Welcome to Sentivia

Okay, let me tell you a bit about myself. My name is Simone, and I'm a labor journalist. But that's not the *only* thing I am, and I think that's really important. I wrote a book called "The Good Enough Job," where I explored the complicated relationship many of us have with our work and our identity. It started from observing a pretty universal trend, we all ask what someone does for a job, and many use their career to define themselves.

You know, I've always been fascinated by how much emphasis our society places on work, especially in the US. It's like, the first question we ask someone we just met is, "What do you do?" And it's so ingrained in us, starting from when we're kids being asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" We immediately link our jobs with who we *are*, and in many ways, we're taught to believe they're one and the same. It's kind of crazy when you think about it. I was once talking to this Chilean guy, and when I asked him what he did he responded as if I asked him the color of his underwear and that’s when the idea of questioning this connection really took hold of me.

Before I was a professional writer and the author of this book, I was a 22-year-old poetry student, desperately trying to figure out my own path. I actually got to interview one of my favorite poets, Anis Moani, around that time. I asked him what he thought about the "do what you love and never work a day in your life" mantra. And he said something that really stuck with me; he basically said that some people do what they love for work, while others do what they need to so that they can do what they love when they’re not working, and neither was more noble. That really hit home for me, because I realized he was right, there is no one way to be successful or define a purpose. It's okay to have a "day job" that allows you to pursue other passions.

Look, I'm not saying there's anything inherently wrong with doing what you love for work. I mean, we spend so much of our lives working, and how we spend those hours *does* matter. But our current relationship with work, the way we center it in our lives, it's not working for many of us. The fact that almost half of workers globally are burnt out – and probably even more than half in this room right now – is really telling. And what's more, we don't seem to be addressing the core of that issue. It's like we're trying to fight off the sun with a small cocktail umbrella. A week of vacation or practicing self-care is important, but they are a temporary bandage, it won’t fix what ails you in the long term.

If we really want to change our relationship with work, we have to dig deeper into understanding our own identities. What we do is just one part of who we are, not the entire picture. We're parents, friends, citizens, artists, travelers, neighbors – all of these things. Just like an investor would benefit from having stocks in different industries, we need to diversify the sources of meaning in our lives. We need to be more than just our jobs.

So how do we go about doing this? I love how Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel describes Shabbat, the weekly Jewish practice of abstaining from work. He calls it a “sanctuary in time,” not a physical space, but a time carved out from the working world. The first thing we need to do is create our own time sanctuaries. We need to put those boundaries in our life and in our schedule. It's not just about *intending* to work less, it’s about having the infrastructure in place to make that happen. This could mean blocking out time to learn a new language, turning off our phone when we're with our kids, so that work doesn't take over all the empty space in our lives.

The second thing is to fill those time sanctuaries with things that help us reinforce those other identities that we hope to cultivate, whether it’s a present parent, a community gardener, or an amateur musician. It might sound simple, but if we want to find meaning in the things outside of work, we need to do things *other* than work. And no, it doesn’t have to be grand gestures. Some of the people I spoke to in my book who had this “diversify” mentality, were turning their leisure into labor by saying “I will read 52 books this year,” and they were turning it into another obligation. Just start small, like having a weekly walk with your best friend, or practicing the piano for 10 minutes after dinner. Just try to do something you like doing.

Finally, it's important to reinforce these identities by joining communities that don't really care about what we do for a living. For example, I love playing pickup basketball. The guys I play with don't care about the number of books I’ve sold, they just want me to show up and play hard and be a good teammate. It’s a reminder that there is so much more to my existence than producing an economic value.

The funny thing is, that when we diversify our identities, we are also doing ourselves a professional service. Research shows that people with diverse interests and hobbies are more creative problem solvers and more innovative. Plus, they are less likely to burn out. And a diverse identity can also come in handy when we are facing hard times, like recessions or layoffs. I spoke to many people for my book who treated their work like a family and then were let go during the pandemic. And if you are your work and you lose that job, who are you?

Besides all of the practical reasons to look beyond work, there’s also a moral obligation. If we want to build well-rounded versions of ourselves, and if we want to build robust relationships, robust communities, and a robust society, we all have to invest in aspects of our lives that are not just about work. We shouldn’t just work less because it makes us better workers. We should work less because it makes us better people. And ultimately, it makes the world a better place.

This isn't just about us either. It's about teaching our kids that their self-worth isn’t defined by their job title, that the hard work we do does not always need to be on a resume. We need to set the example that all of us have the responsibility to contribute to the world in ways that extend beyond one company's bottom line.

So next time you're at a party instead of asking someone, "What do you do?" try adding a few words. Instead, ask, "What do you *like* to do?" Maybe they love to cook, or write, or whatever it is. Maybe they do some of those things for a living, or maybe they don't. But asking "what do you like to do?" gives us an opportunity to define ourselves on our own terms, instead of letting our job be the primary thing that defines us.

Thank you.