If you hold a lauded job title or a coveted position of prestige, there’s a certain smug satisfaction in answering the question, “So, what do you do?” It’s a subtle flex, a way to signal you’ve “made it” in the eyes of your listener.
But how quickly those titles lose their shine. Positions are demoted, job descriptions rewritten, and reputations shift depending entirely on the values and prejudices of the crowd around you.
Consider the plumber who proudly tells his wife’s academic friends that he owns his own business. Their admiration evaporates the moment they realize he’s a tradesman. Or his wife, who announces at his company picnic that she’s accepted a university teaching position, only to have his employees quietly roll their eyes at her “ivory tower” job.
Prestige, it turns out, is not universal and rather fickle.
Perhaps when I mention that my full-time job is as a therapist, you’re impressed. Or perhaps you think, Oh, that’s nice, but why didn’t she get a doctorate? Or maybe you shrug, completely unmoved.
Our identities are often tied to our titles and achievements. And it’s not entirely irrational—after all, our accomplishments are a kind of social currency. They determine whether we’re welcomed into certain groups or quietly excluded. They tell others, at least superficially, our “value” as a person.
The trouble begins when that’s the only place our sense of worth comes from.
Achievements fade. Their novelty wears off. You ran a marathon…..ten years ago. You climbed to the base camp of Everest, great, but that was so last season. You earned $90,000 last year, until someone else mentions they earned $100,000.
When your worth is pegged to being ahead of the curve, you’re doomed to chase the next thing endlessly and there’s always someone ahead of you. Even those on top must always try to stay ahead of the people nipping at their heels.
It’s the comparison trap in action:
- Stacey got married.
- Joanna bought a house.
- Darlene is having a baby next month.
- Marcy is off to Japan.
And you? You got a promotion, but you’re still single, renting, and aware of a ticking biological clock. Suddenly, your win doesn’t feel like much of a win.
But why should our worth be determined by what we’ve done instead of who we are?
Yes, I am a therapist, but that’s not all I am.
I am a daughter, a sister, a girlfriend, a cat mom, and a loyal friend. I am an avid reader who likes to snuggle into blankets and a seeker of adventure itching to explore. I adore tea and classical music. However, I also love coffee and metal. I’m not much into mainstream sports, but I do enjoy horses, kayaking, dancing, and hiking. I play the violin and videogames. I can be sarcastic and biting, yet equally capable of deep compassion and empathy. I’m a bit of a perfectionist and a bit of a mess.
I am nuanced and complex.
My degrees, my travels, my career, they’ve shaped me, yes. But they are not me.
Some cultures have already figured this out. In many parts of the world, “What do you do?” is not the opening line of a conversation.
In the Netherlands, it’s considered downright rude to lead with your job title. People there would much rather discuss shared interests than compare résumés. In France, introductions often revolve around passions, ideas, and experiences. The goal is to find connection, not establish a pecking order.
Imagine how different our relationships might feel if we borrowed that approach.
A Thought to Leave You With:
If your job disappeared tomorrow, if your title, salary, and résumé vanished, what would you still have to say for yourself?
Because that answer… is who you truly are and it’s an answer worth exploring.
Budget Bliss: Bucket List 