Shift happens!

How my new work schedule changed my perspective.

Photo by ONUR KURT on Unsplash

Around this time each year, I’d usually be wrapping up a weeklong work trip to Las Vegas, a tradition that quickly became one of my favorite updates to share.

But as you may know, this year is different.

Instead of chasing stories across casinos, I’m back behind a desk, working structured shifts, logging hours and adjusting to the rhythms of a more traditional newsroom role.

It's a sharp pivot from my freewheeling days on the beat, when the job pulled me into new places, memorable moments and stories I never saw coming.

What this new pace has given me, though, is a deeper appreciation for time: how I use it, how I protect it and how easily it can slip away if I’m not intentional.

For most of my career, life felt like a fairytale.

No long commutes. No clock to punch. No scheduled breaks. The beat was my compass, and I followed it wherever it pointed.

Detroit one day. New York the next.

That kind of freedom is rare, and I knew it.

But stepping into this new role has sharpened my awareness of just how much I took that flexibility for granted — and how different it feels when your time no longer fully belongs to you.

The change has been both grounding and jarring.

There's comfort in routine, in knowing where I’ll be and when. And when I’m off, I’m truly off. I asked for this. Still, after two decades of crisscrossing the country, I can’t help but feel a bit like a caged bird.

The hours are long and inflexible: eight at a stretch, tethered to a laptop, with little room to roam mentally or otherwise.

Last night, Parker lit up telling me about a coding event she has this Friday, right in the middle of the afternoon. My shift that day runs from 1 to 9 p.m.

It’ll be the first event I’ve missed since our daddy-daughter dance in February 2024.

A text from Parker inviting me to her coding event this Friday, but duty calls.

Telling my girl I wouldn’t be there was, without question, the toughest moment of my first three weeks.

And oddly enough, being home more but present less requires its own kind of adjustment.

I’ve also found myself drained after shifts, physically too tired to hit the gym, mentally stretched too thin to pour into Money Talks. I missed two gym sessions in week two, caught between time crunches and running on empty.

My old gig wasn’t perfect either. It came with its own set of trade-offs: nights, weekends, holidays. Brutal travel. Strenuous schedules. Tight deadlines. Always on alert.

When it mattered, though, I was there. I could always be there.

The hardest truth to face is that even with the structure, stability and flexibility of working from home, I’m still adjusting to a different kind of grind. A pace that’s more measured, but no less demanding.

It’s a clear reminder that even positive change comes with trade-offs, like this Friday, when I’ll miss Parker’s coding event.

I’m working to reconcile this shift with the values I’m determined to instill in her: a life driven by purpose, autonomy and showing up for what matters most.

Because that, in the end, is the truest measure of wealth.