Two corporate careers, and purpose was found in the last place ambition usually points: problems no one is paying to solve. The author's discovery is worth sitting with because it is not a complaint about technology. It is an observation about where talent flows. The market rewards solving problems for the most comfortable people in the richest society in the world, and rewards it handsomely. The unglamorous needs of everyone else — public services, overlooked communities, slow unprofitable work — wait on the other side of that reward system with far fewer hands reaching for them.
Notice that the contrast is not between good people and a bad industry. It is between where skill is paid and where skill is needed, and most of us feel that pull in smaller ways than a career change: the client who can pay versus the neighbor who cannot, the polished project versus the messy one. The psalm behind this reflection gives thanks for a love described as faithful and enduring — and it spends its length cataloguing exactly who receives that love: the lost, the hungry, the imprisoned, the storm-tossed. The gratitude is not for comfort received but for a love that stays pointed at people in trouble. That is what makes the thanksgiving uncomfortable in the best way: if we give thanks for being loved when we were the ones overlooked, that same gratitude has always been the engine that turns our skill toward whoever is overlooked now.
One honest limit: this is one person's first-person account, not a verdict on an entire industry, and nothing here promises that serving the overlooked brings career success or that corporate work is lesser. Some people serve the vulnerable precisely by doing ordinary work well. But the question the author landed on — what about the rest? — does not require us to quit anything. It asks us to look honestly this week at where our skills and hours go, and to consider one place where they could serve someone the market never courts.