Sunny & Cloudy: A Lifestyle Blog
Is the Dream Job Worth It? And 23 Other Questions You Ask Yourself When Job Hunting
On the outside looking in, San Francisco is a dream city. It boasts the lowest unemployment rates in the country, voted the best place to start a new business, and has a booming market in Enhanced Positions. Recently San Francisco has had a surge in the population of 6%, which is excellent for the overall businesses established.
Yet, for those looking for new opportunities, their options are much scarcer when they realize the issue is underemployment. 23% report that their job is part-time or contractual. Another 15% claim they don’t receive proper compensation in comparison to their debt (student loans, mortgage, etc.). Even worse, 65% report that they were forced to sacrifice pursuing their dream job to make a living.
For those who feel stuck in a field you don’t like, want to switch out of, can’t take for another day, you are not alone. Here are the answers to the 23 questions you probably already asked yourself.
1) What is your dream?
This seems like an easy question to ask, but it’s actually the one where most get stumped. You know what you don’t want, but do you know what you do want? What kind of job makes you happy? What type of company do you want to work for? What exactly do you expect from that job? Essentially, ask yourself, what do you want?
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“It’s weird,” Alex declared, “I mean, look at this thing!”
Alex picked up the work manual and let it drop. The bang rang in her ears and made her friend, Liane, wince over video chat. Alex was glad her mom wasn’t there to hear it or complain about Alex being dramatic. “It’s a freaking monster.”
“I mean...is it really a surprise that private school kids are a hassle?” Liane asked.
“It’s not, but I highly doubt Gideon Hill Prep has a work manual like this,” Alex said. She thumbed through the first few pages, the tiny words blurring together. “How do I even know broke a rule in this thing?”
“One,” Liane said.
“Oh, come on. That doesn’t count. That’s a legit question,” Alex exclaimed.
“Did you ask it for legitimate reasons?” Liane interrogated.
“Yes.”
“Your fingers twitched, which means you’re lying. One.” Alex groaned before leaning back on her couch. “But keep going. This is getting interesting.”
“It’s not interesting. It’s overbearing,” Alex grumbled. “I mean, are these realistic expectations? I feel like I’m one signature away from joining a cult.”
“Two.”
“Really?”
“Two.”
“Ugh.”
“Keep going.”
“I just wanted information about admin and work schedules and if I get free lunch but no. Now, I have to wonder if I should buy Ronaldo Lauren and an MCN satchel,” Alex ranted. “I mean, move closer to the school? That’s ridiculous! You haven’t even paid me yet! You’re going to reassure you want me for me before slapping me in the face with ‘oh, by the way, you can’t look broke.’ What the fuck was that?”
“And three.” Liane sighed, rubbing her neck as though she had a cramp in it. “My turn.”
“That question was rhetorical at best—”
“No. You know the rules. Stop trying to twist them every time.” Alex sat back again with a pout. Yeah, she knew the rules.
Since Alex had a terrible habit of ranting for hours on end when she felt anxious--with Liane on usually the receiving end--they made a rule. Alex could ask three questions in her rant, rhetorical or not, before Liane stepped in and gave her two cents, which meant fixing the problem. Or point out Alex’s biggest fears.
It usually fell into the latter category.
“Okay, let’s look at this realistically,” Liane said. “You knew with the salary and benefits of that quality, the school's expectations would be high.”
“Yes, but—”
“Not that high,” Liane finished. “I know. Breathe.” Alex stared at her stubbornly until Liane lifted her finger as she was about to press the end call button. She reluctantly took a deep breath.
“Anyway, have you looked through the whole manual yet?” she asked. Alex gave her a pointed look.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“I barely got through the first few pages without feeling the need to take notes,” Alex said sarcastically.
“Then, take them,” Liane shrugged. “You can get through the Odyssey and Moby Dick but not a manual?”
“The manual is boring.”
“Your choice in literature is boring.”
“This is not supposed to be an attack on my character.”
“No, this is supposed to be an attack on your fear,” Liane stated bluntly. Alex winced before picking up her glass of wine. “Are you afraid it’s not a legit job?”
“No,” Alex huffed, running her finger along the glass’ rim. “It’s…I don’t know. It’s an odd school, but I don’t get the vibe that it’s a scam.”
“So, it’s that you feel like you have to pretend to be rich the whole time? Did the department chair give you that impression?”
“A bit, but it sounded more like a ‘do it till retention is over’ thing,” Alex relented. “It’s still annoying.”
“Alright. Then, like the guru—“
“Oh, god, not the guru,” Alex groaned, already rolling her eyes at the thought of the stupid reality/lifestyle show, Make It Work with Dr. Zion. It gave good advice, but it made Liane cry every single episode; Alex put a 2-episode cap whenever they were together.
“Like the guru says,” Liane insisted, “Let’s dig deeper. What’s your real fear, Lex? What’s the heart of your fear?”
