What Do You Do?

We’ve all been there. 

At a party, a dinner, or any get together with people you don’t know. Once names are out of the way, the first question that gets asked, almost automatically, is this:

“So, what do you do?”

For many people, there is an easy, habitual answer to this question. “I am a software engineer for a tech company here in the city.” Or “I’m getting my Master’s degree in psychology at the university.” Or “I teach second grade at the local public school.”

Or in my case up until 2019, “I manage the investments for a very wealthy family in Chicago.”

I loved my answer. I felt smart, I felt important. Friends, family and strangers didn’t just approve, they were impressed. I was also a CFP^®, Certified Financial Planner. I had letters after my name and you better believe I showed them off any chance I got. 

Things changed when I turned 29 and quit my job. I’d had enough. After years of following the core principles of this blog, spending much less than you earn and investing the surplus wisely, I had built a solid financial foundation that gave me the freedom to step away and explore what I actually wanted out of life. 

Away from the performance reviews, the fixed amount of sick days, the (hopefully) yearly raises, and the psychological safety net of being something in the working world. I also eventually made the difficult decision not to renew (and continuously pay the fees for) my CFP^® designation.

It felt freeing at first, but it was much harder emotionally than I anticipated. I hadn’t realized just how deeply my identity was tied to my job. The impressive identifiers were now stripped away. I was no longer Dustin W. Stern, CFP^®, Investment Analyst. 

I was now simply Dustin Stern. Who the hell was that?

Losing my identity

Without that title, I have struggled for years to confidently meet new people. In fact, I have often dreaded it. I feel like an alien sometimes.

These days, the question “What do you do?” isn’t so easy to answer. The previous me could answer it without thinking. Now? It feels more like, “So tell me, what is your contribution to society?” 

I don’t fit into a neatly curated box anymore. I don’t have that slick impressive answer to how I spend my time. I wish people would stop asking, but that’s not how the world works. 

The reason I am writing this is not to vent to you. It’s because I am learning two important lessons that I’d like to share. I wish someone had told me this earlier. 

1. It’s your life and you can answer that question however the hell you want. 

You don’t need to impress anyone. In fact, you’ll likely be far more memorable if you say something that has nothing to do with work. 

You could describe interests or hobbies you like. For example: “I’m a big fan of volleyball and I’ve been enjoying playing on summer nights.” Or “I just got into skateboarding or paint by numbers or I’m getting back into running after about 10 years away.”

You can be vulnerable with confidence: “I’m discovering the joys of napping, I can’t believe I went this long without them.” “I’m in therapy and it’s been scary but also helpful”. “I’m learning how to be more present in my life, damn it’s hard!”

Or you can get goofy with it: “I rob banks for a living. I know I should stop, I just can’t give up the rush.” “I’m training to be a hot dog eating champion like my father before me.” “It’s top secret, so you cannot tell a single soul, can I trust you with that?”

I’ve realized that most people don’t love talking about their jobs to strangers, and most people don’t love hearing about other people’s jobs. Can you see how these different responses invite a better, richer conversation and possible connection? 

To be honest I haven’t used any goofy responses before but I’ll tell you what: I’ll try it if you do. Let’s take life a little less seriously sometimes. I could use it. 

2. As human beings, we are so much more than what we happen to do for work. 

Despite what society has told us, our self-worth does not need to be tied to our jobs, or how good we are at them. 

It is just as important (if not more so) how we view the world, how we treat the people in our lives, what our interests are in the vast world outside of work, and even the challenges we face. These things may not be as tangible, but they matter.

Even beyond that, we simply are. We exist on a planet with billions of other humans and we get our brief turn here after millions of years of ancestors before us. Some people will get us, most people won’t, and that’s okay. It’s always been that way. 

Whether you love your job or are still trying to figure it all out, your worth is not tied to your job title or even employment status. So let’s not get too emotionally invested in them and what they mean about us.

Taking what I’ve learned

I am hoping to go back to working at some point, but in a much more intentional way. Sure, I may have an easier time telling people what I do, but I’ve learned too much to believe that it somehow defines who I am. 

Jobs come and go. But who you are? It can’t fit in a LinkedIn profile. 

No matter where we are in life, we deserve to protect our self-worth. And when the next person asks “what do you do?”, we can smile inside because it just doesn’t matter as much anymore.