In the intervening period, though, she’s taken another job, one that will lead a different direction. And she’s loving [...]]]> A friend of mine recently got the opportunity to apply for a full-time marketing job at a company she loves. She’s been doing marketing for years, and six months ago, this was exactly what she wanted.

In the intervening period, though, she’s taken another job, one that will lead a different direction. And she’s loving the new work. She’s excited by it. She’s challenged by it.

But when the old-desired opportunity showed up, literally at her desk, she got conflicted.

The shoulds come knocking

It’s easy to get caught up in what jobs we think we should apply for, what careers we should pursue.

Sometimes it’s about previous experience or prior desires, as it was for my friend. Sometimes it’s about prestige – about certain careers being “good” and others not. Sometimes it’s about our families of origin and the kinds of jobs or careers they pursued.

Unless you’re actively unemployed and need a job to pay the rent and buy the groceries (and that is very, very real), I’d recommend passing on the shoulds. Because the shoulds are a one-way ticket to stuck and stasis.

Stuck and stasis are not helpful

When the shoulds are involved, it’s easy to tell ourselves that it’s just “for now.” Just until we find something better.

Maybe that’s staying in your graduate program. Maybe that’s adjuncting. Maybe that’s teaching at an institution you don’t fit in a place you hate. Maybe that’s teaching high school when you really don’t like teenagers. Maybe that’s taking an office job that bores you silly at your mom’s organization to get your foot in the door.

But here’s what happens after that. We’re kind of comfortable. We’ve gotten a few more lines on the resume. The work isn’t painful, but it’s not challenging or interesting either, or the working environment takes a constant toll on us. Maybe we’re even getting paid a decent salary.

And so, when it’s time to actually go find that other job, the one we actually truly want, we hesitate.

Change is doable

The reason people get trapped is that they’re afraid. Changing jobs and careers takes a lot of work, and it’s hard to have confidence that you can do it successfully.

But the way to gain confidence – and thus keep yourself moving towards your actual goal – is to understand that changing jobs and careers is a process. It’s not exactly a linear process, but it’s a defined process none-the-less.

And the way to get comfortable with that particular type of change is to get familiar with and comfortable with the process.  The situation will always be different. But the process, the process is always the same. (Says the girl who’s changed careers three times!)

That’s part of why I’m teaching this new Becoming Post-Academic class – because I want you to learn about the process enough to be comfortable, and so be comfortable going after what you really want.

If you’re interested, you can learn more by clicking here. But however you do it, give yourself the gift of learning about the process, so you can step into it with confidence, with grace, and with success.

What did a sausage handler do? They had no idea. But the very opacity of the position led to years of jokes.

A while back I had decided that I need to just give it up and move back into my parents’ house, but then little things keep popping on the horizon that look like possibilities, and [...]]]> The inimitable Sisyphus, who has been looking for a job for a while now, describes an all-too-common situation in academia:

A while back I had decided that I need to just give it up and move back into my parents’ house, but then little things keep popping on the horizon that look like possibilities, and I think, hey, I might be able to get this one and why bother dealing with moving if I’m going to be moving somewhere permanent soon anyway? Then that oasis turns out to be a mirage, and I keep crawling along.

Anyone who’s struggled with finding a job has had this experience — the just-missed, the nearly-there, the what-if. It’s the incrementalism that kills you. “But this next one won’t take much effort, and what if it’s the one? But this next one won’t take much ….”

So how do you decide enough is enough and it’s time to move on?

Give yourself the gift of a limit

The problem is, there’s no clear cutoff. There’s a limit to how many times you can take the bar exam, but there’s no limit to how long you can spend looking for a job.

And that means you have to create limits for yourself.

This is most easily done at the beginning. How long are you willing to do this? One year? Six months? Two years? What feels reasonable? What feels like enough time to find out what’s what?

And then you mark it down somewhere, make a date with yourself to reassess.

It doesn’t mean you have to stop at that limit. It only means it’s a point at which you stop, you look around, and you see what there is to see.

A few things you might see

When you do stop to look around, there are a few things that are worth thinking through.

• Has anything changed? That is, has something happened externally to improve the situation? Has something happened internally to improve the situation? What’s different now than when you set off on this particular phase of the adventure? What does that suggest about moving forward?
• How close have you come? If you’re repeatedly getting almost-there but not quite, it may only be a matter of time. If you’re knocking on door after door and not getting much response, it may be better to cut and run.
• Do you still want it? We can be creatures of inertia and bull-headed to boot. Do you still want this or is it now mostly a matter of pride? If you got the job tomorrow, would you be exhilarated or would you think, “well, shit”?

And now what?

Depending on what you find when you stop to look around, you may want to set another “let’s look around” date and keep going, or you might want to take this opportunity to choose something else. What else is appealing? What else can you do?

