On March 13th, 2020, I was practicing a hula dance when the pandemic first hit home for me.
Each spring, students at the university I’d worked at put on a lavish luau to celebrate the food and culture of the Hawaiian Islands. The program regularly featured faculty and staff from across the campus performing a carefully choreographed hula dance they had diligently – if not skillfully – rehearsed. With zero experience and even less ability, but with much enthusiasm, this event would have marked my illustrious debut.
But Covid changed all that. The luau was one of the final public events the university called off. It had already scratched athletic contests and cut short theater productions. The decision to cancel the luau was made at the last minute and with much regret, in recognition of all the hard work that had gone into its elaborate preparations. But it was just too big of a risk in the middle of a viral outbreak.
Then the entire campus shut down. All instruction went online. All non-essential employees – including me – were sent to work from home. The remainder of the school year passed both more quickly and more slowly in this new state of suspended animation. With everything now uncertain, including the university’s very existence, everyone was holding their breath to see what would happen next.
Of course you already know, dear reader, what happened next for me – the title gives it away. Coronavirus had shot a seven million dollar hole in the university’s budget. Mine was one of 20 positions across the campus that were permanently eliminated to stanch the flow of red ink on its books. Mine was one of millions of jobs across our economy that were wiped out by a pathogen. Something inconceivably big, swallowed up by something invisibly, infinitesimally small.
I loved my job, and by all accounts I was pretty good at it. I got paid to learn, to help others learn, and to help others help others learn. It was indeed my dream job.
It had taken me a while to get to that point in my career. Like Goldilocks, I’d tried a few other related roles that weren’t quite the right fit for me. But I’d needed those other roles, and the experiences that came with them, to prepare me for it. All my background seemed to have been leading me to, and growing me into, this one that was ‘just right.’ If it had been up to me, it would’ve been my forever job.
So….Um, yeah.
Ironically, I’d been teaching a course on Career Exploration during the campus shutdown. I’d led my students through a book called Designing Your Life. Now I’m trying to apply its lessons myself.
The principles of design thinking that the book presents include: Be curious. Try stuff. Reframe problems. Know it’s a process. Ask for help. It includes a lot of exercises for reflection and exploration. I’ve been doing some writing. I started this blog. I am reaching out to others. I am finding my way.
What do you do when your dream job disappears overnight? I don’t have the answer to that. Yet. I’m still trying to figure out what that looks like for me. I’m still willing to try. Because that’s the human spirit, isn’t it? I still have dreams. Get busy living, or get busy dying, right?
What would you do? What did you do? What are you doing or hope/plan to do? I’d love to hear from you. Leave a reply in the Comment box below.
7 replies on “Covid killed my dream job. It can’t kill my dreams.”
“Get busy living, or get busy dying” is something I’ve often said to myself and others. But it’s been easy to say when all of my basic needs have been met. I think of Maslow‘s hierarchy of needs and the base of his pyramid that includes well, the basics: food, shelter, resources.
What would I do? I think I would panic. At least that would be my first reaction. But then, I’d like to believe that I would do what I usually do. I would say to myself, “Just work the problem, Dave“. I would then likely scramble to create a strategy and to find the tools and the relationships that could help me rebuild. Once I had the base of my “pyramid” rebuilt along with some form of income stream, I hope that I would do a good bit of reflection and potentially seize the opportunity to change course and try new things.
I’d also grieve. Back in 1995, I had to rebuild my life and do some grieving. A wise friend of mine encouraged me to give myself 20-30 minutes each day to feel my feelings. But then to dry my tears and get back to the reconstruction. That was such sage advice!
I grieved, I changed direction, and have loved my new life for the past 25 years!
You’ve got this, Martin!
Professor Hughes Im so sorry you were let go. Covid sucks!
Thinking back to career explorations, I remember when you talked about the pivots you experienced early on in your work history. I was actually surprised to learn that. I appreciate that you shared that with the class and expressed to us that it is okay to pivot sometimes. In class hearing you talk about your bumpy path made me feel at ease. I have had some major downs in my life and have felt like a fish out of water when placed around seemingly perfect people. You being vulnerable was refreshing.
I am a firm believer that struggles make us smarter and stronger in the end. They also make us more human and relatable. We are meant to experience adversity and obstacles, so that when we make it through we can then share our stories of hope with others. I can’t wait to hear what story of hope comes out of this giant virus in the road. Where will you pivot to next?
Thank you for your support and encouragement, Amy. I share your beliefs about how we learn and grow and strengthen through adversity. I’m in the midst of yet another pivot with this blog and my employment situation, both of which I hope to share more of going forward.
Dave, I admire your centeredness that comes from self-knowledge. Sometimes we surprise ourselves by how calm and resourceful we can be amidst a crisis. I also appreciate how you gave yourself permission to feel your feelings instead of suppressing or feeling overwhelmed by them. You’re a role model!
This post was very relevant to my situation, in terms of trying to reframe and redirect. I would love to know more about the points you put in boldface type, and how you (and others) have managed to actually follow through with them.
This was a good observation, cleverly phrased: Something inconceivably big, swallowed up by something invisibly, infinitesimally small.
Thank you for this entry. More! More!
Thank you for sharing, Jeff. I hope to bring a ‘book club’ feature to the blog soon, so stay tuned!
You know I honestly don’t know for certain. I have always been driven by security as far as my job choices go. And I have deliberately chosen a field that always has need of some kind. But if I lost everything I might just try becoming a life coach because I love with my Wife is Doing With her life. It would be really neat just to listen and inspire people all the time. That being said I think it would be possible to follow you into the land that you weren’t. But interestingly enough I would want to follow you, I would want to follow someone. I do not know if I could lead my own way. And this is why I admire you so.