A friend of mine recently met a young American woman who was
studying on a Rhodes Scholarship at Oxford. She already had two
degrees from top US universities, had worked as a lawyer and as a
social worker in the US, and somewhere along the way had acquired a
black belt in kung fu. Now, however, her course at Oxford was
coming to an end and she was thoroughly angst-ridden about what to
do next.
The Curse of Choice
Her problem was no ordinary one. She couldn't decide whether she
should make a lot of money as a corporate lawyer/management
consultant, devote herself to charity work helping battered wives
in disadvantaged communities, or go to Hollywood to work as a stunt
double in kung fu films.
What most struck my friend was not the disparity of this woman's
choices, but the earnestness and bad grace with which she ruminated
on them. It was almost as though she begrudged her own talents,
opportunities and freedom - as though the world had treated her
unkindly by forcing her to make such a hard choice.
Her case is symptomatic of our times. In recent years, there has
grown up a culture of discontent among the highly educated young,
something that seems to flare up, especially, when people reach
their late 20s and early 30s.
It arises not from frustration caused by lack of opportunity, as
may have been true in the past, but from an excess of
possibilities. Most theories of adult developmental psychology have
a special category for those in their late 20s and early 30s.
Whereas the early to mid-20s are seen as a time to establish
one's mode of living, the late 20s to early 30s are often
considered a period of reappraisal. In a society where people marry
and have children young, where financial burdens accumulate early,
and where job markets are inflexible, such reappraisals may not
last long. But when people manage to remain free of financial or
family burdens, and where the perceived opportunities for
alternative careers are many, the reappraisal is likely to be
angst-ridden and long lasting.
Among no social group is this more true than the modern,
international, professional elite: that tribe of young bankers,
lawyers, consultants and managers for whom financial, familial,
personal, corporate and (increasingly) national ties have become
irrelevant.
Often they grew up in one country, were educated in another, and
are now working in a third. They are independent, well paid, and
enriched by experiences that many of their parents could only dream
of. Yet, by their late 20s, many carry a sense of disappointment:
that for all their opportunities, freedoms and achievements, life
has not delivered quite what they had hoped.
New Expectations of Work
At the heart of this disillusionment lies a new attitude towards
work. The idea has grown up, in recent years, that work should not
be just a means to an end a way to make money, support a family, or
gain social prestige - but should provide a rich and fulfilling
experience in and of itself. Jobs are no longer just jobs; they are
lifestyle options. Recruiters at financial companies, consultancies
and law firms have promoted this conception of work. Job
advertisements promise challenge, wide experiences, opportunities
for travel and relentless personal development.
Michael is a 33- year-old management consultant who has bought
into this vision of late-20th century work. Intelligent and
well-educated - with three degrees, including a doctorate - he
works in Munich, and has a "stable, long-distance relationship"
with a woman living in California . He takes 140 flights a year and
works an average of 80 hours a week. Some weeks he works more than
100 hours. When asked if he likes his job, he will say: "I enjoy
what I'm doing in terms of the intellectual challenges."
Although he earns a lot, he doesn't spend much. He rents a small
apartment, though he is rarely there, and has accumulated very few
possessions. He justifies the long hours not in terms of
wealth-acquisition, but solely as part of a "learning experience".
This attitude to work has several interesting implications, mostly
to do with the shifting balance between work and non-work,
employment and leisure. Because fulfilling and engrossing work -
the sort that is thought to provide the most intense learning
experience - often requires long hours or captivates the
imagination for long periods of time, it is easy to slip into the
idea that the converse is also true: that just by working long
hours, one is also engaging in fulfilling and engrossing work.
This leads to the popular fallacy that you can measure the value
of your job and, therefore, the amount you are learning from it by
the amount of time you spend on it. And, incidentally, when a
premium is placed on learning rather than earning, people are
particularly susceptible to this form of self-deceit.
Long Hours = Validation and Fulfilment
Thus, whereas in the past, when people in their 20s or 30s spoke
disparagingly about nine-to-five jobs it was invariably because
they were seen as too routine, too unimaginative, or too bourgeois.
Now, it is simply because they don't contain enough hours. Young
professionals have not suddenly developed a distaste for leisure,
but they have solidly bought into the belief that a 45-hour week
necessarily signifies an unfulfilling job.
