I was lucky enough to find my ideal career niche in my mid-twenties, and to be able to make a modest living at it as a freelancer. My former father-in-law once remarked that part of how I was compensated was in “psychic income.” He may have meant that as a suggestion that I wasn’t the world’s most astute businesswoman. But I remember thinking that as long as my basic material needs (e.g., a roof over my head, food on the table–and in my case, enough left over to keep me in books) were being met, I was pleased to have work that also fed me in non-material senses, with plenty of variety, opportunities to grow and learn, virtually no politics, and a feeling of being appreciated by my clients.

Then I was offered a corporate position for what seemed like a huge salary and extremely generous benefits. The skills I’d be using would be virtually identical to what I’d been doing on a freelance basis. Sure, I’d lose a bit of variety and quite a bit of freedom. But I’d no longer have the hassles of constantly marketing and all the administrivia that goes with running a sole proprietorship. So I figured why not?

Two years later, I lost that job. Once the initial shock and anxiety wore off, I realized that the firm had unwittingly done me a favour by letting me go. Although I might never have had the nerve to voluntarily walk away from the money and the illusion of security, I’ve really been *much* better off since they showed me the door.

When soldiers are sent into harm’s way, they receive supplementary compensation beyond what they’d get if they were serving outside a war zone. It’s called “hazard pay.”

I’ve come to believe that the high salaries paid by some organizations are often a kind of danger pay. To spend my days (and often my nights and weekends) in a windowless grey cubicle on the 29th floor of a downtown office tower, doing work that was largely unappreciated by the Powers That Be, was at best not much fun–and at worst, downright dangerous to my mental, emotional, spiritual, and even physical health.

I spent a lot of that salary on goods and services that were in some way made necessary by the very fact that I was occupied so unhappily for such a big chunk of every day/week: e.g., restaurant meals; taxis (because I was too exhausted and/or pressed for time to walk or take public transit); a housekeeper; and massages, OTC remedies, gym memberships, and weekend “getaways” to spas or resorts. The costs of convenience and of keeping my stress levels somewhat in check were high. And the “wear and tear” on my health was even higher. In one particularly wretched 6-month stretch, I gained 50 pounds, became profoundly depressed, and experienced a nasty flareup of a chronic illness that wound up landing me in the hospital for several months.

Nowadays, although I’m earning considerably less, I feel vastly richer: in joy, in improved health (from making my own meals and walking lots more), in time and energy to pursue a balance of activities–both work and play–that I find fulfilling and meaningful.

A friend and I were walking near a busy midtown intersection late yesterday afternoon. We were surrounded by people hurrying home from their day’s work. She remarked on how virtually nobody was smiling. I found the sea of dead expressions–sprinkled with outright scowls– sad, but scarcely surprising. Seems to me it’s the inevitable result of selling one’s soul for the sake of mere money.

The positions on offer at that job fair were diverse and surprising–even Diana was gobsmacked!. So it turns out that it’s quite incorrect to say that an English major translates into a narrow range of jobs. In fact, every company representative at that job fair had also been an English major!

They included an intern at the Wall Street Journal, a Master’s degree holder who was a VP at a huge insurance company, a Ph.D. in Medieval Literature who was writing corporate brochures for a bank, and at least three who had opened their own computer companies. (Apparently, English majors have some amazing computer skills: maybe it’s something to do with the way they think.) Another worked in advertising, and somone else headed up career development at a major college. Fundraisers were big employers too: one woman on the job panel did just that for the prestigous Shaw and Stratford theatre festivals.

Jamie, you may feel stuck, like you can’t move, but take heart. Your SKILLS are portable. They go WITH you.

Hunt for something that turns your crank. Then apply for it. When you have another career option or two, your fear will morph into pure confidence. YOU’RE driving, ’cause you pick what’s best for you. If you don’t finish your doctorate, you’re still successful. All not getting your Ph.D. means is that you may not qualify for a narrow band of jobs. You’ve got WAY more to offer than that!

Besides, in the grand scheme of things, maybe you were meant to do something else. Sometimes our destinies unfold by closing a door, blocking an opportunity. We keep trying to push it open, because we’re unaware of the message we’re being given. Maybe you were meant to zig instead of zag. Who knows? Maybe the new direction will be more rewarding and richer for you than what you do now. What do you think?