A Lowes Vest Helped Me Drop 20 Pounds and Reclaim My Spin Radius

I spent nearly 40 years getting my exercise by pushing away from a desk or a conference room table. Occasionally, I'd take the stairs during a fire drill if I was feeling particularly wild. I wasn’t sedentary. I moved plenty, mostly from office to office, terminal to gate, or buffet to keynote. It was corporate cardio.

Then came the quiet. Eleven months of unemployment. Not sabbatical-quiet or beach-chair-with-a-book quiet, but the kind of quiet where your phone doesn’t ring, email goes stale, and your well-curated LinkedIn starts suggesting courses in personal branding.

The fall of 2024 was an election year. Corporate hiring froze like a deer in headlights. Early 2025 brought news that the previous quarter’s job numbers were worse than first reported, revised downward, again! And just as hope arrived with a new administration, tariff chatter spooked the job market. All the while, the bills kept arriving right on schedule, bless their consistency.

So I did something radical. I got a job. A real one, just not the kind with a progressive title and a business card.

The Resume Rewrite (Or, How I Applied to Lowes Without Scaring Them)

By spring, I’d had enough of aimless days. I missed structure. I missed people. And I love the outdoors. That much had always been true. So I dusted off my resume and carefully removed anything that might suggest I once led business units or delivered global initiatives. You don’t apply for a seasonal gig at Lowes with a CV that includes “turnaround strategist”.

They asked why I wanted to throw bags of mulch around. I told them, without irony, “This is my Lowes. I shop here. I know where everything is.” That seemed to clinch it.

I put on a blue vest, the kind reserved for seasonal, part-time Merchandise Service folks, and reported for duty.

From Corner Office to Garden Center

Now, I work in the Outside Lawn and Garden section. I water plants, stock fresh arrivals, help customers, and spend hours walking the concrete. I use every bit of what I’ve learned from managing teams in business suits, building homes, and keeping a hobby farm humming.

And I walk. A lot. Some days, up to 30,000 steps in a 7-hour shift. When I first started, just getting out of the car when I got home was a heroic effort. I’d stagger inside, down a tall glass of ice water, and take a nap so intense my wife would check on me (love her!).

That lasted a week.

Now I come home, grab a drink, and get to work on the farm. My 6 a.m. to 2 p.m. Lowes shift is followed by a 4 p.m. to 8 p.m. farm shift. I’ve swapped conference calls for compost (sometimes these are the same thing), and the return on effort has been incredible.

The Numbers Don’t Lie (And Neither Do the Experts)

In the four months before my Lowes walkabout, I averaged about 8,000 steps per day. Since starting? Over 15,500 steps per day, and I only work three days a week.

Some days I hit 30,000 steps in a 7-hour shift. I’m not walking at a steady pace either. It’s bursts of speed to stock or water plants, followed by slower stints helping customers find the right kind of potting mix. No two intervals are alike, which, it turns out, might be the point.

Turns out, what I’m doing — unintentionally — mirrors the benefits of High-Intensity Interval Training, or HIIT, which health experts have been promoting for years. A recent Fox News article revisited a decades-old Japanese walking protocol: three minutes of brisk walking, followed by three minutes of slower pace, repeated for 30 minutes. Studies tied that pattern to stronger muscles, lower blood pressure, and even extended life expectancy by as much as seven years when practiced regularly.

My routine isn’t laboratory-approved or stopwatch-timed, but the concept is surprisingly aligned. Experts say it’s the alternating effort that drives the health benefit. According to Harvard and other research groups, HIIT can improve cardiovascular function, insulin sensitivity, even brain health. And it doesn’t have to happen in a gym. Chores, yard work, walking hills, or pushing carts in 90-degree heat? That counts.

I’ve lost more than 20 pounds, the kind that comes from too many chairs and too few chores. I can now turn my head to check behind me without needing to rotate my entire torso like a forklift doing a five-point turn. I can even almost, straight-legged, touch my toes, once a distant memory, now a slightly creaky reality.

Even better, I feel useful. I’m learning. I’m giving. I’m still a guy who can solve problems, build things, and offer help, whether someone is wearing a tie or holding a trowel.

What’s the Point?

We live in a world that glorifies title, rank, and the illusion of career progression as a straight line. But here’s the truth:

It’s never too late to start moving.
It’s absolutely okay to do something beneath you because it might just lift you up.
And yes, you can get paid to get healthy.

Working at Lowes didn’t replace what I used to do. It rebalanced it.
I still have more to give. Whether it’s helping someone pick a flower the deer won’t eat or helping a team solve a thorny problem they can’t see their way through. It turns out the same instincts apply. Listen carefully, ask questions, be useful, and don’t be afraid to get your hands dirty.

This gig wasn’t the plan. It has just become part of the routine.
And along the way, I dropped 20 pounds, found my spin radius, and learned there are many ways to share my experience and “give back”.

Highly recommend mulch therapy.

Further Reading

Fox News: this Japanese walking trend could extend your life by 7 years

Harvard Health: Cognitive benefits of HIIT may last for years

Time: The 10-minute workout that actually works

Business Insider: Real stories of people using movement to reset their health

These aren’t AI ramblings — promise. Learn more about Hancock Consulting