A recent Stylist article about our deep-rooted work ethic in the UK got me thinking about ‘flexappeal’ and how our day jobs are dictating our lives.
80’s babies are probably the last in a dying breed of those whose parents worked ‘a job for life’, leaving school and getting a job which would support them until retirement, if they gave it their undivided attention. They worked hard and they told us kids to do the same, if we wanted to have more than they did growing up.
Since my pack lunch days I’ve been instilled with the belief that if you work hard, you reap the rewards. So I worked myself silly at school and Uni trying to be the best I could whilst battling dyslexia and a deep-bedded hatred for anything involving numbers.
The reward of all that was landing my first job in PR, and all the joys which come with being an inexperienced tadpole in that kind of shark tank. See earlier posts on that very subject…
Eight years and six agencies later, I’m earning OK and thankful for it, but still none the wiser on what truly makes me happy or rewarded in life. Is that normal?