Why we're so obsessed with work

I recently read an article by Andrew Sullivan of The Dish called "America and the Protestant Work Ethic"
(http://dish.andrewsullivan.com/2014/02/06/america-and-the-protestant-work-ethic/).  The article touches on a theme that's interested me for some time: the American obsession with work.  My interest stems from an ongoing disagreement with my husband (who is a Jamaican immigrant).  I've repeatedly complained about his obsession with making money.  He insists we're poor, even when I produce evidence that our combined income places us firmly in the top 50% of American families.  This isn't good enough, he tells me.  So in addition to his day job, he does some photography on the side.  He also buys various products, makes some improvements, and sells them for a profit.  Initially he bought and sold photography equipment - cameras, lenses, lights, backdrops, etc.  Lately, he's been buying and selling motorcycles and jet skis.

I have no problem with his extracurricular activities.  I complain only when the number of jet skis and motorcycles residing in our back yard approaches maximum capacity.  I then insist he sell some before buying any more.

My husband believes I too should take on some extracurricular projects for extra income.  I have absolutely no desire to do this.  And so, my husband complains about my lack of drive and ambition.  "You don't care if we're poor," he accuses.

My husband may not be American but he has definitely bought into the "American dream."  He came to the "land of opportunity" in order to prosper; that's exactly what he plans to do.

Which is why I so enjoyed Sullivan's article.  Sullivan recognizes that to understand the American relationship with work one must look to its origins.  Among the first European settlers in what is now the United States were religious minorities who sought a place to practice their faith without persecution.  They were mostly Protestants of various denominations - Puritans, Quakers, Lutherans, Calvinists, Mennonites (Anabaptists), etc. - although there were also some Jewish and Catholic groups.  Many of these religious groups abhorred luxury and extravagance, believing them symbols of sin, greed, and corruption.

For example, the "Rules of Discipline" from an early Quaker settlement in Philadelphia advises all followers to "keep out of the world's corrupt language, manners, vain and needless things and fashions, in apparel, buildings, and furniture of houses, some of which are immodest, indecent, and unbecoming."  It further cautions them to "avoid immoderation in the use of lawful things, which though innocent in themselves, may thereby become hurtful; also such kinds of stuffs, colours and dress, as are calculated more to please a vain and wanton mind, than for real usefulness."

They believed a Godly life was one of simplicity: hard work, frequent prayer, good deeds, and modest behavior were key.

As the original settlements expanded and a fledgling nation emerged, these beliefs became embedded in the American psyche.  A lot has changed in three hundred years.  Americans abandoned simplicity as an ideal long ago.  We are no longer a pious nation; our faith in God has been replaced with faith in capitalism, consumerism, and a free market economy.  As a people we have become less communal and more self-centered.  While we have discarded most of the values espoused by those early settlers, the "Protestant work ethic" remains an integral part of American culture today.

The Protestant work ethic was first introduced by Protestant theologian John Calvin.  According to Calvin, everyone must work because hard work is the will of God.  Today, this basic principle is reflected in the widely held beliefs that hard work leads to success and that the harder you work the more successful you will be.  It also lies at the very heart of the American dream: "freedom includes the opportunity for prosperity and success, and upward social mobility and can be achieved through hard work" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Dream).  This same creed explains America's widespread enmity towards recipients of "welfare" and other public assistance programs.  If hard work begets success then people who are not successful must not be working hard enough.  And those who are least successful must be downright lazy.

Never mind that the wealthiest Americans are not necessarily the hardest working ones.  Never mind that outside economic and social forces can leave destitute people who have worked hard their entire lives. Never mind that the American economy doesn't even have enough jobs to employ every able bodied American adult.  

Americans hold dear the value of hard work.  It is acceptable to neglect all other aspects of life in the name of work.  It is, in fact, a noble sacrifice.  We will never be criticized for devoting ourselves to work;  people will respect us for it.  Of course this has consequences.  Our lives lack balance.  We aren't happy.  We feel lost and unfulfilled.

But Sullivan thinks things may be changing.  He argues that current economic realities are challenging our Protestant work ethic.  I'm not convinced this is the case.  Cultural change is extremely difficult.  But if, as Sullivan asserts, things are changing then I for one say it's long overdue.  

Work

Recently a close friend of mine mentioned that she'd started a new job and would only be working part time from now on.  In some ways I felt bad.  My friend and I met back in 2006.  We both worked at the same place.  It was my first job after college.  My friend graduated a year before me so she had a little more work experience than I did at the time.  In our profession, everyone has to "do their time" so to speak in a job that is less than desirable.  We are required to have two years of formal supervision by a licensed professional before we can apply for a license to practice independently.  Without the license, job opportunities are limited and income is low.

This was the situation both my friend and I were in when we met.  Neither of us liked our jobs very much and we were both struggling financially.  We'd expected the years immediately after graduation to be difficult but I don't think either of us expected it to be as bad as it was.  But we got through it.  Eventually she ended up moving back to her home town and completing her licensing requirements there. 

After sharing an employer for a few years our occupational paths diverged.  We both got licensed as independent practitioners and set out to find better jobs.  I found a job with my currently employer doing outpatient psychotherapy.  I've been at this job for five and a half years.  The time has pased quickly.  My friend wasn't able to find her "dream job" right away so she accepted a job she didn't like very much while she continued to search for better opportunities.  Except they never came, despite her best efforts.  She stayed where she was for about two years.  At that point, things were so unpleasant for her that she was willing to work just about anywhere else just to get away.  She took another job that was not really what she wanted but it was all that was available at the time.  She worked there for another couple of years but became increasingly unhappy with it.  In the meantime, she met a great guy and they got married.  Now they are getting ready to start a family.  With her husband's encouragement, my friend left her job and accepted a part time position with a different company. 

