The Mutually Exclusive Pursuit of Money or Happiness

As I write this, I’m lucky enough to be working a small patchwork of jobs I enjoy.

I’m a creative writing teacher, freelance writer, and a track coach. Cobbling all these together is exhausting, as my days off are few and far between. It’s work, but it’s work I like and find personally fulfilling.

I’m also just scraping by financially.

With the supply chain shortages and the current war in Ukraine, prices for everything are going up. How much of this recent rise in the cost of living is a direct result of these current difficulties versus opportunistic corporations seizing the chance to raise prices under the guise of global struggles is difficult to say.

All I know is I paid $5.79 a gallon for regular unleaded gas this week.

And my health insurance payment went up $50 a month.

And my rent will go up another $100 this summer.

And the same groceries I got for around $75 last week were $100 this week.

And I would rather not talk about my student loans. Let it suffice to say that my education cost more than my best friend’s first house.

Meanwhile, my meagre income has not gone up. Yet, I suspect this increased cost of living will be permanent, even after the supply chain problems and war in Ukraine are over.

Because ‘Murica. And because fuck you, that’s why.

I recently had a conversation with my cousin during which we discussed jobs and income. I expressed my concerns over the increase in living costs and my current limited income. He works in corporate tech sales, an occupation which suits his personality and strong intrapersonal communication skills.

Dude could sell ice to Frosty the Snowman.

“You should get into to tech. That’s where the money is,” he told me. “I paid off my student loans in seven years.” He and his wife also recently bought a home and are looking to start a family.

I’m not wired for sales. I don’t have the natural charisma my cousin does, nor do I have that killer instinct to push products and upsell and convince reluctant buyers that I have what they need. Moreover, I worked retail for five soul-crushing years devoid of hope and humanity. I hated it. Never having to work in retail or sales again was my biggest motivator to finish college.

However, when I graduated and began looking for employment, the vast majority of jobs for which I interviewed were sales positions. I didn’t know they were sales positions when I applied, as the job descriptions were written in such a way that they seemed to intentionally disguise that the job was in sales.

Some of them flat out lied. I went in for a “marketing content specialist” position, the description for which led me to believe I’d be doing some form of advertising-related copywriting. I was vastly mistaken. I left that interview annoyed that we had all wasted our time.

Here’s the thing.

It’s possible to make a great living in sales. And I’ll admit, a lot of my anxiety comes from my concerns over my financial instability.

However, I know that I would be miserable in sales.

I asked my cousin if he was happy in tech sales. He just shrugged and said, “It’s alright” without enthusiasm.

I’ve worked my share of shitty jobs, some of which were so bad, I gave earnest consideration and research into convincing ways of faking my death just so I wouldn’t have to show up anymore.

I don’t want to spend my time doing something I loathe simply to make ends meet. Moreover, I’m not looking for just another job. I’d like to work toward a career, one that I enjoy.

However, none of the jobs I’ve enjoyed working at have had paid a living wage, much less offered career opportunities.

So, I find myself at one of life’s great forks in the road.

One path leads to financial stability, employee benefits, and job security, but at the price of a few decades of being miserable. The other path leads to personal and creative fulfillment and mornings where I wake up excited to get to work, but at the cost of financial security.

There doesn’t seem to be a middle road.

When I was a kid, I was told I could be anything I wanted to be when I grew up. Like many children at the time, I was encouraged to follow my dreams, to find that thing in life that made me happy.

The day I graduated high school, the tune changed drastically to “you’d better get a fucking job because shit ain’t free.” It didn’t matter which job, only that I was gainfully employed. So I got a job working at a nationwide gym chain, getting screamed at by guys on steroids while the owner was banging strippers in the office. In the four months I worked there (that was all I could stomach), I worked under three different managers. And in the men’s locker room, it seemed like the toilet was a mild suggestion.

But I had a job, and that’s all anyone gave a shit about.

It was the first in a long line of me working horrible jobs and being miserable because the pursuit of happiness was a distant second to the need to pay bills.

What blew my mind is how common it is that people just accept being miserable at work. It’s become so ingrained in our culture that almost no one questions it. And when someone asks why we’re all so miserable, we all shrug and rotely reply that we’re just making ends meet.

Furthermore, when someone declares that they’re going to pursue their dream, they are often met with staunch skepticism and resistance.

When I tell people I’m an aspiring novelist, I almost always get the follow up question of “What’s your real job?” I’m then urged to prioritize working some job I’d hate and pursue my “writing hobby” in my spare time.

This bothers me because the implied message is “don’t chase your dream because doing so is unlikely to result in financial success.” It bothers me because I understand the basic need to earn income. We all have bills to pay and costs of living to cover.

It bothers me because, when I broke my neck, I substantially shorted my life expectancy. I don’t want to spend the limited time I have working a job I hate simply because it’s what’s expected of me.

Moreover, I’ve listened to a number of podcasts and interviews with people who have successfully chased their dreams. All of them have said they succeeded because they went after their dream with everything they had. The “do it in your spare time” approach doesn’t work.

Why?

Because we get tired. We spend our precious time and energy earning a living, most of us doing thing we hate just to stay financially afloat. And when we’re not working, we’re busy with things like friends, family, kids, and other obligations we have as responsible adults.

If we take the one foot in, one foot out approach, eventually, we’ll quit on our dream. Any time we spent pursuing it will have been wasted after we abandon it.

Thus, the pursuit of our dreams falls by the wayside.

Recently, I sent a novel manuscript off to an editor for evaluation. In the course of our preliminary conversations, he complimented me on my courage for pursuing my dream.

“Courage?” I asked. Nothing about sitting in front oy my laptop, guzzling coffee, and completely withdrawing from the outside world seems courageous.

“The reason most people fail, whether it’s writing or anything else they dream about doing, is because they lack the courage to really go after what they want,” he said. “Trying is risky. People feel bad when they try and don’t succeed. But people eventually feel worse when they realize they never tried when they had the chance.”

How many people die filled with regrets from the chances they never took? How many people waste their years laboring in misery?

By the way, that’s your life. You don’t get a rebate at the end of it. Death doesn’t show up, scythe in one hand and a clipboard in the other, and tell you, “Well, I was scheduled to take you today, but I see you spent 40 years in that job you hated, so I’ll come back in a few years.”

When I reach the end of my life, I don’t want to look back and wallow in regret. I don’t want the bulk of my memories to be shitty experiences from a job I hated. I already have enough of those.

I would rather try and fail than to never have tried at all, and wonder at what could have been.

It’s a cliché, but it’s true that life is short.

Mine will likely be shorter than average. I don’t want to waste it working a job I hate simply to pay bills.

I don’t need fame or fortune. If I ever earn them, they will by a by-product of succeeding at my dream. I don’t need my name to echo across history. I don’t need to ever be remembered among the great writers of our time.

Rather, I want to look forward to each day. I want to bring people happiness or a moment’s respite through the stories I tell. I want to leave this life having been fulfilled by my work.

We all get one life. Let’s make it count.

If you liked this story and/or my writing, sign up for my email list to stay up to date on new stories, upcoming features, and cool news. C’mon, support a struggling writer already!

Do you enjoy the content but you aren’t a Medium member? Sign up here to become a member and get unlimited access to all of my stories as well as other writers who might tickle your reading fancy.

You can also follow me on Twitter, Instagram, Vocal, and BitClout.