What Do You Do For a Living? A Loaded Question that Needs to Die
Hello dear reader.
And big welcome to new subscribers to Life (un)Learned. I’m so happy you’re here. Grab a cup of tea (or coffee) and join us for a read, listen or better yet in the comments. I love hearing from you. So don’t be shy and jump right in.
Many of you connected with and commented on last week’s conversation with
on productivity culture and burnout. It appears many of you can relate to being betwixt and between. Not sure where you’re heading yet, but clear on where you’ve been and wanting to do life differently.Do.
BE.
These are two very different words, and yet we all run to sacrifice ourselves on the altar of doing. When I was growing up, no one ever spoke about or asked, “how do you want to be in the world?” I wouldn’t have understood the question if they had.
‘What do you do?’ We ask each other innocently enough. Who knew how turbo-charged those words would become in my own life. I wanted to have a GOOD answer to that question. Of this I was sure.
I set about getting an education and credentials, so I could satisfactorily answer this question and sound important. Doesn’t that equate to BE-ing important?
Recently,
wrote about her previous working life in her essay “I Felt Important.”1“I was, at age twenty-three, wearing Theory suits and eating fresh papaya strips at extravagant, five-star hotel breakfast buffets. I was boarding a 747 to China and settling into business class, my seat pod equipped with shelving and basil-scented facial toner spray. Oh, what a heady pleasure that is, to sit in international business class. In my life before The Firm, I had walked past the people at the fronts of planes, already seated, reading, drinking their drinks, stretching their legs into the expansive space in front of their seats. I had wondered, as I rolled my carry-on past them, accidentally bonking it on an armrest, who are they? How have they arrived there? And now there I was, one of them. The flight attendant came directly to me as soon as I was settled and took my personal drink order, free alcohol included. My seat became a fully reclining bed, and I was served fresh vanilla ice cream with caramel sauce.
But the physical comfort was not the best part. Best by far was the feeling I got when the rest of the people came on the plane, when I was already reading and sipping as they walked by, and I thought they thought I must be an important person doing important things.”
I physically cringed reading this. I recognized myself in her words.
With three young children, I was running around catching planes (not sitting in first class), but still feeling important and full of myself because I was flying around the country and in meetings with important people.
One day, I would be in a car with the Premier of the province of British Columbia, briefing him for an upcoming event, the next day, I would be in a meeting with high profile businessmen (and it was only men), strategizing how to win the Olympic bid and bring the Games to Vancouver. I felt like a bad-ass being part of it all. I felt important.
Heady stuff for a small-town girl from Kamloops who had to share a room with her mother as a child and ate peanut butter off a spoon in front of the TV for dinner waiting for her mom to come home from work.
“What do you do for a living?” The window sales guy asked me, as he moved through my home measuring windows that need replacing.
“I’m a writer,” I said. With a millisecond of panic.
I wasn’t expecting the question. I haven’t been asked the question for a very long time. I go out of my way to avoid being in any situation where I might be asked that question.
Here I was, tucked away safely at home, and the question found me.2
“Oh ya? That’s cool. What do you write?” He asked.
“I write non-fiction.”
“What do you write about?”
“It’s mostly interviews, advice and essays,” my voice trailing off.
“What kind of topics? What was the last thing you wrote about?”
My inside voice is simmering. Are you fucking kidding me right now, dude? But, I respond politely.
“Well, my latest essays have been about life transitions and work culture. They’re more personal in nature.”
“Do you have a podcast?”
For the love of GOD…. this guy isn’t going to let this go. He’s eyeing my laptop and microphone set up on my kitchen table. Maybe he thinks I’m famous? Or important?
“Not really, I do interviews with people and I write an online newsletter.”
“What is your newsletter called?”
“Life (un)Learned.”
He jots this down on his notepad. I hope the questioning is over.
Why do I care? Why is this innocent exchange jangling all my chains inside? Old habits. I could feel my insides unravel.
Did I have a good enough answer to “what do you do for a living?”
Yes. Yes, I did. But not without a brief twist in my gut as I pushed past my old ways of being. Wondering if this answer is good enough. If I was important enough.
What’s most important to me now is how I’m being in the world. Right now, it’s being still and quiet. Listening.
It’s allowing my body to rest and my nervous system to re-set. That is my job. That is what I am doing. And it’s important work.
As Emily said last week, “when nothing is happening, something is happening.”
My highest hope for you…
Allow yourself the time and space you need.
Accept where you are at this stage in your life.
Align your mind and body by following your intuition. It won’t lead you astray.
Have the most blessed day, weekend and week ahead. You got this. I know you do. I see you. I feel you.
Keep (un)Learning. KVB. Xo
What say you?
How are you BE-ing in the world these days?
How do you answer the “what do you do?” question when someone asks? Is it a trigger, or is it just me? 😬
What is your highest hope for yourself? For others?
To be honest, it’s only half true. It is what I’m doing these days, but I’m not “making a living.” Isn’t that what he was really asking, “how do you earn money?” I don’t. Not anymore. But, that’s another story.
Way back in the day, when someone would ask me what I did, I'd ask if they had heard of Heidi Fleiss. If they said yes, I'd lean in and say, "I took over for her." This was LA; everyone had heard of her. And either they believed me or they knew I didn't want to talk about it. Either way, the subject was changed. LOL. I've also told people I'm in witness protection when I didn't want my photo taken at events. That works when a no won't. xo
That question bothered me more in my former career as a pastor. Partly because I never knew if the reaction to my answer would be a lecture about why women aren’t supposed to be pastors. And partly because it was hard to convince people that things like doing the research necessary to write sermons, visiting members, and going to church events counted as work or took enough time to justify a salaried position with benefits.
It also bothered me when I was no longer a pastor but still trying to get (or stay in) other FT jobs. The ones I got paid low hourly wages and I was ashamed to admit how far I’d fallen.
But now I’m thrilled to answer that I’m a freelance writer and be asked what I write about. It’s a great opportunity to promote work I’m proud of!
It does bug me when the phrase “earn a living” is used, though. I don’t think anyone should have to earn the right to live (or to have food and shelter)!
Like you, I’m not making a living as a writer yet, but I’m making a LIFE that reflects my values instead of society’s. And that’s so much better than the one I had before, even though I have a lot less money.