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This was possible only because, however, coming out of grad school eight years ago, I made a deeply unsexy career choice: To work full time for money, not passion.
I know, I know—it’s not exactly the stuff of magazine covers. And on one level, this approach goes against everything our culture tells us we should do with our careers. Everyone from your graduation-commencement speaker to your parents’ neighbors to your best friend will likely urge you to use your talents to pursue your dream job no matter what.
And what could possibly be wrong with urging people to do what they love? What kind of monster would urge people to consider a petty little thing like financial security? Let’s face it: No one has ever designed an inspirational poster of an eagle soaring of a canyon with the caption, “Actuaries make decent money—lots of stability, too.”
But there’s something to be said for financial stability. Eight years ago, I was married and living with my in-laws. I had $300 in my checking account, no health insurance, and $22,000 in student debt. All of which highlights the first caveat about this pursue-your-passion business: It’s probably much better advice for someone who’s born rich, or holds a tenured academic position, than it is for the rest of us 99 percenters.
That’s not the only argument to be made against it, either. For starters, it’s almost always worthwhile to think through the contrarian view of any pervasive cliché. As Miya Tokumitsu wrote in her viral 2014 article for Jacobin, the do-what-you-love mantra can end up devaluing necessary but unglamorous labor—as well as the working-class people who perform it. (Nassim Taleb, Alain de Botton, and Mark Greif have offered up their own criticisms, too.)
