You left a stray bolt in a wall panel while prepping the last space shuttle mission—it punctured a hole in the wall on re-entry and…bad things happened. You're career: It blew up, too.
You never grow from a job managing the left front door bolt and hinge grips. Same crappy job; same crappy apartment; at age 52 you start counting down the days to retirement. 3... 2... 1...
You slowly move up the corporate ladder; you eventually get your own office and have a secretary. You watch air, electrical, and power systems being made and just think all of this is generally cool. You have a lot of time for your family. On Bring-My-Dad-to-School Day, you’re practically a superhero.
You're a big fat buyer of product. You are a colonel now in the military and write big checks. Lots of the guys in Congress know you and kiss your butt. They know you can "make them" if you green light a big contract in their district.
You are the CEO of Shmoeing. You rule the skies. Move over, birds.