“What do you do?”
“Well, I work in a coffee shop, but I just finished a Ph.D. in literature.”
“Well, I work in sales right now, but I have a degree in biochemistry.”
“Well, I’m trained as a chiropractor, but now I’m a stay-at-home mom.”
“Well, I taught for thirty years, but I just recently retired.”
“Well, I used to be an engineer, but now I tutor math students part-time.”
“Well, I’m between jobs at the moment, but I’m an architect.”
“Well…”
It is such a simple word, yet with it we convey so much about the way a query makes us feel. We pause and drag out the vowel, attempting to delay our carefully rehearsed response. That simple letter “e” stands in for a string of phrases: “If you must know…I was hoping you wouldn’t ask that question…it’s a long story.” When we finally exhale our reply, it slides out smoothly, but inside, the subtext is something like this: “I know my situation doesn’t fit the mold. I know it violates some unspoken rule about meaningful careers, or modern ideals, or the American Dream, or industriousness, or personal ambition. I’m sorry. Please don’t judge me.”
I have heard the same tone of reluctant confession coming from recent college graduates who are confronting a shifting job market and living at home, parents who have opted out of mainstream careers in order to homeschool their children, employees who have been laid off as a result of the economic downturn, and retirees who find themselves floundering when they are cut loose from a lifelong career identity. Each of these people felt the need to apologize because his or her version of work did not conform to the dominant paradigm.