Do What You’re Meant to Do
Exactly two years ago I packed up my Southern California home, put the dog in the backseat of the car, and headed to Denver with my husband to become a software developer. Changing careers is hard. It seemed especially hard leaving a dream job in my rear view mirror.
I knew I’d end up making less money, at least at first. I’d go from the top of the management chain to the bottom — losing status, opportunity and responsibility. I expected those things, and they came true.
But the most significant loss I expected to feel was a loss in meaning. I worked for one of the leading humanitarian agencies in the world. I managed a $20+ million budget with hundreds of amazing people working under me. Together we ensured that the 15,000 refugees we resettled each year were safe, secure and economically self-sufficient. It’s hard to find a job on this planet that carries more significant, inherent meaning.
But I left because I realized the following:
- While I was good at my job, I rarely had opportunities to utilize my unique strengths and talents at work.
- If any one of my direct reports assumed my position, the refugees we resettled would be just as well-served.
In essence, I had a dream job; it just wasn’t for me.
Two years later, the thing I’m most confident about is this: “follow your passion” is very poor career advice. Instead, simply, do what you’re meant to do.
Some people find alignment between their change-the-world passions and doing what they are meant to do. Others, in doing what they are meant to do, achieve world-changing results regardless of their passions.
Most of us will have to make a choice between passion and skill-fit, at least early in our careers. And, if you must make a choice, I’d suggest you choose the latter.
My career was forged in fields I was passionate about: poverty alleviation, labor rights, humanitarian relief, and affordable housing. Yet, as a developer, earning less money and with less stature, I have more work satisfaction than at any other point in my career.
I also found that a blurry boundary between paid work and personal passion was hard to manage. Like many of my former colleagues, I regularly worked 50–60 hour weeks. And, being paid for your passion has a funny way of stealing some of its joy.
Today, I mentor four refugee children every Saturday. I adore these kids and I learn so much from this experience. Unlike my paid humanitarian positions, this “work” would not happen without me. Meanwhile, someone else is very capably performing each of my previous paid jobs — and with any luck, they, too, are doing what they were meant to do.
