Right now, I am engrossed in a new series called The Bold Type. It’s got serious Sex and the City vibes but it’s a little more woke, and follows the lives of three best friends in their mid-20s as they navigate work, love and life in a Trump-era at a top magazine in the Big Apple.
But despite its obvious entertainment value, I’ve found the show a little confronting. The glitz and glamour of magazine publishing is waning, and watching a series that still depicts print titles as an essential part of the daily reading habits of millennials while knowing that in real life, amazing editors were being laid off and iconic titles were shutting up shop, minimised the enjoyment of something that could otherwise have been a guilty pleasure.
Instead, it magnified a sense of guilt that has been eating away at me for some time, namely the viability of my being able to provide for my children (or at least, share in my husband’s breadwinning) while the industry I trained in continues its rapid decline.
You needn’t be a writer to empathise, or even understand. As technological advancements dispel the need for certain skills (for example, The Department of Jobs and Small Business publication, Australian Jobs 2018, reports that demand for bookkeepers and accounting clerks has been on the decline in the new millennium, thanks to automation) and businesses take other work off-shore (something we’d all be aware of if we ever had to ring a customer service line), many of us are feeling the pain and pressure of contemplating a career change.
Many a parent has expressed surprise to discover that returning to study could cost the equivalent of a deposit on a small unit, the kind of ‘discretionary’ spending no one has lying around
Women who have taken time off work to raise children are returning to a workforce that has drastically changed, their concerns compounded by the pressure to provide for children – not iPads and dance lessons, but everyday basics – as the cost of living increases and house prices and daycare rates send them into a financial abyss.
To make it worse, last year’s government changes to university funding means that anyone who is considering retraining needs a well-lined purse to accommodate their aspirations. Many a parent has expressed surprise to discover that returning to study could cost the equivalent of a deposit on a small unit, the kind of ‘discretionary’ spending no one has lying around, and changes to fee-paying discounts now offering much less incentive than they used to.
We can’t fight progress, but there are times when I am sitting at home, fretting about the future, when I remember the words of my teachers warning us to study hard so we don’t end up in hair and make-up jobs. But open Instagram and you’ll find that these are the jobs raking in the dough, our daily use of social media apps and penchant for selfies feeding a narcissism that keeps us well-groomed and makeup influencers and artists well-paid.
I’m not averse to a little hard work. I’m currently studying again, working part-time, and being the full-time, at-home parent to my two children. My work often offers some flexibility to enable me to do all three, but it’s not a sustainable pursuit (and it’s certainly catching up with me). And even when I graduate, the idea of starting somewhere new in my 30s, where I will likely be older than those in more senior roles, is a tad frightening. Not to mention embarrassing, as I recently discovered when I asked about an internship with a woman some seven years younger than me and got no response.
While the prospect is stressful, I can’t forget my own privilege. I have had access to an education, where as many migrants have come here looking for work in certain sectors but can’t because their qualifications don’t translate.
For women juggling families, it’s even more complex. Although recruitment experts like Will Dunn, Director of Talent Acquisition firm Ampersand International, says that employers are willing to become more flexible and will hire candidates with a transferable skillset even if their experience is limited, the extent to which this is put into practice isn’t necessarily something that is obvious and measurable.
In finding a way to still provide for my family and make a contribution to the workforce, perhaps I will build my own resilience, and make me more adept at adapting to change
I don’t know if it’s going to be simple to find a space in between, but just being able to discuss these issues without the shame or stigma associated with unemployment or financial insecurity is imperative. For many of us, admitting that we invested years into education and work experience in a field that modernity has made a dead-end of can be deeply upsetting.
I’ve never believed that it’s ever too late to change your career. But that change is the easy part. Navigating everything else around it – costs, flexible work, child-rearing – is where it gets daunting.
I remember being young and feeling – and being told – that my generation could have it all. Then I grew up and realised that was both myth and madness. For now, I am trying to be positive, and reminding myself (as I have in the past) that human beings have been storytellers from the beginning of time.
Maybe I, like many others, including the characters of The Bold Type, will have to find a different way to tell my story. And in finding a way to still provide for my family and make a contribution to the workforce, perhaps I will build my own resilience, and make me more adept at adapting to change.
After all, these are the sorts of skills I might never learn in a university degree or comfortable job.
