[QUOTE=Phlosphr]
I’m talking about a complete Flibbertygibbet! She’s extremely intelligent, has a BA in Psychology, yet went into Finance [more money] and now is feeling completely and utterly lost! She is addicted to Web-career counseling, i.e typing into google: what do I do with my life
What do I tell this person?
[/QUOTE]
Perhaps you could tell her that “what do I do with my life?” covers an awfully long time, and maybe she should look at a shorter timeframe. Since nothing is certain, nothing need be forever, and she should go into whatever strikes her fancy (barring any fields requiring any professional qualifications she doesn’t have, such as a medical degree). If she doesn’t end up liking it, she can leave it. And she should be flexible and prepared for anything–and that “anything” may be good or bad. This may not be what she wants to hear, but let me share my story, and my advice may make more sense:
When I finished my degree, I cast about for a job. I settled on technical writing. I was involved in the high-tech field–it was the early 80s, the IBM PC had just come out, and anybody who could was designing and building computers, operating systems, and the like. The field needed people who could organize information and write manuals on how to use these wonderful new machines. The money was good, the field was exploding, and it looked like a bright future.
But it had a dark side. Each time a company I worked for “had a bad year” (translation: when its revenues did not double), it “restructured” or “rightsized” in an effort to mitigate future damage. In other words, it laid off people. Generally, these people were not the engineers who designed the technology, but rather, those who filled other roles: customer service people, factory workers, and–yep–technical writers. I could usually land on my feet after such events, but the same thing would happen again eventually. Even when I worked in the IT department of a nonprofit charity, a recession hit, and donations dried up. Layoff time again.
At these times, if nothing presented itself immediately, I’d just take whatever offered itself until I could find something in the tech writing field. And so, I also found myself working retail, working in warehouses and factories, driving a truck, and engaged in other such jobs. I punched my card and carried my lunchbucket and did my time on the night shift. Often, the money wasn’t what I had been earning at technical writing, but it paid the rent and kept food on the table. The good point was that I learned a few interesting and fun skills: among others, I learned how to operate a forklift, how to operate an injection molding machine, and how to drive an 18-wheeler. And some of these skills made it easier for me to get another similar job the next time a high-tech company I ended up at decided to restructure.
That’s why I’d say to your friend that nothing lasts forever; or needs to last forever, if she doesn’t want it to. I had a few nasty surprises, and some things didn’t turn out exactly as I wanted them to, but I managed. All of my experiences, from producing fine manuals to sweeping warehouse floors, were valuable. But flexibility is key, I think, and while it sounds trite, a setback can be an opportunity in disguise. When else would somebody like me get the chance to learn how to drive a truck? Which, perhaps unsurprisingly for those who know me, I found that I really enjoyed.
Note that I did eventually tire of technical writing. There was very little more I could do in the field–I had written, designed, and edited all kinds of manuals, online help, and so on. What else could I do? So after twenty-plus years, I decided to go back to school and get a law degree. Nothing need last forever indeed, and a choice made in your twenties doesn’t have to constrain you when you’re in your forties.
and I’m still doing that 17 years later.