I don’t want to climb to the top of the career ladder. I want to be free of the shackles of my nine to five.
Two weeks ago, I officially reached my mid-thirties. (That shit starts at 34, right?)
Well, unlike every other 34 year-old woman out there (or so I’m told…), I don’t want to climb the career ladder. You see, I’ve been working in human resources and recruitment now, for over 10 years. (I say “over” 10 years in my official bio so people don’t know exactly how old I am, but I guess I’ve given that away now, huh.)
I love my job. I love the work I do, and I love the people I work with. I especially adore the parts of my job that require me to get out my jazz hands and spirit fingers, because even though I am a mega-introvert, I love a good show. But that’s another story…
The thing is, I’ve been told since I was a kid that I’m “clever”, “talented”, “gifted”, whatever… I tell you this not because I am trying to gloat, but because I want you to know, I’ve heard it all. Or at least, I thought I had. Until my boss (a 30-something year-old, wildly-career-driven man), told me I’m “wasting” myself. Yep. That’s what he said.
“Bec, you’re wasting yourself”.
It went on. About how I am wasting my talents and how I should be striving for more, driving for more, chasing down the corner office, and taking over the world (or the small government department I work for, at the very least). And the reason he thinks I am “wasting” myself?
I don’t want a promotion.
I’m creative; so creative that sometimes I use the word as a noun. I’m a creative. I thoroughly and exquisitely enjoy writing, all the way to my core. I embrace color. I get off on wearing wacky clothes and I don’t hide the fact I need glasses to see. I pick the biggest specs I can find and wear them with pride. I think cacti are cool, even though I can’t keep them alive. The first thing I do when I buy a book, is smell it. I use way too many commas, and I’m totally okay with it. I also strive for more and drive for more. But the things I am striving for and driving for, just look different to the things you are striving for and driving for, Boss.
I don’t want a promotion.
I don’t want the Head Honcho’s job. I don’t want to sift through data and analyze it till the cows come home. The only office that has my name on it, is the one in my home, overlooking my backyard, dog poo and all. I don’t want to take calls and make calls. I don’t want to attend performance reviews. And I really don’t want to write policy and other boring office garbage, then have my words torn to shreds because they aren’t the words you would use. (I know how to use my words, Boy.)
The problem is, when I vocalize all of this (yeah, I tell him…), he asks me the same question every time.
“Well, what do you want to do then?”
And every time I give him the same response.
“I want to live in a world filled with unicorns, sunshine, lollipops, rainbows, sparkles, Skittles and cotton candy”.
(I do believe in unicorns, but I don’t think he realizes I’m screwing with him.)
What do I want? I want to be free of the shackles of my nine to five. I want to sit at home in front of my laptop and write for days without showering. I want to pore over pretty flatlay images, build beautiful, eye-catching websites, publish online magazines, create podcasts, post photos of my fur-babies on social media and collaborate with other creatives (that noun again…) that are feeling my vibe.
2018 is my year. Let’s do this! I’ve got to make this happen, friends. The Almighty knows I can’t handle another conversation about “wasted” talents and promotions.
P.S. If you are one of those creative types I mentioned, please enquire within. I’m building my unicorn squad as we speak.
Images via shutterstock.com and giphy.com.
Comment: Would you trade your big title and office for work at home pj’s and creativity?