The Kind of Fun You Don’t Notice at First

I remember someone once telling me that work should be fun.

At first, I agreed almost automatically. It sounds right, doesn’t it? If you spend most of your life working, then it should at least feel good. Otherwise, what are you doing?

But when I think about it more carefully, I realize that “fun” is not what people usually think it is.

For me, fun is not laughing all day. It’s not feeling relaxed like on a Sunday afternoon. And it’s definitely not everything being easy. I don’t even know a job where everything is perfect. In my work, I have stressful days—days where your head is full, where you move from one meeting to the next, where your phone rings and you already know the next problem is waiting.

And still, those are often the days I enjoy the most.

I think the key is something I would call positive stress.

There are days when everything comes together. I leave a meeting, I get into the car, my phone rings, a customer needs help, I already think about the next appointment, and suddenly the whole day is moving. You don’t have time to overthink. You just act. You solve. You react. You move forward.

Those days don’t feel heavy. They feel alive.

It’s strange, because from the outside, it looks like pressure. But from the inside, it feels like energy.

And then there are the other days. One meeting in the morning, and after that… nothing clear. You start searching for tasks. You open your laptop, close it again. Time moves slower. Those are the days that feel longer, even if they are objectively easier.

So when I say I agree that work should be fun, I don’t mean it should feel like free time. But for me, in a way, it actually does.

That wasn’t always like this.

Five years ago, my days looked completely different. I stood next to machines. My job was simple to understand: the machine had to run. That was the most important thing. When it stopped, you had to react immediately. Change the workpiece, adjust, continue. Everything was about speed and precision.

There was a clear line between work and free time. When I left, I left.

Today, that line is not so clear anymore. But in a good way. It doesn’t feel like I am escaping from work. It feels more like I am in something that fits me better.

And I started to notice that the moments I enjoy most are not the big ones. They are small, almost invisible if you don’t pay attention.

Last week, for example, I had a meeting that stayed with me.

We are working with a partner, and the idea is to visit customers together. In my case, that means going to BMW. For me, this is important—not just for the business, but for the relationship. Because I believe if I am there, if I speak to the people directly, I understand more. I feel more. I can build something.

But the contact person I spoke to didn’t see it like that.

He said, “No, I will go alone. And when I have a project, then you can join.”

In that moment, I could have accepted it. It would have been easier. But I didn’t. I pushed. Not aggressively, but clearly. I told him, “Let’s try it once. We go together. I show you how I work. And if you say after that it’s not good, then it’s fine. But give me one chance.”

We went back and forth. A small fight, but a respectful one.

And then, at the end, he said, “Okay. Send me five meeting suggestions. We go together.”

It was just one sentence. Nothing spectacular. But I remember that I smiled.

Because in that moment, something shifted. Not just the plan, but the connection. It was no longer just coordination—it was the beginning of working together.

These are the moments that feel like fun to me.

Not because they are easy, but because they mean something.

The same is true in conversations with customers. People often think sales is about products. For me, it’s not. Maybe 20%. The rest is relationships.

A good conversation is not when I present and the other person listens. That’s not real. A real conversation is when both sides are involved. When the other person brings ideas. When he says, “Yes, that’s interesting—but what if we also try this?”

When you start building something together.

And you feel it immediately. There is a kind of chemistry. You understand each other without explaining everything. You are not pushing—you are moving in the same direction.

Sometimes, in those moments, I forget that I am “selling.”

It just feels like solving something together.

Of course, not every conversation is like that. There are customers who only look at numbers. Data, prices, comparisons. You have to convince them with logic. It works, but it’s not enjoyable in the same way.

I enjoy the direct people more. The ones who react. Who challenge you. Who bring energy into the room. Because then I can bring my energy too.

And then there is the part of the job that many people underestimate: the driving.

I spend hours in the car. And honestly, I enjoy it. Almost every time.

I listen to music. Sometimes podcasts. Sometimes I just look outside—good weather, sun, landscape. It’s quiet in a different way. You are moving, but you have space to think.

And if I’m honest, it’s also a funny thought: you are getting paid to drive. You move from one place to another, you make calls, you reconnect with old colleagues, you prepare your next meeting. It doesn’t feel wasted.

Still, at the end of the day, what gives me the strongest feeling is not the movement—it’s the progress.

When I work on a project, when I invest time, when I think through details, and then I reach a point where it’s finished… that’s different.

I had a project once, around 75,000 euros. It took me maybe 50 to 70 hours. Meetings, testing products, designing solutions, adjusting again and again. It was intense.

When it worked, it felt great. Not just because of the number, but because of everything behind it.

But what I learned is this: even when you do everything right, the story doesn’t always continue the way you expect.

After that project, I thought the relationship would grow. That we would work closer together. But it didn’t happen like that. There were problems, complaints, price discussions. At some point, it almost disappeared.

That’s the part of the job that is not fun.

And I won’t pretend it is.

When you lose something, or when you see that your effort doesn’t lead to a long-term result, it doesn’t feel good. You can learn from it, yes. And it’s important to understand what went wrong. But enjoyment is not the word I would use.

Still, even there, something remains.

Experience.

Clarity.

And maybe a stronger instinct for the next time.

So when I think about what makes a good day now, it’s not a perfect day.

It’s a day where something moves forward.

Today, for example, I’m working on expanding a product range for a customer. Planning, thinking, structuring. It’s not exciting in a loud way. But if I finish it, if I know it’s well prepared, I feel satisfied.

And if the customer comes back and says, “Alex, this is a good suggestion. Let’s do it,” then it becomes one more step. Not the biggest win. But a real one.

Maybe that’s the difference.

Fun is not one big moment.

It’s many small ones—hidden inside conversations, inside movement, inside progress.

And if you don’t look for them, you miss them.

But once you start noticing them, work doesn’t feel like something you have to escape from.

It becomes something you are part of.