My first job post-grad (a.k.a. post-bong, post-jungle-juice, post-falling-asleep-with-makeup-on) was and still is a global restaurant brand. I’ve been able to explore the innards of this international brand: project management systems, food safety practices, and most importantly, the culture. Like most companies, we emphasize people over profit. This lofty philosophy has actually trickled down to the language, where any incoming new hires are asked: “What is your Purpose?” with a capital P. The question is meant to probe your capacity for compassion, how your role can contribute to the greater good of society. Do you view this as a job, or as a calling?
At the time of my interview, I was confused. My bad-bitch indoctrination would refuse to submit to anything outside of my family, my finances, and well, my fun. Later I would learn that this practice of probing for vulnerabilities was company-standard, and just the beginning of a growing phenomenon that marries work with identity.
I hate and love that I feel most myself when writing artist profiles, organizing project timelines in Excel, or editing interviews down for clarity. I hate and love that I seduce myself into my work — curating the right music, dimming the lights, slipping into something soft.
I feel rendered useless when I can’t contribute — both at work and in my relationships. I’ve even cried to my SO about being that annoying, useless girlfriend on film sets and proceeded to ask for more work. But it’s not just me. Having been entrenched in this rabidly ambitious yuppie lifestyle, I’ve started asking my friends when was the last time they cried. And almost always, it’s about work.
While it’s noble to derive your worth from work, it only looks good when you’re thriving. What happens when you plummet, when you miss a deadline, when your supervisor reprimands you? Where do you find your worth then?
In Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata, the protagonist offers a drink to a guest at her home.
“Do you want a can of coffee? There’s also lemonade. I only bought dented cans, though, and they’re not cold.”
“Dented cans?”
“Oh, hasn’t anybody explained that to you before? When cans have a dent in them, they’re damaged goods and can’t be sold to the public.”
I read this part during a tumultuous period in my life; I was facing what felt like an insurmountable mountain of work-related problems. The insecurity and imposter syndrome would spill into other sectors of my life, amplifying minor problems until they grew into splintering headaches. I felt like a dented can — at best, a blemish in an otherwise perfect world, and at worst, a vessel for food poisoning ready to ambush.
Do I have a solution for this growing pressure to find our identity in our work? No, I’m definitely part of the problem. I can only share what mantras have disentangled my knots of uncertainty.
“Man cannot remake himself without suffering, for he is both the marble and sculptor.” - Alexis Carrel, Surgeon
“Sunshine all year makes a desert.”
And my favorite:
“Grab your gear and leave your fear!” - Yamcha, when rescuing Goku from the Red Ribbon Army (Dragon Ball, Episode 68)
Hello! The SO mentioned in the article here.
I think there’s a historical component perhaps to the entanglement of work and identity as well. The intimacy between both makes sense considering how disconnected they were for so long.
1950s suburban commuters, who were physically and emotionally separate from their occupations, probably felt very different to the now Soulcycling dog walking crowd that live in mixed-use apartments within walking distance to work.
I think of discontent always being rooted in the context of the past - both near and far. Were our parents happy with their work? Were their generation happy with their work?
I remember distinctly all the cartoon Dad’s and office job workers being depicted as destitute, desperate, and rather numb individuals.
Cue spongebob clip.
https://youtu.be/aP2jErXpNS4
So even though maybe the “unlimited vacations” and modern work culture could be an over-correction, I think it’s rather a noble pursuit to make work - a place where you spend most of your life - a place you feel happy about!
I love your writing! Thank you for sharing.
With the pandemic enwrapping our lives and invading every crevice, the line between work and life has grown as blurred as ever. The midweek concerts are gone. The impromptu dinners are gone. The things that cured the work drone are gone. I can't help but think that everyone is quietly suffering from the repercussions of semi-permanently working from home.
But pandemic aside, the need to identify with work is so explicitly tied to our upbringing and youth-- from all the harmless "what do you want to do when you grow up" questions to the pivotal decision of choosing a college major-- the fine choice between interest and "financial stability." I spent so many late nights as an 18 year old seeking solace from strangers on the internet to help me with this dilemma. Here's a snippet I kept on my tumblr:
Do you really care if you are happy at work?
“The hours blow, the work is crap, and the people are kind of weird. But, we get paid a lot of money to sit in a nice office and churn out paperwork. It’s not a horrible travesty. And let’s be honest, work is work. You’re never going to like it, but you grit your teeth and do it regardless.”
Around this time, I was studying Business Economics and would force myself to sit right in front of my professors to stay awake in my disinteresting classes (I ended up falling asleep regardless). I tried so hard to dispel the gnawing feeling that the major wasn’t for me. Of course I wanted to study this. Stable, safe, and most importantly, proud parents. What’s not to like?
Fast forward 5 years, and I diverted so far away from my old path. To answer 18 year old me’s question, I do care about being happy at work… but that’s such a misguided aspiration. There are so many micro and macro layers of happiness to consider: personal interest, work impact, team environment, etc.
As much I hate the judgement I receive from telling people about my job label, I also love it. Solely mining my worth from my work (including its peripherals of pay, industry, etc.) is bad, but I do find importance in choosing something that I enjoy with people I enjoy.
To end, here's another snippet from 18 year old me:
“Surround yourself with people you like and make cool stuff with them. In the end, at least in my experience, what you do isn't going to be nearly as interesting or important as who you do it with.” - John Green (Yes, I was a teenage John Green fan)