‘Cool jobs’ are overrated – I learned the hard way

About seven months into my new job, I have my response to any enquiries down pat. Instead of going into the minutiae of my work life which, honestly, no one wants to hear about, I just say “it’s great – a proper grown-up job. I’m really normal there.”

They laugh, but know exactly what I mean. It’s a largely office-based job with a standard 9-6pm hours, clear hierarchy, and functioning HR system. No pool table, bean bags, or overfamiliar CEO. Definitely no reference to the company being a “family”. And it’s the direct opposite to what many people my generation (I’m 31, thank you) thought they’d want.

And it’s not just people my age thinking this way: a recent survey of Gen Z-ers found jobs in the civil service and healthcare are currently more sought-after among young people than careers at whizzy tech companies, which represents a real shift.

A run-of-the-mill job where you clock in and out had long been depicted as a banal slog. Before I entered the workplace I had a clear idea of what a job would be: I watched The Office (UK) and The IT Crowd; read my fair share of dystopian work-based fiction; knew I wanted something more creative than following in my parent’s path of lawyer or accountant (sorry mum, dad).

It seemed like unless you sought it out, an office job where you enjoyed your work and your colleagues, and were even a bit creative, was the rarity.

Joining the workforce in the mid-2010s did nothing to disabuse me of that idea. It was a time when co-working spaces like WeWork were thriving (now, of course, grisly details have emerged of out-of-control management, multimillion dollar excesses, drug-fuelled parties and a boss with a Messiah complex). Meanwhile, the success of many Silicon Valley companies was attributed to their “outside-the-box” thinking. No strict dress code, a surplus of in-office baristas and lack of formal desk space were pitched as the reason behind profitability. These “perks” became lures to attract talent, particularly in the creative industries, where the rejection of formula was part of the appeal.

These workplaces had a strong allure, promising work you cared about with people who cared about you. It made companies that rejected “traditions” enticing, with normie jobs too old-fashioned and fusty for a wide-eyed twenty-something who wanted to change the world.

Like a cartoon bear drawn to a pie cooling on a window, I sought out jobs and career paths that would steer me clear of a “normie job”. I worked for upstart marketing agencies, sincere ethical fashion brands, independent cafes and digital media companies that promised to shake things up and somehow always lacked an HR department or any clear career progression. There was something I loved in each of these jobs but there were problems too. I was often unhappy for reasons I couldn’t identify, and always looking to the horizon for the next step that would change things.

It turned out the solution was what I thought I didn’t want. A job where I go in, make some small talk, do good work and go home. No edible perks, no trauma bonding, no half-days lost to drinking or emails from the c suite waxing lyrical about how special and different the company was. Just a satisfying job.

The problem with workspaces that pride themselves on being different, open and creative is that they will lack the essential structure that keeps workers well. Hierarchies are blurred and confused; there’s often no recourse for any bad actors; and it’s easy to lose sight of the fact the sole purpose should be to work.

It is much easier now to click into focus, get done what needs doing, and then click out at the end of the day. It was infinitely harder in less structured environments where you are friends first. I’d often find myself hovering in that liminal stress space of switching between tabs, where you’re unwilling to join in the conversation because you know you should work and unable to get your brain in gear.

It’s also hard to avoid the scarcity mindset in those environments. Because these sorts of workspaces are pitched as an alternative to the majority, you feel privileged to be there. It’s meant to be a great compliment that you are one of the rarified few to be on staff and so treating it as work feels frowned upon. If you didn’t take part in the non-work aspects of the job there was a real chance that you’d miss out on opportunities that had no other path for progress. So you better join in.

It wasn’t necessarily explicit, but what I think really defines these jobs is the feeling that you must give yourself wholly to the job. Whether that is living up to its reputation or setting yourself apart from it. And that is only compounded if you are marginalised, as the company will inevitably want to centre their diverse workforce to draw in other hires.

When I say “I’m normal here”, what I mean is that I’m a colleague first and foremost. I’m not in the odd position of having to reveal my past traumas to my colleagues for the sake of “unconscious bias” training, or spending so much time at work they know every intimacy of my life. Who I am outside of work is a distinct entity, and all the quirks and oddities revealed in intimate friendships aren’t lurking under day-to-day formalities.

This is not, I must add, to lambast my prior workplaces. It’s something that so many friends and I have recognised in the workplaces we were drawn to in our twenties. And through those jobs I made friends and learned lessons that I couldn’t imagine my life without now. Nor is it to say my current job is boring (and that’s not just because my employer will likely read this). Working for a newspaper is a hugely varied and engaging role, and my particular beat has plenty of room for the silly side of life.

But my greatest takeaway that the zeitgeist-y atmosphere of a company is not what makes work fulfilling. The best thing that you get out of a job should not be the friends you trauma-bond with, or the complimentary bagels on Friday mornings, but that it engages you when you’re on, and leaves you alone when you’re off.

Those additions that supposedly elevate the job mean nothing if it’s at the cost of a robust structure or culture. When the world goes sideways it is the workers who most keenly feel its absence. And the world always goes sideways.

The WeWorks of the world have undergone their own backlash in recent years, and the scales are falling from the eyes of more and more workers. All people want is a safe environment, which allows you to pay your rent and gives you the satisfaction that comes from work you’re proud of. I can highly recommend it.