Not an Exit or Entrance
Originally published at KarenVernon.net on March 27, 2021
Part 1 of a 3-part series on The Career Path Less Traveled
Unlike many people, I’ve never had a singular career goal. I didn’t, for instance, set out on a defined path to be a nurse, an attorney, a physician, an accountant. I started with an undergrad degree in English, and all I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to teach (for which potential students everywhere might say a silent prayer of thanks).
So it’s astounding, when I look back over the past 30+ years, where my meandering career has taken me. Rather than focus on a particular destination, I’ve simply made sure, whatever role I’m in, to show up with my best and give it everything I’ve got. While never perfect, I’ve tried to contribute to my employer’s success, doing my part to make things run smoothly, and taking it all (probably) way too seriously.
That alone has opened doors I couldn’t have imagined as a bright-eyed new grad. It set me on a path to career success and satisfaction, for which I am forever grateful.
Yet despite these best of intentions, sometimes the path has taken me places I didn’t really want to go. I mark a wry anniversary this time each year, acknowledging an instance when I made what I now consider one of the biggest missteps of my career. It was a hasty, emotional decision to change jobs (more on this in Part 2 of this series), when I didn’t listen to my internal alarm bells going off. And I landed in a place I affectionately dubbed the Time Warp.
This quixotic little sign was the first thing I saw when I entered my new office on the first day. It was affixed to what turned out to be a closet, and the fact that the facility couldn’t simply label it “closet” spoke volumes about why this place was not a good fit for me. After four excruciating months, this high performing, get-’er-done, always-make-things-better gal accepted that fact and threw in the towel. And I felt like a failure, kicking myself for making such a stupid decision in the first place.
And yet, in a twist of grace, this little sign has become not so much a symbol of my failure, but a metaphor for the wisdom I gained during and after this experience. While I laugh at its bureaucratic jumble of syntax, it really has guided me as I’ve navigated more recent career and life decisions.
It reminds me that whatever my current state, it’s not permanent; that I need to savor moments of beauty and success when they come, and likewise relax a bit during more challenging times, knowing they, too, will pass.
While my misstep initially felt like a failure – an “exit” – in fact, it wasn’t the end of the world. In this particular case, it led me back to my prior employer, but not before opening the door to conversations about why I’d felt the need to leave in the first place, and how we could make things better if I returned. In hindsight, those were conversations I could and should have had before leaving, but like so many things, it’s a lesson I had to learn the hard way.
The sign is the gift that keeps on giving; it provided fodder for a flash fiction piece I had published last year, and I’ve used it as an example in coaching my kids, friends and colleagues when they are contemplating big decisions. I’ve joked that it will probably be the title of my memoir someday. All this, from a silly little sign.
I’m drawn to its message in times of transition – in life, in career, in this moment of glimpsing light at the end of the pandemic tunnel. It’s about endings, beginnings, and all the unseen spaces in between. Hold on to the good. Trust that the not-so-good will be on its way soon. Listen to yourself. Live in wonder. Embrace the questions. Lean into the unknown.
As Lao Tzu reminds us, “A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.”
No exit or entrance; just the next step in the journey.
Coming Soon – Part 2: The Importance of the Pause