Sunday, June 7, 2015

What a way to make a living

What is your dream job, and do you have it?

I think about this a lot.

Not a week goes by where I don’t try to convince H. that we should quit our jobs and move to some amazing, giant, old house I’ve spotted on Old House Dreams.

When I was in university and thinking about my career direction, I had two ideas: 1) the publishing industry and 2) the Canadian government. Can you imagine – career dreams of the Canadian government? Well, I was interested in politics and it offered good, steady and potentially interesting jobs. One long summer working one of the student jobs offered by the Canadian government rid me of that idea, and a summer internship at a publisher in NYC set me on the path to where I am now.

No richys here.
I don't dislike my job. In fact, I like it a lot.

People warned me that publishing wasn’t as glamorous as it appeared (true), and that the jobs were low-paying (ouch; painfully true). But, it’s hard to deny that there is a caché to it, and I do enjoy it. However, when you spend as much time daydreaming of moving far away from New York City - as I do - you have to wonder what you can do outside of publishing. And what else you might enjoy doing.

As far as I can tell my top five careers don’t exist:

1)    Puppy-petter
2)    M&Ms Eater
3)    Professional Napper
4)    Internet Snoop
5)    Burrito Ambassador

So, what then? What am I looking for? In my daydreams I work from home, which appeals to my anti-social tendencies. No colleagues, no photocopiers, no meetings, no office politics! Dreamy.

Izzy shares my anti-social feelings.
After we went to Savannah last year, I tried to convince H. that we should move down there and open a bookstore, which shows you my business sense because bookstores are a booming business, aren’t they? But doesn’t it sound divine? You’d do a lot of online used book sales, mixed used and new book sales in store, lots of readings and community events… You’d have a dog in the store. The scene is perfect.

Or, I daydream about buying a big old house in the country, or a small town, maybe in Maine or Vermont or upstate New York. Somewhere cheap (house and cost of living) and from there I sell junk I find in thrift stores on eBay and Etsy. Now that is the life! Combine my interest in junk with my interest in living somewhere quiet!

Ready to blow this pop stand.
Lately, my desire to not live in the city has gone into overdrive. It was already pretty high, and having a toddler pushed it further. Continuing problems with our building push it further: heat problems (too much/not enough), hot water problems (not enough), and the businesses on the first floor of our building make it an increasingly unpleasant place to live.

How did I get from dream jobs to gripes about this city? Well, my job/industry is closely tied to New York, or a few other cities, so they are hand in hand.In fact, I'm so ingrained in this way of thinking that often I can't even think or understand what jobs exist outside of the city, except lawyer, teacher and doctor. What do people do?


  1. I feel ya. About once a week I think I should quit my job and do something creative. PS- I have a friend who is slowly developing an e-publishing business she can do from home as her hubby is planning on joining the military and she needs a more mobile job. Maybe something like that would be up your alley?

  2. So, what then? What am I looking for? In my daydreams I work from home, which appeals to my anti-social tendencies. No colleagues, no photocopiers, no meetings, no office politics! Dreamy.

    I hear you! And it was so, so great ... right up until they told me I had to start driving 1.5 hours each way at least three days a week and then I blew that popsicle stand.

    I don't know what sort of contacts you have in the publishing world but I have been quite surprised by how profitable some of these book tour companies are. One of the ladies I spoke with had her dog barking in the background and her mom yelling at her to get off the phone because it was time for junior's dinner. (Obviously I did not go with them.)


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