Today’s AntiNiche is quite Niche-y: Let’s say, “No.”
As a teenager, a college student, and an adult child masquerading as a "young adult" I said yes to every single job, paid or unpaid, unless it conflicted with another job. I babysat (my least favorite), dog walked (most favorite), cleaned, taught theater, trained police officers, packaged cocktail napkins, worked as a hostess, a server, a prep cook, a food runner, a dishwasher, a knitting teacher, a (very bad) barista, an office assistant, an airport shuttle, a booking agent, a touring performer, an actor in maybe some of the worst plays ever written?, a dancer, a director, a producer, a retail sales associate, a clothing buyer, my god what have I not done? Ah— Make decent money. That's the one.
Last Thursday I attended my first in-person job interview in recent memory. The position (Part Time Event Coordinator for a historic site) was one I was wildly qualified for, but not one I was convinced I wanted. Still, I liked how it settled into my new community and meeting people as an adult is hard. It has also been pointed out to me by multiple boomers that having a remote job is “No way to get connected to your new community!” As though jobs are the only kind of community a person can have.
The job boasted 15 - 40 hours weekly (no one can plan around this kind of schedule, nor that variance in pay) at $19.88/hr. There were no benefits listed and nothing about overtime. I did not ask, but I did observe the red flags.
When they reached out for an interview, I did the thing I always do when someone reaches out for an interview and googled the bejesus out of the person this position would answer to and anyone else I may be interviewing with. The interviewer, also the supervisor of the position, was young enough to be my child (in a distressing, young teen-pregnancy kind of way, but definitely biologically possible), which I promise I really tried to let roll off my back with grace.
The interview with not one, but two whippersnappers, went very well for them, I think. They had three printed pages of questions and took notes with a pen, which I did not expect from GenZ. They were much more mature and together than I was at twenty-whatever, which I promise did not make me feel both old AND like I wasted my youth on recreational drugs and trying to be cool.
Post interview, I waited for one of the interviewees to get my free pass to the museum and the other told me about an event she'd managed earlier that week which amounted to a fifteen hour day. That was the clincher for me. In my twenties I worked long hours often. In restaurants, theaters, and bars. Not infrequently, I put in 18 hour days three days in a row but I... am not in my twenties anymore. I don’t want to spend so much of my time at someone else’s event any more. I want to make my own events. Like Sitting in Bed and Writing ‘Palooza 2023 (you’re not invited, so sorry).
The kind youths left me to the self-guided tour. Five Stars. Being by myself and looking at old stuff is very much my speed, so I meandered for a while: I walked down to the lake, through the multiple gardens, lingered in the gift shop and grew an affection for a little stuffed loon. And then I headed home.
At around 4pm I received a phone call from a number I didn't recognize and let it go to voicemail because I'm not a monster. Surprising me once again, Mr. GenZ left a voicemail asking me to call him back. On the phone. Which I did, after a lot griping about why people can't just put things in writing and be done with it I don't want to have awkward conversations on the phone this is dumb.
Mr. GenZ offered me the job at a full dollar per hour above the advertised amount (that’s $20.88 for those keeping track), speaking quickly about how he thought I'll really click with the team and they were so impressed with my interview and they noticed I hung around for a long time afterwards, which they knew indicated my genuine interest. So he was even more disappointed when I thanked him and told him that I'd had some unexpected opportunities since I submitted my application (not a lie) and I had to consider the rigidity of an event schedule when my family lived so far away (also true). He was crestfallen, but understanding. I thanked him again.
That was second time this year, and in my life that I said no to a job. Scarcity mindset is real and I'd be a liar if I told you I didn't feel ill afterwards. It feels bad to say no to "opportunity" but I knew what that opportunity was bad for me— fifteen hour days ensuring demanding and wealthy guests are happy and not destroying an historic artifact while paying for my own health insurance and not knowing if I’d make rent that month? That’s something worth saying no to.
I’m reading Uncanny Valley right now, a memoir by Anna Wiener about her time working in Silicon Valley in Customer Support. She talks about her conversations with founders of start-ups and CEOs and how they all seemed to know exactly what they wanted, and she just… didn’t. It’s a viewpoint that relate to deeply. I struggled for a long time with knowing what I want, which drove my Yes-capades to go on for so long.
I’m still figuring it out. Still learning to say no through exposure therapy. But I have a better sense of what I want now (thanks therapy!) and a far better sense of what I don’t (thanks, age!).
How are you at saying no? Super expert? Still on the learning curve? I want to know all about your no-saying prowess.
I feel like knowing what you want is so important!! I keep telling myself that saying no to the things that aren't right will help keep space open for the things that are. Also can I please attend the next Stay-In-Bed Write-a-palooza? (Obvs I will be attending from home.)
Your experience resonates. In searching for what I want, I recently entertained applying for a minimum-wage job at a bookstore. I love to read. I know a lot about many books and writers. So, why not? But I stopped short of applying because I know my happiness depends on having as little scheduled time as possible (i.e., no shift work). Also, as a self-employed, I must justify how I spend my "for money" time; minimum wage doesn't cut it.
A different me at another time would've applied. Maybe that person would've gotten the job, and perhaps that person would've liked it. But I'm not that person anymore.
We may not know what we want, but knowing what we don't is a start.