Someone I worked with long ago made it big.

There’s this guy I worked a few years ago, who I still see on social media from time to time, and I’m honestly so jealous of him. In a good way, though. He’s now a director at a huge company, makes bank, and is still known for being as easy going, fun, and like able as he was all those years ago when we worked at a commerce startup together in our twenties.

He’s done all that and I’m just sitting here in my underwear on Saturday morning, creeping on old coworkers' socials. Drinking cheap instant coffee and feeling sorry for myself. Cramped up in my overpriced studio apartment. And I’ve put no effort into changing myself for the better, either. I mean, not a strong enough effort.

I’m also working the same role at the same company I worked at with Buddy. He was in sales. And I was in marketing. I still am. And I’m doing the same thing. Email marketing. I spam people. That’s my job.

The company we worked at together sells specialty written content by independent writers to companies who don’t have any in house content writers. Big and small merchants can review writers' portfolios on the website we run and hire them for independent jobs or keep them contract on for years if they’re happy with their work.

It became a great business. It still is, really. But it was in its infancy when Buddy started working there in sales. And he was responsible for the biggest deals made between our writers and huge companies.

He landed deals between high end luxury fashion labels, car companies, and department stores. He also took the time to foster deals between small mom and pop operators, and fresh university grads to write content for their newsletters. He always had time, charm, and patience. For everyone.

I didn’t share his skills, but I liked working with him. I was sometimes annoyed if customers or colleagues needed urgent tasks for me to complete, or emails to read about stuff that wasn’t related to my job. There were few colleagues I really spoke to or got to know outside work. I’m an antisocial person. I wasn’t really putting that much in. Enough for me, though.

Buddy left after two years to another company. He was poached by a bigger, higher paying industry leader where he’s now a senior director. It was a sad day when he left.

But he had bigger shoes to fill. More customers and clients to build professional friendships with in a bigger network where stakes were higher. He had other companies to gain profit for, and other industry colleagues to impress – without being arrogant.

Back when buddy worked with me, I do remember work was more fun. Buddy’s name is actually Chris. He liked being called Buddy at work, though. But if you need to find him on LinkedIn or google him - he’s Chris. I can’t say his last name.

Online google searches of him show an array of stories about his personal progress and professional rise from multiple business journals, websites, articles etc. He’s been showcased in magazines. I should be bitter about it, but I just wasn’t. I guess I’m jealous, but only because I wish I could be a part of his professional buddy network, too. So, kind of jealousy.

I’m not Buddy. I can’t do what he does. I didn’t put in the same time and personal dedication into anything. Especially to people I worked for or customers I served. The efforts put in were enough. But I’d expect more for myself. And would prefer to be treated like a friend, or buddy. Not an annoying customer.

I remember the first time I saw Buddy at that the office. Years ago on his first day. Walking by his desk, I eavesdropped on a sales call he was on.

Previously, I found salespeople insincere and manipulative. Other places I worked, sales reps would hoot and holler for making a sale – as if the client they convinced was some schmuck. Who they couldn’t care less about unless they bilked them for money for a service or they didn’t need.

Buddy had a better style in my opinion. And right from the start.

“Well, you know what I like? I like talking to people and I like talking to you.”

Buddy said that to his first sale within an hour of his first day and shift.

A bit too much of a familiar conversation style, I thought. But I liked it. It made me want to talk to him too. And Buddy was in that role to make friends. Not sales. You could tell. He loved it. He even told us.

He broke sales records - people bought products from him because they were buying a functional professional relationship with friend, a product we all needed. A professional relationship between friends. Buddy’s, even.

I’m not jealous of his success. I’m proud I knew him. But everyone else he works for or with, I am envious of. Because unlike me in my underwear, alone on Saturday morning, people were out there having a blast with Buddy. And I wasn’t invited.

I should send him the invite on LinkedIn and stop creeping from afar. Maybe I’ll get a chance to reconnect. At least that’s what the spam email LinkedIn sent me suggested.

I did it. Invited him to my network. Less glitzy than his. But guess what? He accepted within a few hours.

He even messaged me. Remembered me and asked if I wanted to have a chat and catch up. He said he always liked talking to me back then at work.

That’s what buddies do.