What does a career look like when you have nothing left to prove?

It felt a little bit sinful, talking to R on a Wednesday during work hours. We'd been trying to catch up for nearly two weeks, and she had found a pocket of time to call me during her commute on the East Coast. Of course I wanted to talk with her, but my conversations with R were never brief. Since college, and the few times we'd connected afterward, time stood still. Life was moved to the side. 

My business has propelled me so quickly forward these days that I've had a hard time looking sideways at what's going on around me, let alone behind me. But the universe conspires sometimes. Much of my business travel has brought me back to New York, where I cut my teeth in publishing, or to Chicago, where I grew up but never stayed long enough to appreciate it. This blog has been a conduit to people that knew me at very different junctures in my life. These people have reached out and re-connected. I have been forced to see how much--and how little--I've changed. R had found me via the blog and wanted to pick up the thread where we'd left it years ago.

R wasn't a traditional "BFF"--we didn't do everything together. And after college, when our careers took us to very different places, we didn't make a point of visiting each other. But I've always held her in my heart as a close friend. I felt I was at a significant disadvantage when she emailed me; she knew about my exploits from the blog and I knew nothing about hers.

The last time I'd seen R was at her wedding, nearly 10 years ago. She'd invited a group of women that I had become close to through her--all but one of them were married, or had been married, and some were having kids. And then there was me--single, unemployed, and living in New York City, about to start another miserable job that was to last not three months. I felt far less grounded than the rest of the women, but R brought me back to the reason I was there--to attend the wedding of someone whose life was so different than mine, but with whom I'd shared a unique connection. Despite the very different paths we both knew we would take after college, we used to spend hours on the phone or at the 24-hour diner talking about everything--boyfriends, the ridiculousness of others, and wanting to be impactful and in control of our lives. 

R wanted to spend her last night of singlehood with her girlfriends. At the end of our evening out she drove me to my hotel, where I learned there had been a mistake with my reservation, and I didn't have a room.

"Don't worry," R said. "You can crash with me." We ordered some fries from the drive-thru of the Steak & Shake and went back to her parents' house, where she was staying that weekend before the wedding. I remembered what I found so remarkable about R--her lack of formality, despite her ambition. Most women I knew who were "career" women wanted everything in their lives just so; they needed to perpetuate an image of perfection. R had spent her last night of singlehood out until 3 am, eating cheese fries, and sharing a bed with me.

R studied organizational psychology in college. She knew that, being a "people person" she was headed for a career in HR. After graduation she moved down South and began what I can only describe as the corporate obstacle course of one who knows that she will be with the same company for the rest of her career. She started in the postcollegiate, high-potential group and, when asked, picked up her things and moved whenever she was transferred to another regional office. She'd practically canvassed the South and never questioned this path; her father, who had worked his way up to the top and retired from his company, did it this way. I was more of a "play the field" type; I opted to consult after years of corporate existence, but she endured--in fact she thrived in a hierarchical, structure. R always had a keen sense of humor that armored her in situations that would make others crack. She had high IQ and EQ: People simply liked her and wanted her to do well.

On that Wednesday, when R called, I figured she must be in a fixed, respectable place at her company now, managing many people. All of my suspicions were correct. Her husband had started his own business and was in the throes of long-houred entrepreneurism. She, too, worked long hours commuting to other regional offices because she had staff that she managed across the South.

Everything was as I had expected, though I had forgotten how honest our conversations had been in college. I had forgotten that nothing is ever perfect, and that even the best things come with a price.

The more senior R had become, she said, the more that was asked of her. She realized that to stay on the fast track she had to be willing to keep moving. Now, 10 years into her marriage, childless and not sure if she wanted to change that status, and with a growing interest in interior design, she found herself with more questions than answers.

"I've done everything I said I would," R said. "And I have the job I always wanted. Though I didn't realize that what I want could change."

I asked her about her work. Though R was a self-described people person she found the more analytical side of her job more rewarding. "I realize I don't love managing people," she said. Being good with people and wanting to be around them constantly are two separate things.

R said: "I figured that the more I moved around when I was younger, the more stability I would have later." R did find that stability, but the paradigms beneath her shifted: Sure, she had job security, but in order to keep moving up to more visible positions, the more people she had to manage, the more offices she had to supervise, the more travel she had to be willing to take on, the more upheaval her family would have to endure. All fine, until you realize that you like where you are.