That’s not to say either is an easy choice, just that you have the choice. But you won’t consider your choices unless you give yourself the time and space to do so.

What if the beginning was a long, long time ago?

If you’re in the midst of it, see if you can take a break right now.

Ask yourself the questions above. How long have you given to this? How long are you willing to give to this?

It’s really easy to be motivated by pride and it’s shadowy sister, shame, to just keep pushing through, to keep trying, to make one last effort for the 57th time.

But stop and look. What do you want now?

Also? This sucks. And it’s not you.

Whereever you are in the process, though, and whatever choices you make when you stop and look around, know these two things.

This process blows. It’s distressing, demoralizing, and crazy-making. The process itself, the time it takes, the amount of work, will make your head explode even if you’re successful. And if you aren’t getting the offer you want, then it’s even worse.

And finally, it’s not you. You’re fabulous and wonderful and smart and talented. The system is pretty broken, and “success” here looks a lot like “sheer, unadulterated luck.” Sometimes we have it, sometimes we don’t. It doesn’t have to mean more than that.

What they don’t cover, however, is all those sticky questions that come up [...]]]> Let’s face it: There are a million different resources for how to write resumes and cover letters, and your local public library, not to mention your university’s career center, probably has feet upon feet of shelf space devoted to writing job materials.

What they don’t cover, however, is all those sticky questions that come up for those of us who have left or are leaving academia.

• How do I explain my research when it’s not relevant to the job I’m applying for?
• How do I explain why I left academia without sounding like a loser, a crackpot, or a chronically dissatisfied person?
• How do I prove my workplace skills when all I’ve ever done is teach classes and research my topics?
• What fears are employers likely to have about PhDs that I need to pay attention to as I’m writing my application?
• How do I get references when I don’t want to let my colleagues know I’m leaving until I have a job?

I’m offering a free, 90-minute teleclass on Wednesday, February 3 at 8pm ET to talk about just those sorts of questions. So if you’re thinking about leaving and want some academia-specific guidance on how to make the leap in your job materials, sign up here.

If you want the info but can’t make the call, sign up anyway — I’ll send the recording out to everyone who signed up.

And if you’ve got specific questions you want me to talk about, put them in the comments here or shoot me an email. I’m looking forward to it!

Maybe it’s your chair, maybe it’s a favorite colleague, maybe it’s a [...]]]> Let’s say you’ve decided to leave academia. You’re awash in a complicated sea of emotions: grief, anger, bitterness, relief, hope, fear. And now, in the middle of all of this difficult, emotional work, you have to explain to someone else that you’re leaving.

Maybe it’s your chair, maybe it’s a favorite colleague, maybe it’s a parent or a grad school friend. But you have to explain it in such a way that they get it and accept it — and preferably without you either launching into a bitter rant or falling into a weeping puddle at their feet.

And on top of your own fears about falling apart in some way come the fears about their judgment, criticism, doubt, and anxiety.

So what do you do?

First, you plan

You know the people you’ll likely have to tell, so figuring out ahead of time how you’ll explain it will give you a road map to follow when all you want to do is fall apart. And that means thinking about the following things:

• What’s the purpose of telling this person? Yes, it’s to inform them, but there will almost always be other, more subtle purposes attached. Maybe you want to get the hell out of Dodge without explaining to your department chair that your program’s supervisor is a micromanaging, condescending prick. Maybe you want your parents to believe this is the right course without asking you a lot of questions. Maybe you want your best friend to understand just how deeply hurt you are by this whole stupid situation. Figure out what, in your heart of hearts, you want them to come away with. Then figure out if that’s both reasonable and possible and plan from there.
• How close are you with this person? How much detail are they entitled to? How much detail are you comfortable sharing? The friends who had lived through my struggles already got the down and dirty. The colleagues I mostly said hello to in the halls got the abbreviated “opportunity” version of the story.
• What’s their relationship to academia? People inside academia are going to be more defensive about the whole glorious system than people outside it, however much they love and care about you. If it’s still paying their bills, they have a vested interest in believing it’s not a horrible place — even if you think it’s the most venal institution to grace the face of the Earth.
• What version of the truth should they get? We leave for complicated reasons, and few people will really get the whole story. Should they have the version that focuses on the opportunities you’re moving towards? Should they have the version that focuses on realizing that you and academia aren’t destined for the life-long love affair you thought you had? Should they have the version that explains how academia left you at the altar or stole your boyfriend or beat you up in a dark alley after stealing a decade and all your money? Stick to the truth, but remember that the truth is multifaceted.
• How do you want this conversation to come about? Where should it take place? When should it take place? Should you plan a date, or take advantage of circumstances? Should you phone, email, or explain in person? Some conversations, like the one you’ll have to have with your chair, may have to be in person. Others might benefit from an email-first-then-talk strategy.
• What do you need for self-care around this conversation? For particularly difficult ones, you might want to have a confidant waiting in the wings to help you process it, you might want to be alone with your journal, you might want to go out for ice cream to celebrate. Knowing that you’re being taken care of will help you keep going.
• What reminders will help you keep your center? Unfortunately, we don’t usually get to get to the other side of the emotions before we have to explain what we’re doing. And that means figuring out what you need to hold on to to be confident of your decision. For some people, writing down the real reasons for leaving on an index card to carry around will help them remember. Some people need a favorite figurine or the perfect sweater or a piece of jewelry that helps them stay connected to their centers. I had a Scully doll. To each her own.

