I grew up with three quite different ideas about work. All of them made sense. They did not, however, fit neatly together.
My mom worked in commercial auto leasing for more than thirty years. Work supported a life: family, time together, things to look forward to. She cared about doing her job, but she also understood that a job could occupy a sensible amount of space and then stop.
My dad worked in commercial real estate, eventually running his own business. From him I absorbed the importance of independence, being careful with money, and having skills you could take with you. Security required some effort. It was probably wise to have a plan.
My stepdad was a machinist and union organizer. He understood work as something physical, useful, and deserving of respect. Workers should be able to have good lives. At home, there was always something that needed doing, and he was very good at noticing it. As a teenager, I found this particular talent less endearing.
Three instructions, all at once
Make room for a life outside work. Be prepared for uncertainty. Don’t sit around when there’s something to do.
Somewhere in there was also the question of what I wanted to make.
I studied painting. I considered becoming a librarian or working with art collections. Around the economic crash, I needed a job, and a small skincare business gave me one. I wrote copy, worked on the website, helped merchandise products, and enthusiastically tested things. It was a practical education with very good moisturizer.
At Ulta Beauty, I kept moving toward work I was curious about: content, customer reviews and Q&A, UX design, research, experimentation, and eventually leading digital optimization. Much of that education came from other people. Someone would help me see a problem differently. We would try something, learn from it, and have a better question the next time.
The people mattered enormously. Early leaders helped create a team where kindness and respect were part of everyday working life. I remember that as clearly as I remember the projects.
What counts as work?
I’m taking a break from paid work now to parent my young children. There is plenty to do. My stepdad would be relieved.
But I’m also writing, making books, and building little systems that help me keep track of a life with a lot of moving parts. I still like noticing friction and figuring out how to make something easier. That interest seems quite capable of continuing without a job title.
Looking back at an essay I wrote about the messages I inherited, I can see how much of each person I carry. I want the life outside work my mom protected. I value the independence my dad worked for. I believe, as my stepdad did, that people deserve dignity and a good life from their labor.
I’m also getting more comfortable deciding which work is worth my time. Being busy has never been the same thing as making something useful, although it can be surprisingly convincing in the moment.
If I return to a workplace, I want interesting problems, room to make things, and people who enjoy one another as whole people. People I can learn from and laugh with. Kindness is one of the criteria.
I don’t need my career to become a straight line in retrospect. I’m glad it took me places I didn’t know to aim for.
