The path to career enlightenment is… unclear

After being let go from her job as a creative director, Kate Kemp meditates on a future as a yoga teacher. This is the seventh in a 13-part series.

6 min readSep 14, 2016

By Kate Kemp, Monster contributor

Being unemployed is weird. The instant I got laid off, I went from promoting a major brand portfolio in a demanding environment to promoting my personal portfolio in my pajamas. This switch messed with my brain so much that I started questioning whether I even wanted to stay in the ad industry.

Over the years, I’ve seen friends leave advertising and launch their own successful careers. One moved to Austin and runs an ice cream shop. Another creates amazing handbags by hand. Both seem a hell of a lot happier than me.

So, as I worked through the uncertainty of finding my next ad agency gig, I started thinking about what else I could be doing… and of course, I couldn’t help but wonder if becoming a yoga teacher was my dharma.

THE MAT IS ALWAYS GREENER

About six years ago, I got really into hot yoga. Within a few weeks, I was hooked. Within a few months, I was ripped. But, within full year, I’d traded 7 a.m. savasana for 7 snooze button punches. It was just too easy to make the “I need sleep, not sweat” excuse and hide under the covers.

After that brief burst of commitment, I’d occasionally take a random weekend class with a friend or follow along with a YouTube video, but, for the most part, yoga was something I thought about doing instead of actually doing. I renamed my yoga pants my “eating pants” and shoved my yoga mat behind a travel suitcase so I didn’t have to look at it more than once a month. Despite my attempts to ignore yoga altogether, there was still a big part of me that wondered if I was missing my true calling: Teaching.

In my mind, becoming a yoga teacher was a magical path to enlightenment.

I fantasized about showing up to the studio early in the morning glowing with joy about my new, stress-free job. Emergency disorganized project kickoff sessions would be replaced by well-orchestrated, synchronized stretching sessions. Every class would begin with a beautiful, inspirational poem and every day would end over hot Chai tea lattes with my other yogi brothers and sisters.

I knew I wouldn’t get any closer to my yoga teacher goal without getting back in shape. But I also knew that I couldn’t afford a monthly yoga subscription. I had about $50 I could blow guilt-free, so I used it to pay for an unlimited month of classes at a nearby studio.

In the changing room, I saw a flyer that changed my options: This studio traded unlimited yoga for three hours of volunteer work a week. I could get my feet on the mat and in the door of a potential new gig.

YOGATTA BE KIDDING ME

My first day as a yoga studio volunteer went well. Between classes, I mopped the massive studio floors, cleaned mats and dumped dirty towels into one of those big laundry bins I’d only seen in TV shows. During classes, I organized the locker rooms, scrubbed showers and vacuumed.

I felt like Peter Gibbons in Office Space when he’s working construction and reveling in the beauty of a simpler, stress free environment. I was getting exercise, breathing in Nag Champa and listening to Buddha Bar compilations over the studio speakers. I knew that every room I cleaned and every mat I rolled would make someone else’s day a little better, and that felt really, really good.

Until it didn’t.

On my third week at the studio, another volunteer joined me. Without any prompting, he immediately informed me that he’d been working as a studio volunteer for a very long time and knew the best way to get things done. Suddenly, my totally zen experience became totally annoying. Over the next three hours, he made sure to let me know everything I was doing was wrong.

According to Little Mr. Micromanagement, the way I sprayed the mats was wrong (“It’s better if you lie them on the ground to spray them instead of spraying them while they hang on the rack”). The way I mopped the studio floor was wrong (“You should start from the right and work your way to the left, not left to right.”). The way I swept was wrong (“Why are you making little piles of dirt around the studio instead of one big one?”) Everything he said irritated me.

Later, I chatted with a freshly certified yoga instructor about what it took to plan for classes. At this studio, instructors were tasked with creating new flows, new soundtracks and new inspirational messages for every session. And, while this yogi loved her new job, I knew from our conversation that it was far from stress-free.

But when my irritating co-worker came into a studio I was cleaning and tried to take away my mop, broom and dust pan — passive aggressively informing me that I was probably not doing it right because I was so worn out from working all day and he’d be happy to take over so I didn’t have to worry about it — I lost it.

“I AM PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF SWEEPING AND MOPPING FLOORS!” I shouted, snatching the supplies back and hoping the class in the studio across the hall hadn’t heard me. A little shocked, he nodded and left the room.

I HAVE ACHIEVED ENLIGHTENMENT!

As I went back to angrily sweeping dirt into little piles across the studio, I had a realization: It doesn’t matter where I work or what profession I choose, there is no workplace in which colleagues, tasks and clients can offer a magical trifecta of stress-free perfection. There is no magical profession in which micromanagers don’t exist and everyone gets along. If there’s work to be done, someone is always going to think they can do it better. If there’s a presentation to lead — whether it’s sun salutations or new business pitches — it’s going to be hard work.

The key to happiness in employment is finding an emotionally-fulfilling space where you’re doing what you love with people you love.

Although the tasks I did as a yoga pants-wearing janitor were completely different than the ones I did as a skinny jeans-wearing creative director, I knew I felt way more fulfilled debating the right way to build a brand than the right way to mop a floor. The trick to success is not finding the perfect gig. The trick is learning how to do your best at what you’re being paid to do and attempting not to murder the people who make doing those things difficult.

Over the next couple of weeks, I learned how to best work with my new colleague. There was no sense in fighting him. Knowing he liked to be in control, I let him lead the charge on how we should tackle our to-do list for the day. And, eventually, we were able to get our jobs done and get along.

So, you ask, will I ever abandon my position as a creative director for yoga teaching?