When Dream Jobs Don’t Come True

Dream-JobA mere five hours ago, I returned home from the Sundance Film Festival. Sadly, not fresh-faced from a first class seat on a flight, but after an 11-hour drive with a 103 temperature from getting four hours of sleep a night and eating Subway sandwiches and five cups of coffee per day. Not very glamorous!

Growing up in a small southern town, I loved two things: fashion and movies. I wasn’t interested in making either of them, but I did have specific things within them that I loved. I liked styling my friends in a mix and match of mall clothing and vintage finds, and I loved watching movies and picking out songs that I thought would better emphasize my favorite scenes. This was something I later learned was an actual job – music supervision. So like many of the dreamers of my generation, I packed up my 17-year-old bags and moved to New York City to attend NYU for a double major in music and film. I had no idea what I was in for.

College was really hard on me. The fast reality that both film and music were incredibly hard industries to get into was weighing me down. So were the mounting student loans – a resounding $148,000 by the time I graduated, pre-interest. I know, you’re probably thinking, “What kind of idiot expects to go to NYU and then just waltz into a money-making Hollywood career?” Well, this idiot, I guess. I grew up, like many others my age, being told that if I worked hard and really wanted something, I would get it. My dad often joked that you don’t follow your dreams; you chase them down and beat them into submission. And I completely believed in that!

But by the time I graduated, I was in a near state of panic. Was this it? I’d drag my bags back to Georgia with my tail between my legs and plaster a “Well, I tried, folks” look on my face? I hadn’t a clue.

Luckily for me, fate intervened. In college, I worked as a nanny to a special needs kid in my neighborhood. The mom was an editor at CosmoGIRL! and helped me get an internship that I’d hoped would turn into a job. It didn’t, but I soon landed a gig as a researcher for Jane magazine. While it wasn’t my dream job (and I felt guilty for months for possibly taking the place of someone whose dream it actually was), I found that having the chance to research and sometimes even write about movies and entertainment was nearly as good as actually being a part of the industry.

That was, until Jane folded. I remember clearly my exit conversation with the lady from HR, who told me pretty straightforwardly to find a different career path. “It’s a dying field, honey,” she told me. “You’re young and you can still start over. Sometimes dreams don’t work out, but you’ll find something else. Dreams change and so do people.” Something else, I thought. This was my something else!

The next six months were a tough wake-up call. I took a job as a PA (production assistant) on a small, indie film. Honestly, I think I was just hoping the flick would get into Sundance and I could finally go. It seemed like a dream. I also figured I might meet some people, or at least see if there was another position in film that I might be interested in. There wasn’t. The reality was that what I wanted to do was nearly impossible to get into, especially without knowing anyone. I could toil as a PA for a few years and take my chances, but I just… didn’t want to. I know this sounds nuts, because I was all of about 23, but I was exhausted. I took a job at Urban Outfitters around the time that many of my friends were getting their first job promotions. To say that I felt lost is probably an understatement.

The following years were really tough. I eventually went back to magazines and websites. I had a brush with my dream writing job at Entertainment Weekly until they laid off half of the staff. I didn’tget out of bed for a week. I eventually gave up and moved back home, but after my dad passed away shortly after, I was too depressed to stay there and ended up back in the city. At 28 years of age, I have worked at over 11 magazines and websites and I have never left a job. Not once. I’ve never been salaried, had health insurance or a savings account.

To finish reading this post, head on over to The Levo League.
To finish reading this post, head on over to The Levo League.

Share This Post: