My career was not something I consciously chose. How can you, when you have no idea who you are? How can you choose what work to do that will suit your personality, if your personality is, for the most part, stuck at the age of seven?
During our teenage years we are being pressured into choosing what path to take. Choruses of, “what do you want to do”, or a song from the closely related, second album, “what do you want to be?”, are on repeat, played over and over again.
I went through a phase of wanting to be a solicitor, and then I remember thinking that I wanted to have my own business, so that I could treat others as I would like to be treated. I think this notion happened once I started working. It would have been my first insight into how unjust the world of employment was. The bad pay, taxed without ever being asked or agreeing to it, bad holidays, and lack of notice of your shift pattern, meaning you couldn’t plan your life too far ahead. Why do we tolerate it? And now there’s zero hours contracts, bullshit minimum wages decided by people who would never dream of working for the minimum wage, and conditions that I can’t even imagine having to tolerate - like peeing in bottles because you can’t get a proper toilet break.
When I turned sixteen, I didn’t get the chance to look for or choose, or apply for my first part-time job. It was bestowed upon me by someone else, who was so keen for me to get work that they did the work for me. Maybe they thought they were doing me a favour. But what they actually did was rob me of the chance to make my own decision, to do my own searching and to think about what I wanted. I was too much of a people pleasing, conditioned little girl to push back and say that this was my life, and I would choose. I would no doubt have been called ungrateful, something I heard many times as a teenager.
I was supposed to go to university in the Scottish Borders to study a degree in textiles with marketing. I’m not even sure why I chose to do this. I think I thought of myself as an arty type - I wasn’t.
As the time to pack up for university got closer, I remember being nervous about leaving home. My Granda (I lived with him, my nannie and my mum when I was born until my mum got married when I was ten, so we were close) was ill with cancer and I told myself I didn’t want to go because of him. However, it was most likely because I was scared. My mum didn’t encourage me to go either, which was perhaps not the most supportive decision.
I ended up scrambling around to find another option. To cut a longer story short, I did a one-year course that I was terrible at, and then went on to do a two year course at college. After that, I decided I wanted to start earning and got a full-time job in a call centre. So all in all, a bit haphazard, and not a great start to a fruitful career.
That little tale alone shows how lost I was. If I’d known myself better, if I’d had a better level of emotional intelligence, I’d have had a better idea of what route I wanted to take, or at least been able to make a more conscious choice. Maybe if I’d gone away to uni, I’d have grown up quicker.
I will never truly know the answer.
It’s very difficult to know what you want, when you don’t know who you are.
Skip forward a few years, to my early twenties, to the beginning of my marketing career. Career. Is it a coincidence that it’s the same word that’s used for veering out of control? It was a career that was more like an out of control driver-less vehicle than an expertly driven sports car.
I’d gone back to university to get my marketing degree - a decision that was influenced by my boyfriend at the time (relevant as it wasn’t purely my decision…again), and I got third year entry, so I only had to do two years to get an Honours Degree. I graduated, did a year abroad as a holiday rep (completely my decision as I’d been ditched by the afore mentioned boyfriend and wanted to get away - go me!), came back, and got my first real job with a big national charity.
This first marketing role provides a perfect little anecdote that illustrates the launch of my low EQ career.
I was 23 - chronological age. The job was perfect for that time in my life. It was local to where I lived, had a decent starting salary, good terms and conditions, and company car, but it was only temporary for a year. During that year, the role was going to be made permanent, and I was invited to apply for it. Which I did. At the same time as the interview, there was a devastating, and unexpected death in the family. So, needless to say, I probably wasn’t at my best performance at the interview.
I was offered the permanent role by my manager but not without a critique of my interview. She told me that she couldn’t believe I had answered a particular question the way I did, as she knew I could have done it better.
Now. To anyone reading this, and to me now, it was probably a fair comment. However, having a low EQ at chronological age 23, meant that her constructive feedback wasn’t taken very well. Instead of having the emotional maturity to speak to her about being disappointed with her need to critique knowing what had happened, I threw my toys out the pram, and decided I didn’t want to work for this woman.
The upshot was that I started looking for a new job, and moved on to another marketing role that was much further away from my home, no company car, and no room for progression. Good move jaxx. Good move.
This was the beginning of a pattern that will become evident as I tell you more about how low EQ showed up in my career…
If you resonate, or if you know a young person in your life who might be showing signs of emotional immaturity, please take steps to get some help from a qualified therapist, or check out the resources below that have helped me.
To your peace and prosperity.
jaxx x
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