Getting paid and being happy are most likely tied to doing that something else instead, and figuring out how to get paid for it. Being really good at the craft is the tactic used by our detectives, as well as a lot of other people.
Here's another example from The Who singer Roger Daltrey's memoir. James Parker's New York Times review starts like this:
God bless the evil headmasters: the deformers, the belittlers, the squashers of dreams, the ones who leave their oppressed subjects in such a condition of churning anonymous rage that the only possible remedy, post-school, is greatness. “You’ll never make anything of your life, Daltrey,” promises Mr. Kibblewhite, nemesis-like, as he expels 15-year-old Roger Daltrey from Acton County Grammar in West London. Sixty years later, with the title of his new memoir, Daltrey offers a tip of the hat. Or a middle finger. Same thing, at this distance.
You might think, "well, it's fine to do what you love as long as you're a genius. But what about everybody else?" And yet Daltrey is everybody else. He's a bullied outcast who turns himself into a genius in large part by focusing obsessively on forming bands and getting really good.Daltrey has been singing for the Who since 1964. . . . this is the hero’s journey of “Thanks a Lot, Mr. Kibblewhite”: the long arc of life-learning whereby a working-class brawler, a delinquent tea boy in a sheet metal factory, discovers within himself the psychic-emotional circuitry to conduct some of the rarest electricity in rock ’n’ roll.