Before my interview for this new job last Thursday, I told Jeff that there was maybe a 30% chance I’d take it if they offered it, even if they came up and offered me the number I asked for.
And then I went to the interview. I met three really nice people, who talked to me about flexibility and leaving work at work. And when I left, I thought, I think I really want this job.
Actually, no, I didn’t think that – it was a feeling more than a thought. Whenever my mind got involved, it got all caught up in the back and forth between the security of the regular hours, the 11 mile commute, the flexibility… and the fact that I’d be making less than half of what I make as a freelancer.
But my heart is the one that made the choice. Not only does this job provide me security with the knowledge that I’d have regular hours, but it also means I could focus more on my family… and the things that are important to me.
And my heart whispered, This could be our accounting exit strategy.
So when they offered me the position earlier this week, I decided to accept it.
In November 2004, right after Jeff and I got married, I went to a party at a former coworker’s house. She had hired a psychic to come to the party and do half hour consults with all of us, we just had to send her our date and time of birth and location where we were born, and then we’d meet with her.
It was my first experience with a psychic. I found her kind of odd. But she did seem to know a lot about me – stuff that a normal person wouldn’t know.
She essentially told us that we were infertile, though that became clear in hindsight. We were planning on starting to try for a baby in the new year, though I didn’t tell her this. When I asked about kids, she told me that she didn’t see kids in our future for a while. I remember thinking, Little does SHE know!
But as it turned out, we didn’t have kids for a while. Owen was born 3 and a half years later, after a lot of doctors and treatments and heartbreak.
She also told me that, career-wise, I wasn’t going to be doing what I was doing forever. You’ll find a new career when you’re 45, maybe. And when you do, you won’t have to worry about money.
Every two years I have to renew my CPA license. It requires that I do 80 hours of CPEs, which costs me $250 for online access, and I pay the board of accountancy $165.
The past two times I’ve renewed, I’ve done so with a hope. Maybe this will be the last time I have to do this.
Every time I say that out loud to someone, though, they look at me like I’m crazy. You worked so hard to get that – why would you let it lapse? Easier to keep the license up than to get it reinstated.
Here’s the thing: accounting was a choice at a point in my life where I wanted the security of never having to worry about finding a job. It’s been good to me – in the past 13 years, I’ve never HAD to worry about finding a job.
But whenever someone asks me what I do, and I answer I work as an accountant, and they inevitably make their judgment about me (good at math, OCD, organized, boring)… the part of me who wrote poetry in math class because she hated it so much, who translated Latin in the library in college, who devoured books when they came out, who spent her first transatlantic flight absorbed in a short story she was writing, cries out in despair.
I want so much more from my life. SO much more from my job.
So this new job – even though it’s still accounting – is a change. A good change: I can carve boundaries around it – it’s the first job in the past 13 years which will actually stay at work when I leave. It gives me more time at home, to focus on the things that are important to me.
I feel like, in navigating the course of my life, this job represents a change of a degree or two.
But still… I am turning more towards my true north. And it makes my heart really, really hopeful.