Jobs. Part 1

Growing up, my parents did not seem happy with their work. They would frequently be stressed, and talk of it as a demand imposed upon them. I have to work. They also seemed frequently stressed about money.

I was confused by this. We were a middle class family, lived comfortably, had a reasonably large house and so on. I was also judgemental. Why would you choose to be unhappy? Why would you not do something you enjoyed and earn a bit less money?

What’s more, they seemed aware of all of this somehow, and had plans and ambitions where they would be less stressed and more free. And yet, for the large part, they continued to be stressed.

I resolved, unconsciously, that this would not be me. As a teenager I did not care for money. I knew that I would do something meaningful with my life, something that I believed in, something I enjoyed, even if it meant being poor. (Taking the Giving What We Can pledge was an easy choice for this reason).

I also had a sense of judgement towards my university friends that decided to do things like management consulting. Why would you choose this?

I would not be part of the rat race, whatever that was.

My parents didn’t place any specific constraints on what I studied, or have any specific expectations for what I would do for work.

My mother’s refrain: ‘Whatever makes you happy’. My stepfather repeatedly reminds me to ‘take all the opportunities I can whilst I still can’, and that he regrets focusing so much on work instead of seeing the world. I’ve always found this a bit surprising given he is something of a hard-nosed conservative.

I had a conversation with my father once, where he was telling me about his days as a communist when he was a student in Turkey. He told me a story of being chased by the police, I think this was around the time of the 1971 military coup, and getting away. Many of his friends weren’t so lucky, and ended up with broken bones and broken teeth.

I asked him why he wasn’t a communist anymore. He said everyone is an idealist when they are young. I thought that was ridiculous, and resolved to be an idealist into old age.

For a large part of my adult life, work has been at the top of my mind. The main determinant of my shower thoughts, main source of stress, main vector for my ambitions.

I’d often be aware of the fact that all of my time and energy is devoted to work. And I’d be like, well, I just need to get on top of things, and I will have more balance in the future.

(As with all good posts, this one is inspired by a unidirectional conversation with my therapist. I laughed quite a lot when I realised my work life fit the trope of a person who takes great pains to ensure they do not become their parents, and end up doing so anyway).

I think my teenager self misunderstood what was going on. According to my teenage self, what happened is something like - people get used to a certain lifestyle, nice food, big house and so on, and don’t want to give it up. And they also want even nicer things. And so they continually work and work. My teenage self’s understanding of this was largely about material possessions and consumption.