Then, you practice

So much of deciding to leave is emotional and therefore not entirely able to be articulated. Except that, unfortunately, you have to articulate it. That’s where practicing comes in. If you have a supportive spouse or partner or friend, ask for their help. If not, an empty room will do.

• Remember how we were all supposed to have the 30-second, 2-minute, or 5-minute description of our research for the job market? Practice having the 30-second, 2-minute, or 5-minute explanation of why you’re leaving. Repeat them out loud until they feel fluent.
• Brainstorm what the other person might say and how you might respond. Will they be shocked? Angry? Sad? Nervous? Elated? Do they tend to be critical? Supportive? Sarcastic? Withdrawn?
• Notice what you’re comfortable sharing and what you aren’t comfortable sharing. Stay with comfortable.
• Notice what parts of the explanation feel most emotional for you and brainstorm ways to deal with that, whether it’s letting yourself express the emotion or finding ways to avoid the topic altogether.

Then, you let it go

The unfortunate truth of the matter is that you won’t be able to anticipate every eventuality and you won’t be able to control how any other person responds or reacts. But thinking about what you want to accomplish and how that might happen gives you much better odds of getting through conversations without falling apart — or doubting what you’re doing.

And, as always, remember that this is hard work and that you’re likely to be a little delicate. Be gentle with yourself. Remember that it’s okay to fall apart. It’s okay to need help and hand-holding and hugs. It’s okay to be nervous and anxious about explaining this enormous decision to the rest of the world. And remember that, soon enough, you’ll get to the other side.

I spent an hour the other day trying to convince a young colleague of mine not to go to graduate school. Well, let me rephrase that. I told him that if what he wanted was the experience of graduate school on its own, [...]]]> You can dress me up but you can’t take me anywhere, apparently.

I spent an hour the other day trying to convince a young colleague of mine not to go to graduate school. Well, let me rephrase that. I told him that if what he wanted was the experience of graduate school on its own, well, that’s all well and good. Graduate school is pretty much awesome if you’re a self-starter who can handle living on pennies. If he thought it would lead to a job, though — run away! Right now!

But by the end of the conversation I couldn’t tell him to go to graduate school for the experience, either, because why take on tens of thousands of dollars of debt and lost wages and blah blah blah when you could find a couple of like-minded people, a nice neighborhood pub, and read all the continental philosophy you want while hollering about holes in your friends’ arguments?

What would you tell him? He’s young (24 maybe?), really smart in that perfect-for-graduate-school-in-philosophy way, and thinks he’d like teaching. Inquiring minds really want to know.

CVs are about nouns — they’re about the slow accumulation of proven expertise and [...]]]> If you’ve been in academia for any length of time, you’ve got a CV. Conference presentations, publications, teaching assignments, every school you’ve ever attended — if it’s happened since you graduated from college, I’m going to bet it’s in there somewhere.

CVs are about nouns — they’re about the slow accumulation of proven expertise and experience, and the overall length of the CV tells the reader something. The purpose of a CV, after all, is to demonstrate to other people within your academic discipline how well you fit into the professional fold.

But resumes are not about nouns. Resumes are about verbs.

Resumes are about verbs because you rarely write resumes for people who share your background, your professional assumptions, or your aspirations. Resumes are about verbs because they’re intended to persuade the reader that you have skills that are relevant to the job at hand.

In other words, a resume is less an accumulation of everything you’ve produced and more a conglomeration of everything you’ve made happen.

Maybe you once organized a conference. In a CV, that’s demonstrating service and a commitment to the field. In a resume, that same experience could demonstrate your ability to plan events, to multitask, to communicate between different constituencies, or to lead. Same experience, but very different arguments.

At the end of the day, your resume, which may be different for different positions, should make a case for how well your skills and experience meet the needs of the job you’re applying for. It’s going to be much shorter than your CV, and it’s going to leave out much of what’s on your CV. But it should frame and highlight all of the experience that makes you a perfect fit for this new position.