Jane, a 29-year-old corporate lawyer who works in the City of
London, tells a story about working on a deal with another lawyer,
a young man in his early 30s. At about 3am, he leant over the
boardroom desk and said: Isn't this great? This is when I really
love my job." What most struck her about the remark was that the
work was irrelevant (she says it was actually rather boring); her
colleague simply liked the idea of working late. "It's as though he
was validated, or making his life important by this," she says.
Unfortunately, when people can convince themselves that all they
need do in order to lead fulfilled and happy lives is to work long
hours, they can quickly start to lose reasons for their existence.
As they start to think of their employment as a lifestyle,
fulfilling and rewarding of itself - and in which the reward is
proportional to hours worked - people rapidly begin to substitute
work for other aspects of their lives.
Michael, the management consultant, is a good example of this
phenomenon. He is prepared to trade (his word) not just goods and
time for the experience afforded by his work, but also a
substantial measure of commitment in his personal relationships. In
a few months, he is being transferred to San Francisco, where he
will move in with his girlfriend.
Married to the Job
But he's not sure that living in the same house is actually
going to change the amount of time he spends on his relationship.
"Once I move over, my time involvement on my relationship will not
change significantly. My job takes up most of my time and pretty
much dominates what I do, when, where and how I do it," he says.
Moreover, the reluctance to commit time to a relationship because
they are learning so much, and having such an intense and
fulfilling time at work is compounded, for some young
professionals, by a reluctance to have a long-term relationship at
all.
Today, by the time someone reaches 30, they could easily have
had three or four jobs in as many different cities - which is not,
as it is often portrayed, a function of an insecure global job-
market, but of choice. Robert is 30 years old. He has three degrees
and has worked on three continents. He is currently working for the
United Nations in Geneva. For him, the most significant deterrent
when deciding whether to enter into a relationship is the likely
transient nature of the rest of his life. "What is the point in
investing all this emotional energy and exposing myself in a
relationship, if I am leaving in two months, or if I do not know
what I am doing next year?" he says.
Such is the character of the modern, international professional,
at least throughout his or her 20s. Spare time, goods and
relationships, these are all willingly traded for the exigencies of
work. Nothing is valued so highly as accumulated experience.
Nothing is neglected so much as commitment. With this work ethic -
or perhaps one should call it a professional development ethic" -
becoming so powerful, the globally mobile generation now in its
late 20s and early 30s has garnered considerable professional
success.
The Liberty Trap
At what point, though, does the experience-seeking end? Kathryn
is a successful American academic, 29, who bucked the trend of her
generation: she recently turned her life round for someone else.
She moved to the UK, specifically, to be with a man, a decision
that she says few of her contemporaries understood. "We're not
meant to say: 'I made this decision for this person. Today, you're
meant to do things for yourself. If you're willing to make
sacrifices for others - especially if you're a woman - that's seen
as a kind of weakness. I wonder, though, is doing things for
yourself really empowerment, or is liberty a kind of trap?" she
says.
For many, it is a trap that is difficult to break out of, not
least because they are so caught up in a culture of professional
development. And spoilt for choice, some like the American Rhodes
Scholar no doubt become paralyzed by their opportunities, unable to
do much else in their lives, because they are so determined not to
let a single one of their chances slip. If that means minimal
personal commitments well into their 30s, so be it. "Loneliness is
better than boredom" is Jane's philosophy. And, although she knows
"a lot of professional single women who would give it all up if
they met a "rich man to marry", she remains far more concerned
herself about finding fulfillment at work. "I am constantly
questioning whether I am doing the right thing here," she says.
"There's an eternal search for a more challenging and satisfying
option, a better lifestyle. You always feel you're not doing the
right thing, always feel as if you should be striving for another
goal," she says. Jane, Michael, Robert and Kathryn grew up as part
of a generation with fewer social constraints determining their
futures than has been true for probably any other generation in
history. They were taught at school that when they grew up they
could "do anything", "be anything". It was an idea that was
reinforced by popular culture, in films, books and television.
The notion that one can do anything is clearly liberating. But
life without constraints has also proved a recipe for endless
searching, endless questioning of aspirations. It has made this
generation obsessed with self-development and determined, for as
long as possible, to minimize personal commitments in order to
maximise the options open to them. One might see this as a sign of
extended adolescence. Eventually, they will be forced to realize
that living is as much about closing possibilities as it is about
creating them.
© The Financial Times Limited 1999