A few weeks ago, I joined the Great Resignation. I will remain in my current role through the end of the month, but will then be thrown into uncharted waters: quitting a job without anything lined up. It's not for lack of trying, but my standards are higher than most - perhaps impossibly so.
During the coronavirus pandemic, I realized I work best from home. You wouldn't know it from face-to-face interactions, but I'm an introvert with social anxiety. While extroverts found the work-from-home lifestyle to be unbearable, I thrived. No longer did I have to endure inane water cooler chitchat and contrived office get-togethers. Working from home also meant fewer germs were being passed around, so I enjoyed the added benefit of never falling ill.
But, American society is designed by and for people who like being in the presence of others and exerting control over those who don't. Extroverts, unfortunately, have been awarded the voice and power to dictate how every facet of life operates, from the workplace to school to politics, and even everyday social interactions.
Given the slow pace of progress at my workplace, I knew that I would be required to one day return to the office. As such, I began contemplating my next move from the moment my team was sent home at the onset of COVID-19. Topping my considerations, of course, was 100% remote work. That much was a given. Beyond that, I really forced myself to think about what kind of career would give me a sense of fulfillment.
Being able to identify with a company or organization is critical to my overall well-being. I feel the soul-crushing weight of American capitalistic society much more strongly than most. I can't simply find happiness clocking in 40 hours a week doing meaningless, trivial tasks that will ultimately line the pockets of others. There needs to be a purpose behind what I'm doing. Otherwise, I view work as an unnecessary evil, the byproduct of a greedy, consumption-driven economy, where the sole purpose of the working-class population is to make the rich richer.
Why would I willingly want to waste a significant portion of my life, time I could spend with my husband, friends and family (my parents excluded, for obvious reasons), or even pursuing new hobbies, dealing with corporate culture, office politics, inflated egos and toxic positivity? This line of thinking led me to a very dark place, mentally, for several years; since I first joined the workforce, really. The level of stress, depression, anger and bitterness I felt, day in and out, was not sustainable.
After graduating from college and suffering through five years of retail, there was a point where I wanted to just coast through my career, flying under the radar as an administrative assistant. An overtly homophobic, fundamentalist Christian boss in a far-right leaning small company cured me of that "ambition" in a hurry.
Following that three and-a-half year self-esteem busting stint, I spent more time than I care to admit chasing after an impossible dream. I have a complex about my intelligence and feel I'm not as smart as my peers, so I developed an unhealthy obsession with gaining the "acceptance" of my alma mater. I spent years applying for positions there (along with other higher education institutions), more than a hundred of them, facing rejection after rejection.
In the interim, I spent a couple years working for an organization run by an incompetent and abusive CEO, who made frequent practice of targeting and belittling staff members whenever the mood struck. Meanwhile, her elderly aunt, a clone of my mother (if she had dementia on top of her assumed schizophrenia) ran from cubicle to cubicle extolling the virtues of a certain reality star turned presidential candidate (while doing the same about Ben Carson exclusively to my African American colleague).
When I finally managed to land a position with my alma mater, I thought I had reached a point where I could be happy in my career. Except it wasn't my alma mater, specifically. It was an outside organization that partnered with them to offer a very specific program. While I had hoped that this position would be an "in" to other departments on campus, since they typically prefer to hire from within, the prevailing attitude that staff partnered with the outside entity were "lesser than" severely hurt my chances (although other colleagues somehow managed to break through that barrier).
Which leads me to my current role working as a writer (in title, anyway) for another higher education institution for the past four years. Unfortunately, a myriad of contributing factors, not the least of which was a mandated return to the office through a complex and convoluted hybrid work schedule, led to a steady decline in my mental health. After two years of applications, rejections and watching everybody around me land their dream jobs (while mine slipped through my fingers without so much as a call for an interview), I reached my breaking point and realized my sanity is more important than a stable paycheck.¹
So, what comes next? How can I find pride and a sense of fulfillment in my career? I want to write and being remote is non-negotiable. Beyond that, the rest should come as no surprise given this blog. My ideal employer would be an LGBTQ+ organization or publication. No line of work would make me happier or be more rewarding than sharing my life experiences, and sometimes advice, to inspire and instill hope in people who are struggling with self-acceptance.
Notes:
¹ I will stop short of saying financial security because this is America, and such things are not meant for working-class plebeians such as myself.
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