The time I went against the grain.
Expectations.
Judgements.
Explanations.
I was 22. I had a degree. I had a job with a fancy title in the industry I was interested in. Granted, the job wasn’t at all related to what I knew how to do, but I figured the proximity to what I loved would make me happy. It didn’t.
I had a 401K and insurance. I had flexible hours, and I could wear jeans to work. The people I worked with were nice. I didn’t fit in. Something just didn’t feel right. I tried to force it because there were all these thoughts floating through my head. How do I explain what I want to another person when I didn’t quite understand it myself.
I was living in my parents’ attic. I knew there would be questions. I knew there would be judgements. I could feel my heart pulsing in my throat when I sat in the meeting with my boss to tell her that I was leaving my big girl job to work in a tanning bed.
Yes. I went from being an Account Executive with a newspaper to wiping sweat from tanning beds by choice.
I wasn’t hired as a manager. I didn’t take the job with the expectation I’d some day become the manager. Let me make that clear. I took the job knowing that I would be no better than an 18 year old working part time in college. Except I was full time. There was no insurance. I had to trust myself that I wasn’t making a huge mistake.
I can’t explain it. I wish I could. I just trusted my gut. When I saw the listing it was just something that felt right. It felt like something I would enjoy. It felt like something I would be good at.
So I applied. I got offered the hourly position, and I quit my “big girl” job.
Within 30 days, I was the manager. And I loved my job. I loved the people I got to see daily. I loved being encouraged to be my peppy, happy self. I fit. I was satisfied. And I was tired, no exhausted, at the end of the day. And it felt so good.
Occasionally someone from my high school would come in to tan. And I would be lying if I told you I wasn’t embarrassed. They’d be wearing their fancy suits obviously on their way home from their fancy jobs, and there I was signing them into a tanning bed for 11 minutes. The worry of judgement was real for me. But at the same time–I didn’t care. I was happy.
I didn’t fit in the mold. I saw all of my friends doing the things they were supposed to be doing, and I didn’t quite understand why I was just perfectly happy to work in a tanning bed. The conversations would come up (you know the ones–when you haven’t seen someone in a long time and they ask you what you’re doing these days), and I felt this rush of fear in trying to justify why I wanted to do what I was doing. I wasn’t doing it as a part-time/in between job. It was what I wanted.
The point of this story is–I did what I wanted despite the fear of judgement and expectation. And I was happy. I paid my bills. And I even ended up with insurance when I became a manager. I know I got lucky–and I’m not saying run off and quit your job. But in the end–isn’t being happier what matters?
It was while I was at that job that I wrote my first book. I wasn’t creatively drained at the end of the day–and I wasn’t exhausted from hating my life. I was electrically charged and full of inspiration. And I was happy. And I made the time.
Isn’t that what matters? We all get so caught up in what other people will think that we forget to make ourselves happy.
disclaimer: don’t try to stalk me 😉 I no longer work for either of these companies, and I no longer live in that town.