Conduct Is a Product
Finding purpose when the job feels shallow.
I was recently at a conference where a member of the crowd presented the age-old question. Regardless of industry, era or title, I think we’ve all been there in some capacity:
How do you find purpose in a job when you don’t value its endgame?
Or maybe you phrase it this way:
I struggle to justify my involvement because the product doesn’t align with who I am or what I’m about.
Or this way:
How do I stay committed to something that’s hard to care about?
A lot of times the suggestion is to move on. Just outright quit your job and find a better fit. Pick up and plug in to the dream job with the killer mission statement, environmental impact, political activism and philanthropic outreach that makes you jazzed to be alive.
And while those gigs are out there to some degree (Patagonia comes to mind for me, but may be different for you), this approach is a bit of a pipe dream. It’s idealistic and admirable, but not always feasible when you add in other factors like family responsibility, cost of living, and all that other logistical stuff that competes.
I’m not saying I don’t resonate. On the contrary, I’m a road trip-loving, backpacker/camper at heart who could live in a van the rest of my life with ease. I dream of it sometimes. Really, I do. 100% freelance, everything I own in the back of a family van, teaching my kids on the road and waking up to a new horizon whenever it called my name. It’s super attractive to me, but my reality is different these days and I’m not willing to give it up. The community ties, the proximity to family, and the Arizona sunsets outweigh my existential crisis.
I’m a content marketing manager in Phoenix, Arizona at a digital agency. Some of my clients have huge budgets and demand innovation. Others are just trying us out and want to start small. I align with the goals of some businesses and others are not my cup of tea. I used to lose a lot of sleep over the whole ordeal.
How can I look back on all this time and hard work when I’m not passionate about its impact?
Is there an impact at all?
Is it worth sweating the work if my heart’s not in it?
How many shits are the right amount of shits to give?
I don’t want my headstone to say ‘Tyler helped sell more XYZ’.
And then it struck me: Conduct is a product.
While every task will not change the world for the better, the way I carry myself and interact with those around me begin to shape everything. When I listen, others have a platform to speak. When I advocate on behalf of creativity and exploration, others put it in action. When someone is curious around me, I get curious too. And so on.
And believe it or not, that influence will impact a project of substance sooner or later.
Conduct isn’t tangible the same way an app, gadget or a building can be “grasped”. But that’s okay, it’s heavier. It’s more dynamic. It navigates every target audience. It ripples.
If your ask is tame, live bold. If the project is limiting, explore the world and people around you. If you don’t play a part in the people or network you care about, share their story beyond the medium right in front of you.
This concept is not so novel, but it’s forgotten in most group dialogue. It’s brushed aside. What you do does not define you. It’s certainly a component, but I beg it’s not the only one.
Who you are and how you live defines you.
So how do you find purpose in a job when you don’t value its endgame?
Stop waking up to sell products and start changing lives by the way you live yours. The widget does not make you. Your legacy does.
And I’d venture to guess that when the time is right to look elsewhere, your conduct will absolutely glow beyond your portfolio.
Thanks for reading. I write to inspire, both here on Medium and over on my site.
