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We learn as teens and twenty-somethings that it's cool to have
an important career title associated with our name.
Mostly, we view 'career' as a noun. Usually, without
much thought for the long-term, we set out to have a successful
reputation—doctor, lawyer, and stock broker. Getting there seems as simple as going
to school to get credentials.
With just a title, we think of ourselves
as professionals. One stop at the career convenience store, there
we are, a certified noun. As we venture out into the world, we
practice and try out the noun that we've attached to ourselves.
Moving and shaking, we're looking for that magical experience—the
perfect job. At some level we're hoping that our noun fits who
we really are. I'm a doctor, but am I a healer? I am a programmer,
but am I a problem solver? I am an engineer, but do I love to
build? We hope our choice of noun will pan out.
Recognizing that we easily spend 75 percent of our waking
hours involved in work, it's a major compromise to go through
the motions waiting for the five o'clock whistle to blow.
Our career noun by itself doesn't bring happiness
to the office cubicle.
For most people, the symptoms of having
a poor fitting noun quickly begin to erode their well being.
People experience boredom, resentment, anxiety
and feel like they are leading two separate lives. Work
becomes a total drag.
To alleviate the suffering it's easy to take
the path of least resistance, jumping from one frying pan into
another. Job hoping and collecting master's degrees become a
magic pill to give a sense of self-control and a feeling of moving
forward. Once labeled as a specific noun, it seems like you are
trapped in a sentence. Dilbert becomes a reality.
The quest for faux success is a phenomenon that largely
stems from our culture's consumerized philosophy of career.
We have 'ready-made' expectations.
We're expected to leap from high school into a profession—without
really choosing and building it. We aspire to 'having'
success, rather than actually 'being' into what we do in a meaningful way.
Just like a frozen pizza, we literally buy prepackaged career titles at the college degree retail store. We
skip the process of figuring out who we are, short-cutting the journey
it takes to create our own career path.
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