As a young twenty-something I was convinced that a traditional 9-to-5 job would kill me. Perhaps I was being a bit dramatic, but I do believe I’ve managed to tolerate my job for so long only because it’s been fun and flexible. Two weeks at the new version of my job, which is dull and provides no creative outlet, has only reinforced that belief. This new work is making me profoundly unhappy.
There was one thing I hadn’t anticipated, though: that I would come to not merely tolerate my job, but to depend on it, and not just for paychecks. A large part of my identity is tied up in it. If I am not the person who does that job, then who am I? I have always taken pride in my work, but if it’s no longer rewarding in that way, then what even is the point of it? Or of me? Without work that requires skill and creativity, what is my purpose? And without it to ground me, how will I avoid spinning out of control when other life changes threaten to throw me for a loop?
Several people have already suggested that I start looking for a new job, not because I’m unhappy and facing an existential crisis, but to avoid the possibility of being laid off. They have a point, but looking for a new job would be super stressful. Plus, maybe getting laid off wouldn’t be all bad. After 30+ years of work, I’m due a decent severance package, which would allow me to take some paid time off. That would actually be pretty nice.
All things considered, I’d rather stay put for now. Recent comments from my boss suggest that my job is safe for at least six months. So I guess I’m going to test the theory of my twenty-something self and see if the dull work kills me.
Just kidding, I hope. If the work becomes absolutely intolerable, I’ll quit. In fact, I can already feel myself starting down the path of quiet quitting. “F@#$ that!” and “Not my problem!” have become my new mantras. I’m simply too old to put up with a lot of shit.