As I said before, part of me felt bad for my friend.  She's spent her whole career working at places she hates.  I know how miserable it is to hate your job.  Every morning is a struggle.  Sunday nights are filled with dread of the upcoming work week.  You want to quit but you can't; you have bills to pay.  You feel trapped. 

I also feel fortunate.  I work at a place where I am valued by my supervisors and coworkers.  The workload is managable.  I set my own schedule (with guidelines, of course) and the work hours are managable.  I don't ever have to be on call; when I leave work I leave work.  I have my own little office I can escape to.  My salary is set; I always know how much my paycheck will be.  My job isn't perfect, but I've got a pretty good deal.

So why do I also feel envious of my friend?  I felt kind of bad when my friend told me she was only working part time but I also felt jealous.  "Man, I'd love to only work part time," I said to myself.  I thought about all the things I could do with the extra hours I'd have every day.  "Better still," I thought.  "It would be nice not to have to work at all."  I'm sure I'm not the only one who has ever had this fantasy.  The majority of us spend most of our lives working hard so we can retire and spend our golden years in leisure.  So sure, we all dream about not having to work.  I just wonder if everyone dreams about it as much as I do...

I got my first "real" job when I was sixteen.  The rule was if I wanted to drive I had to pay for gas and for car insurance.  That meant I had to get a job. When you have no experience and few marketable skills you basically take whatever job you can get.  I took a job cleaning tables, sweeping floors, and washing dishes.  I hated it.  Immediately.  I can still recall the dread that bore down on me before each shift.  The days seemed endless.  I didn't last very long there.  Within two months I found another job and quit. 

The new job was at a grocery store, ringing up groceries.  This wasn't as bad as sweeping floors but I can't say that I liked it.  I worked there for about a year and then got a job waiting tables.  I'm clumsy and uncoordinated; I was not a very good waitress.  I lasted about nine months and then found a job at a big department store.  This was by far the best place I'd ever worked.  Still, I dreaded going to work and worked as few hours as I could get away with. 

Of course my job now is far better than anything I did before college.  I never dread going to work.  And yet, I never want to go to work.  I spend all week counting the days until the weekend.  Each month I check the calendar for holidays.  I look forward to things like Columbus Day, Presidents' Day, and Veterans' Day for weeks in advance.  I am always aware of the next day I have off.  Is this normal?

I wonder why I feel this way about work.  I sometimes think I must be lazy but I hate to think of myself that way.  What do you think?  What is your relationship to work?  How do you feel about it? 

Do you love your job?

It's funny how sometimes a casual conversation with an acquaintance can reveal to a person things he didn't know about himself.  Or how an offhand comment can pique a person's interest and lead to self-examination. 

Something like this happened to me the other night.  A close friend had organized a "girls' night out" at a local wine tasting room.  This friend has a pretty extensive network of friends.  (I often wonder how she manages to keep up with them all).  When she arranges an outing, she typically invites several of her closest girlfriends, myself included.  Last weekend, the group consisted of me, another close friend of mine, the friend who planned the get together, and two of her close friends who I've met before but don't know all that well.

While talking with one of the girls I'd met only two or three times before, we discovered that we actually work in the same building.  Naturally, this led to a conversation about what we do for a living.  She seemed intrigued when I told her that I am a psychotherapist.  A few minutes into the conversation she asked me, "So, do you absolutely love your job?" 

"No," I replied without hesitation.  As soon as I said it I felt compelled to elaborate.  "Don't get my wrong," I rushed to add.  "I don't hate my job.  I'm proud of what I do.  It gives me a sense of satisfaction and fulfillment.  I just don't love it..." 

I wasn't sure how else to explain it.  Maybe it's because I really don't understand it myself.  Most of my colleagues seem to get pleasure from their work.  There are even a few who seem excited by it.  Why don't I feel that way? 

I thought about it for a few days.  Ultimately, I began to ponder a quite different and perhaps more basic question: Who says we're supposed to love our jobs?  I mean, here I am thinking something is wrong with me because I don't love my job, despite the fact that I find it meaningful and satisfying.  But who says lacking passion for one's work is pathological?  Yes, there are people who love what they do for a living but there are also a lot of people who don't.  Why is one group considered "normal" while the other is assumed to have problems?

Being passionate about your work is one of the pillars of the broader self help movement here in America.  It seems like everywhere you turn these days there is some self-help book, magazine cover, talk show host, or website offering advice on how to "love your job" or "find your passion."  If you're not doing what you love for a living then you're not being true to yourself, they tell us.  We are encouraged to "quit your job and discover your passion."  Messages like these are so prevalent that even employers have bought into it.  They want to hire employees who are "passionate about the job."  The assumption is that a passionate worker is a good worker; those lacking passion need not apply.  Once merely a desirable quality, passion is fast becoming a basic job requirement.  Americans now see passion as a prerequisite for success.
Yves Smith talks about this in her article "The Case Against Passion."  She believes the whole idea that work should be driven by passion is misguided.  American society has embraced the belief that the true path to happiness lies in "following your dreams."  Those of us who feel anything less than passionate about our jobs are told that we're missing out.  We are encouraged to go off in pursuit of "something more," to search until we find our passion.  Only then will we know true contentment.

I wonder, though, how many of us "non-passionate" people felt fine until we were told we should feel passionate about our jobs.  Perhaps it wasn't until we were expected to feel passionate that we started to wonder why we didn't. 

Every person is unique.  We cannot expect that everyone will approach work (or anything else, for that matter) in exactly the same way and with exactly the same attitude.