“If you keep talking like that, I’m not going to answer,” Alex warned. Liane closed her mouth and looked at Alex expectantly. “I fear…no, I know I’m missing something. I just can’t figure it out. It’s nothing obvious or outlandish. I just have this feeling…” Alex trailed off.
“And you’re worried it’ll backfire on you,” Liane observed.
“I’m worried that it will be more than I can handle,” Alex corrected. “What will it look like if I get fired from this top school in a matter of months? Who would hire me then?”
“You’re a responsible person, Alex,” Liane said. “If you can teach in different countries with different laws than you can do this. And as far as looking the part, you already kind of do. Between you and your mini shopping sprees at Russell’s, you can get a ‘high-end’ wardrobe in your budget. You do now, anyway.”
“I think I look practical,” Alex defended.
“Tell that to your lavender coat,” Liane laughed. “And relax. I’m not making fun of you.” Alex made a face at Liane before taking a sip of her wine, humming in appreciation. She needed to stock up on this stuff.
“The contract is only a year,” Liane continued. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to stay. Hell, treat the probation like it’s for them. See how you like the kids and the admin stuff before going all the way through. It’s a tryout for everybody!”
“…and if I fail?”
“You can come stay with me for a month.” Alex opened her mouth to protest, but Liane beat her to the punch. “Just for vacation! You can sit, relax, get your head together, and figure it out.”
“Huh, a month-long vacation already? I might quit now,” Alex teased.
“Hey, you’re buying your plane ticket, so you might want to make it to your first paycheck.”
“How’s the heat?” Alex asked, changing the subject. Liane fanned herself dramatically.
“It’s my mortal enemy, but the view is the love of my life,” Liane lamented before flipping her camera so Alex could see out the window to the skyscrapers of Dubai. “It misses you.”
“I miss you, too.”
Around 10 pm, after her mom got back from visiting her friends, Alex did what she hadn’t done in a long time: she took out her highlighters and poured a second glass of wine. By 2 am, she was brewing coffee because why the fuck not? What did she have to wake up for? According to her email, nothing.
She poured over each line of the work manual, writing notes in the corner in red, highlighting unclear terms, and fine print she had to double-check with Adeline. In green pen, she ranted in the margins. Slowly but surely, the numbers on her computer ticked by until she looked up and it was 4 am. She was two-thirds of the way done, and her eyes were exhausted.
She contemplated her notes.
There were small things she was concerned about: event requirements at the school, the parent-teacher conference structures, days off, etc., but were all things she could live with. Yet, apprehension stayed. She was missing something big, but what could it be?
She closed the manual and took out the contract. Again, there were only a few marks on it here and there, things she planned to discuss with Adeline, but nothing she seriously wanted to change. (Except for workshops during the holidays. She was not missing New Year’s over that). She tapped her fingers before letting out a long sigh that turned into a yawn. Fuck it, she thought, turning to the first page.
She grabbed the black pen that had been waiting on the far corner of the table all night and scribbled her signature on five different sheets. She recapped the pen and tossed it away from her, laying back down on the couch with her eyes closed. A weight lifted off of Alex’s shoulders, and she had a feeling her curiosity would be awarded very soon.
“I signed the contract,” Alex informed her mom a week later. “Sent it a couple of days ago so, mark your calendar. I will finally be out of your hair in about two months.”
“Aw, man,” her mom said. “Just around the time of the finale of Puzzle Maker. The prosecutor finally built the case against Harry.” Alex laughed as she wrapped an arm around her mom’s shoulder.
“I can come over for that,” Alex told her. “I won’t move too far, and I won’t be around to bother you about food or laundry.” Her mother threw her head back and laughed dramatically.
“I give it a week,” she declared.
“Hey,” Alex frowned. “I’m good at that stuff.”
“Yeah, that’s not the part that’s going to get you,” her mom said. “It’s going to be the dishes.”
Before Alex could refute (lie) about that statement, the doorbell rang. Alex got up immediately.
“You’re expecting someone?” her mom asked skeptically.
“No, no,” Alex told her. “The books for my class are being delivered today. Adeline told me they were updating the materials this year, and I asked if I could have them shipped here to start lesson planning. I was sure she would say no because of the privacy policy, but she said it was fine.”
Alex opened the door and picked up the plain cardboard box with more ease than she anticipated. She raised her eyebrows as she moved it to the kitchen table. She knew there were only a few books for the semester, but they should have a little more weight to them. She used a key to open the box and quickly understood why Adeline wasn’t worried about a privacy violation.
“So, what are they reading?” her mom asked, joining her. “Shakespeare? Emily Dickinson?”
“Comic books…” Alex trailed off, picking up the first book. It was an 80’s Batman comic, the first one in the shallow stack of books. If it can be considered that. Alex didn’t. “Comic books?!”