It occurred to me how I had envisioned "making it to the top" would look like when I was much younger. I imagined less stress, not more, and less sacrifice. But corporate dues aren't paid that way. The "higher" you go, the more you take on. The more senior your role, the less busywork you may have--you must delegate to be effective--but you are on the hook to be ever-present, ever-available, and totally committed.

I found the film "The Devil Wears Prada" to be a fascinating study of the degrees of commitment that are required to be successful. This film represented an extreme industry, but it accurately charted the relationship between "success" and commitment. Only when the heroine became fully committed to her job, despite the hard hours and absurd demands of her irrepressible boss, could she rise in the organization. The heroine ultimately rejected this form of success and opted for something else, but the bigger surpise to me was the boss's fate. Though she seemingly had the more glamourous role, it lacked freedom. She was even more entrenched than her underlings. Her work had become her DNA; if she were to have quit, she would have lost herself and been confronted by all that she had sacrificed along the way. To survive emotionally she had to choose to take the road that she did, and then resolve to forget the one she didn't.

This, it seems is the precipice that R is negotiating crossing right now: hold back and remain on the edge, or leap but forget ever coming back to any realm of choice until retirement. It would seem that the real problem is one that most women our age seem to have: We think too much. We think about the alternatives. We think about what we could have done.

One of the paths that both R and I see snaking in and around our own is Motherhood. I don't know if I will ever choose that path, but seeing so many friends on it I can't help but think that I should consider it. I don't believe any longer, however, that choosing both means fulfillment in both. I've become far more black and white in my views. I've seen the frustration in others that have tried to have it all.

Nearly as difficult as choosing which paths to take is determining what not to take. Are there paths that should be diverted? Are the reasons we once started along them no longer valid?

R said something that made me think: "I really like my job; I like making good money. But what I want has simplified. I'm motivated by different things. I don't have anything to prove anymore." I wondered what that meant for me. With nothing to prove where does one go careerwise? Up?... Out?... Deeper? Under the covers? Where does the need to prove something end, and true desire begin? And when you get there, what the hell do you do next?

Comments

[jen]

I think this is something many of us face at this stage in our lives. The questions you ask at the end are not easy ones to answer. My path is slightly different to yours at the moment because of motherhood, but there's still the whole career thing to consider.

I think you have to go with your passion, and if that's outside the workplace you're currently in, then so be it. Easier said than done I'm sure.

Perhaps your mate needs to take up some interests outside of work if she's not already and see where it leads her, or look within the organisation and see what other jobs are available?

Unfortunately there's no simple answer.

[Herman Najoli]

Jory that's a good question. The image that comes to mind is that of Michael Jordan, the great basketball player, close to retirement yet holding his form in the 1998 NBA finals against the Utah Jazz. By this time everybody knows that he is the greatest. As the game comes to a close, Jordan rises against Karl Malone and his final shot hits nothing but net and wins the NBA championship for the bulls. This is the perfect cap to his glorious career. He walks away from the game with joy and satisfaction. When you have nothing left to prove I think you can kick back, relax and live with joy and satisfaction, knowing that you did your very best in the pursuit of your personal potential. What do you think?

[Mike]

My take on the ending of the Devil Wears Prada wasn't that she was going to give up her ambitions, necessarily, just that she was going to have them in a field she really loved. I mean, what's the point of being at the top of the heap if it's the wrong heap?

[dorothy]

I think when you have nothing left to prove, the real fun can start. I've been at my company on and off for five or six years, and I've realized that since I did choose motherhood, I'm not going to choose to take on the hours required to go any higher. But I don't have anything left to prove at my current position. So I've started pushing the limits a little. Circling around and making my nest of a job more what I want it to be, trying to figure out how to ditch the parts I don't like. If this is where I am and am staying, then I want it to be more comfortable, dammit. It's one approach.

And I do think you're wise to realize you can't really have it all. You can, but not all at the same time, and sometimes that's a little hard to swallow. Better to go into it with your eyes open.

[Jay, writer MemberSpeed.com]

Perhaps your friend needs to take some time off to consider how she really wants her life to be. If she has done it all career-wise, it wouldn't be so bad to focus on other things. Not necessarily motherhood. You mentioned she has a growing interest in interior design. That's one possible path for her. Whatever she has sacrificed along the way shouldn't be her main concern. Those sacrifices have shaped who she is at present. Nothing has been wasted.

[nike tn 2013]

Friendships continue as per companion believes that he's got a slight high quality since the many. [url=http://www.9fr.fr/]nike tn 2013[/url] nike tn 2013