The Anniversary I'm Glad I'm Not Celebrating

Fifteen years ago, I lost the job I'd had since I was 18.

This year would have marked 30 years since I first walked into Waldenbooks (which later became Borders). (Yes... I really am that old!)

Instead, this year marks 15 years since Borders disappeared.

It's a strange anniversary to think about. If Borders had survived, would I still be working there today? Probably not. But then again... maybe I would have. Comfort has a way of convincing us that there's always time to chase the next dream.

When I started at Waldenbooks, I was in college and just looking for a part-time job. Ironically, I actually wanted to work at the CD store across the hall (remember CDs?), but they never hired me.

It turned out to be one of the best "rejections" I ever received.

What I found instead was a place filled with incredible people, endless books, and opportunities I never expected. Over the years I learned about leadership, customer service, problem-solving, and the importance of creating a place where people genuinely wanted to spend time. Those lessons have stayed with me far longer than the company itself.

Borders gave me confidence in my abilities, but it also gave me something else: comfort.

I was good at what I did. I enjoyed it. I had friends there. I could easily have stayed on that path because it was familiar. Looking back, I don't think I was taking enough chances. I wasn't asking myself, "What else could I do?" because I didn't have to.

Then the choice was made for me.

Working for a company that everyone knew was heading toward bankruptcy was heartbreaking. Every few months there were more rumors, more uncertainty, more stores closing, and more friends losing their jobs. When the end finally came, it was devastating. Thousands of people lost careers they loved, and communities lost something special.

At the time, it felt like everything was falling apart.

Looking back now, I can see it was the moment everything started coming together.

Because Borders closed, I had to reinvent myself. I went back to school, studied at Harvard, travelled the world, eventually moved to the Netherlands, and became a chiropractor. None of those things were part of the plan.

Today, instead of recommending books, I help people move better, hurt less, and reconnect with their health. I still spend my days helping people—it just looks very different than it did 30 years ago.

One of my favorite quotes is:

"A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for."

For a long time, Borders was my safe harbor. Losing it forced me to sail into waters I never would have chosen myself. It was uncomfortable, uncertain, and sometimes terrifying—but it also led me to a life I couldn't have imagined.

So while I'm not celebrating a 30-year anniversary with Borders, I am incredibly grateful for what it gave me. Friendships. Experiences. Confidence. A love of learning. And, ultimately, the push I needed to discover a completely different future.

Sometimes the opportunities we're most thankful for begin with the disappointments we never wanted.

Here's to Borders.

Thank you for the memories.