mysterious, perhaps even to you. The ultimate escape fantasy is not just improbable, but potentially unpleasant. There are (theoretically) appealing things about it, and an equal number of hardships that entice because they’d be a refreshing change of pace from your actual hardships. Like, becoming a farmer.
My dad once told me about a friend of his whose enduring fantasy was to be a herring fisherman in the North Atlantic and Baltic Sea. The sea air! The salt on your skin! The herring sandwiches! It doesn’t sound fun at all. It sounds difficult and smelly. In other words, the perfect escape fantasy.
I often ask people about their alternate-life fantasies. Here are a few that I’ve heard about over the years:
Cab driver (this was a pre-Uber-era fantasy)
Goat farmer
Owner of a noodle shop
Mountain guide
Welder (Flashdance-related, perhaps)
Stone mason
Cargo ship crew
Auto mechanic
Long haul trucker
I’d love to know yours! If you have one, please put it in the comments (unless it’s embarrassing, in which case, DM me).
Want to know mine? It’s landscaping.
I’m not an especially good gardener. I get excited about it early in spring, but then I can’t be bothered with all the upkeep, so half my plants end up dead or eaten by slugs, and I end up feeling guilty about not having tended to them well enough.
And yet, when I close my eyes and picture the escape plan, there it is. Landscaping.
In the fantasy, I don’t look like me. I’m tanned, sinewy, rakish in my dirt-covered overalls. My hair is short, my biceps well defined, and my eyebrows perfectly arched. I’m basically Gina Gershon in Bound, but with a trowel in my tool belt. I’m strong enough to lift bags of decorative river stones, or squat all the way down without making an “uuurhg” sound, to inspect a shrub.
I’m not a landscape architect or a garden designer. I don’t design the garden, I just come in to assemble it — efficiently, and perhaps sweatily (but in the fantasy, the sweat glistens sexily on my brow, or something like that).
Why is this — a job that sounds like it might be beyond my physical capabilities — the fantasy? I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this, and I think the answer is very simple. Because it is the exact opposite of anything I’ve ever done for money in my life.
It’s outdoors. It’s physically challenging. There is no desk, no computer, no need to constantly check emails. No writing long documents on short notice. No meetings on Zoom (or in person, for that matter). It’s a job I would never have to take home with me, or lay awake thinking about at 4:00 a.m. At the end of each garden project, I’d be able to take pride in a job well done, and then move on to something new. In other words, no tasks that go on endlessly with no real sense of completion, or the satisfaction that comes with seeing it through from start to finish.
One of the main things that appeals about landscaping is the extreme physical competence required. Over the past year and a half, I’ve been clawing my way back from an epic level of exhaustion and un-fitness, a real dark night of the soul that felt, at times, like something I’d never recover from. I’ve been catching glimpses of a full recovery lately, and wow, it’s world altering stuff. You can see why strength and stamina might appeal. Recently, I’ve been reimagining the escape-fantasy with this in mind.
It’s possible that I don’t need a new outdoorsy career, but rather, a new set of life skills that make me feel more generally competent.
As the world has progressively crumbled over the past five years, I’ve thought a lot about a British TV show from the ‘70s called Survivors.
The plot follows a group of people who survive an apocalyptic flu-like pandemic that is accidentally released by scientists and kills approximately 4,999 people out of every 5,000. The show doesn’t sensationalize the post-apocalyptic world. There aren’t marauding gangs of cannibals, or Mad Max-style fiefdoms ruled by maniacs. Instead, there are regular people (and very few of them). They’re lost, scared, and lacking many of the basic skills needed to manage their own survival, let alone get society up and running again. All of our big, fancy systems still exist: the power plants, the factories, the technology, the hospitals. But … it’s all worthless, because nobody has the basic knowledge to fix a radio or a shoe, let alone run a water filtration plant.
My great grandfather built his own home. He kept a small farm, with a small orchard and a few animals. He kept bees, was a stone mason and a blacksmith. I think he also taught himself how to read while he was in a POW camp during WWI, so he was kind of an over-achiever. If he had been one of the survivors in this scenario, he’d have done just fine. Three generations later, I have none of his skills. I’d be fucked.
My landscaping fantasy is morphing into the fantasy of having basic survival skills. First aid training. Rudimentary knowledge of electrical, carpentry, plumbing, electronics. I’m not a doomsday prepper, but I think there’s real value in having the basic skills to help your family and your community in a crisis. Plus, there’s something deeply empowering about being able to fix your own shit. When our car recently got a flat, Colin watched this video:
And then he went out and changed the tire all by himself. It was surprisingly simple, and amazing.
I’m currently working a short contract that ends in May. The threat of unemployment looms yet again, and I’m half-seriously considering a summer landscaping gig. Surely, that’s the busy season, so someone must be looking for an eager trainee? Colin recently ran into an artist friend who’s been doing it to make ends meet. He’s around my age, so if he’s not too old for this midlife career change, perhaps I’m not either.
Or, I might look for work I’m more directly qualified for, and channel my energy into acquiring a few handy skills. Like fixing a radio, or a shoe.
I loved that show Survivors and have the series on DVD. I first got into it via the newer one they did about 10 years ago. I've got that one on DVD too if you ever want to borrow it!
This post made me think of some things that I’m going to write a whole post about.
Also, I was a garden centre employee (and occasional conscripted landscaper) over a few summers when I was in university, and it’s STILL the job I look back on with the most fondness when I think, “what would I rather be doing?”