By Milly Cooke

You’re at a party. There are sparkly people all around, you’ve had a couple of Kronenbergs, and you’re feeling happily floaty. Then someone you vaguely know from some time ago interrupts you mid-sip: ‘Hey! It’s great to see you. So, what do you do nowadays?’ The floaty feeling becomes heavy, the happy feeling is lost and the sparkly crowd is dull and distant.

This question has become part and parcel of our everyday language. It has made its way into our drop-down menu of questions for social interactions, including, but not limited to, ‘How are you?,’ ‘How are your parents?,’ ‘Did you have a nice weekend?,’ and, ‘Do you want a drink?’. The aching question of what we do to earn money has, by some interesting turn of capitalistic events, disguised itself as nonchalant and unflinching as the rest in our questioning remit.

Camouflaged as it may be this question carries a heavy burden to those submitted to it. There seems to be an age (I've found it to be around the twenty mark) when questions pertaining to jobs and careers bubble to the surface of most conversations. Whether it’s your best friends, the guy at the petrol station or the grandmother of the boy you went out with for a day when you were seven, people are desperate to know what we are doing to financially survive. But why?

Due to the increasing societal pressure to build a career, the staggering cost-of-living crisis, all-consuming job market issues and a backlog of pandemic-related problems, Gen-Zers and millennials are bearing the brunt of this difficult conversation. It seems difficult, née impossible, to engage in discussion without referring to career talk in some way. Money, the ways in which we earn it, what we do with it and how much the government is taking from us is more pivotal than ever within the fabric of society.

It has overtaken conversations about our passion projects, our hopes and dreams and even our daily interests. I consider it vital to reframe these questions and conversations of work and pay to discussions of hobbies and goals. By taking the monetary aspect out of work-driven talk, we will find ourselves engaged in more stimulating, personal and exciting conversations about what we love, rather than what we merely do.

As someone who has had jobs of all shapes and sizes, with a couple of degrees to her name, and a daily panicky wave about the future (as I imagine every twenty-something to have), I’m hyper-aware of how genuinely horrible career talk can be. There’s an inherent guilt, be it society-induced or personal, if we aren’t doing something relating to our chosen subject field, what we trained in or what we have a passion for. Endless job site searches, relentless imposter syndrome and general exhaustion in navigating the first steps of adulthood are elemental in daily life. However, a saving grace in combating all the above is surrounding yourself with the things you find empowerment, joy and passion within.

Hobby-talk for children and teenagers is what develops into career-talk for adults. The legal age when one is able to work in the UK is sixteen. Prior to that milestone, we are told to discover our interests, engage in our passions and discuss our hobbies. In many ways, our hobbies take up space for what our jobs will become in the future, entity-wise at least.

Sadly, more often than not, as we enter the world of work, discussions of our recreational activities and passion projects transform into corporate jargon, co-worker hang-ups and secret salary chat. I have found that the brighter our CVs glow, the duller our pastimes become. We will never be rid of the shadow of the job market or the domineering presence that capitalism envelops us with. But there are ways to keep it from encroaching upon our sacred places and intimate interests.

There needs to be a conscious diversion in conversation from work to play. When next placed in a social situation outside of work, try to ask the first questions – ones unrelated to labour or job pressures. Ask instead: what gives you enjoyment? Instead of asking how work was, ask how the open mic poetry event they attended last week went. Change ‘How’s the job treating you?’ to ‘How’s the painting treating you?’. Insert ‘like to’ after ‘you’ in the gut-wrenching ‘So, what do you do?’.  Question their coding classes, compare gym workouts, share photography tips, organise a hill walk together. Whatever the interest, be consciously aware of your conversations and the ways work-related talk can sneak in, then keep it out.

Albeit imperative in our current social climate, capitalism has become an unfortunate dominating force in our every day. Money (and lots of it, these days) pays for survival, therefore the ways in which we earn it have become a necessary part of our dialogue. The cost-of-living crisis is incredibly real: food banks are overrun, the housing emergency is looming and the threat of recession lingers around us like a bad smell.

However, if we stop placing our careers on this mythological pedestal and replace our jobs with the little things that fill us with pure joy, we will all feel just a little bit lighter. Sadly, earning a wage is a requirement for modern living, but we shouldn’t let that cloud our focus on what is truly important to us.

Now, I’m going to edit my poetry collection and finish knitting some legwarmers.