Somehow, sometimes, living in London can suck you in to the belief that your value is based on what you do all day. But your work is not your worth. Your worth is not your work.
I used to believe that some people fulfil the trope “you do what you are”, which I always found a bit more aspirational than the un-muddled-up original phrase which is intended to insinuate that you somehow reflect your professional life and little more.
I’ve never been the sort of person who wanted to be “A Somethingorother”, which at times can feel more isolating than freeing, coming from a family of teachers. And so I am not what I do, and I don’t do whatever it is that I am.
If you are happy doing what you do, you are the exception, not the rule. If you are unhappy, there is something wrong with it, and it’s easy to change because it doesn’t change the fundamental things which make you who you are.
Self worth is not defined by professional success. Your opinion of yourself shouldn’t change when you suffer a setback or a triumph.
Love people for who they are, and what they are like, not what they do. That is their value to you. Having a job to identify yourself by is not the most important way to define yourself. What you do to earn a living is not the most important thing about you.
When meeting new people for the first time, do you ask what they do quite promptly? I rarely include this in introductions. I used to try really hard to avoid that question, but now it turns out I’m generally not all that interested, actually.
The temptation is often to talk about your work as if it defines you, to ensure it gives people evidence for what sort of person you are. But why would you limit anyone to think of you in those terms?
Try it. Stop asking people. And stop thinking of yourself like that.
I couldn’t agree more. PLUS, I spend all the time working and thinking about work; please at least save me from the tedium of discussing it. I will offer up stories and anecdotes if I actually want to talk about it. But mostly I don’t.
‘Your work is not your worth’ is exactly the phrase I focussed on when I was on DLA and not working, I felt so isolated and embarrassed that I didn’t have anything to say when asked what I did. I tried focus on knowing that I had other things going for me that made me not a complete waste of space but it was horrible and I have never really got over it.
On the other hand, I was really good at waiting in for deliveries when my friends had to go to work so that made me feel useful at least 😛
I ask what people do, not immediately, but some way into the conversation; usually because people particularly in London can be quite tribal. If the conversation is a little awkward, for example, I often ask ‘what do you do’ and find out they’re accountants or bankers or whatever, and the conversation has been awkward because we have absolutely zero in common and they’re thinking I’m some airy fairy media creative type. Different tribes. I personally don’t think I’m writing anyone’s worth off by asking, but perhaps I’m not dismissive with it, I’m usually genuinely curious how people spend their days and earn their living.
It reminds me of how the “value”of a person is not simply their economic contribution. We need to stop thinking of people on benefits as less valuable than people who’ve managed to wangle a paying job.
http://smu95rp.tumblr.com/post/107885613978/on-the-idea-that-people-should-be-only-given
The broad sentiment is, of course, true and good. At best, someone’s job is a part of who they are – and it may very well be a part they don’t particularly like.
At the same time, as a shy soul, I often ask what people do. Because? Well, because it’s an obvious question, and while I’m happy to talk about almost anything, I’m quite bad at coming up with things on the spot.
And anyway, I AM interested in all the funny things people do with their day. I have spent many years trying to work out what an accountant actually does, day to day, by quizzing friends and acquaintances at length, at parties, when they’d rather be eating sausage rolls and filling up on punch, about exactly how their job works, and what they do first when they sit down at their desk, and so on. Because I find it fascinating. And, perhaps, because I am a bad person.
But I hope that, if someone doesn’t want to talk about it, I pick up on the cues/lasers/steam.
By contrast, I seldom ask about a person’s hobbies straight off, not because I’m not interested, but because, to me, it’s an unavoidably personal question. Depends on the situation, I guess. (This is less true with people I’ve met via Twitter, for obvious reasons.)
I think the most important thing is that you don’t extrapolate too far from that job title. As you say, turning people into ‘A Somethingorother’ isn’t cool, even if it’s done with the best intentions.