The Things We Don’t Talk About When We Talk About Jobs

Yes, this is a nod to Raymond Carver. If you haven’t read What We Talk About When We Talk About Love, I recommend it. He’s brilliant, sharp, sad, and weirdly comforting — kind of like job hunting in 2025.

Anywhoo...

I usually try to post something a bit positive on Fridays. You know — boost the SEO, keep the algorithm gods happy, and end the week on a semi-hopeful note. But this week, I’m doing something different.

Last week, I decided to press pause on the job search. Properly paused it. Closed all the tabs. Unsubscribed from a few too many job alerts. Left my house. Went and stayed with some old friends.

I’ve known these two for years. Let’s call them Tom and Fiona, partly because they’d absolutely hate being name-checked and partly because, honestly, pseudonyms are fun.

Tom used to be a backend developer in corporate finance — one of those roles where you’re very good at something that drains the soul out of your body before 9am.

I used to live with him and Fiona back when we were all dragging ourselves out of bed at stupid o’clock to commute to our very well-paid but soul-dampening jobs.

He’d stand in the kitchen, silently making coffee, staring out of the window like he was contemplating escape. I did the same. Mutual suffering, mutual nod of solidarity.

Eventually, Tom did the brave thing. He quit.

Not for another flashy role, but to start fixing lawnmowers and doing leatherwork. I mean — proper, skilled leatherwork. It’s beautifully random.

And somehow, it makes perfect sense.

He’s happier now. And while I don’t have the bank buffer to make that kind of leap myself (yet), I respect the hell out of it. Because it’s not just about walking away from a salary — it’s walking away from a certain identity. And building a new one from scratch.

Meanwhile, I’m still figuring mine out.

And just to spice things up — my partner still works for the company I quit.

He also works with the agency I joined after quitting, and then left (post-redundancy, cheers for that). Every morning at 9:15 on the dot, I get to hear him on Zoom/Teams/Whatever calls with all my ex-colleagues.

It’s... surreal. Depending on the day, I either laugh, or cry into my tea.

Here’s the thing no one really tells you: jobs aren’t just jobs. They’re autonomy. Identity. Structure. Confidence. They give you a sense of who you are — even when you hate them.

Maybe they shouldn’t mean that much. Maybe the healthiest people are the ones who can leave a job and shrug it off.

But I’m not one of those people. And maybe you aren’t either.

What I am is lucky. Because this week, I stayed with friends who have both money and compassion.

They let me show up a bit broken, and reminded me that I’m still creative, talented, and welcome. That I’m more than my current employment status. That my partner is supportive. And that I have people in my life who had the guts (and, let’s be honest, financial runway) to build careers they actually want.

So, what’s the takeaway here? (That's what you have to say these days, right?)

Honestly, I’m not sure.

Maybe it’s this: life is hard. Give yourself a break. If you don’t, life will do it for you — and probably not in a gentle way.

Take care of yourself. Rest. Remember that you’re still you — even when you're in between things.

I send hugs to y'all!