How to Find Fulfilling Work

How to Find Fulfilling Work Plot Summary

Introduction

I still remember that Sunday evening feeling. That familiar heaviness settling in my chest around 6 pm as Monday approached. I had a respectable job, a good salary, and colleagues who were pleasant enough. Yet there I was, dreading the week ahead, scrolling through job listings without any clear sense of what I was looking for. Just... something else. Something more. This quest for meaningful work isn't unique to our time, but it has become one of the defining struggles of modern life. We spend roughly 90,000 hours of our lives working—nearly a third of our waking existence—yet studies show that more than half of us feel disconnected from what we do. The stories that follow explore this profound tension: between security and passion, between what we do and who we are. They reveal people at career crossroads, facing the paralyzing question that haunts so many of us: How do I find work that matters? Work that allows me to contribute something meaningful while honoring my unique talents and values? Through their journeys—sometimes messy, often unpredictable, ultimately illuminating—we discover that finding fulfilling work isn't about discovering a hidden treasure map to success, but rather about embarking on a courageous exploration of both the world and ourselves.

Chapter 1: Confronting the Career Crossroads: Tales of Discontent

Rob Archer grew up on a housing estate in Liverpool where unemployment reached 50 percent and heroin was the main industry. Through determination and hard work, he escaped this environment, went to university, and secured an enviable position as a management consultant in London. On paper, his life was a success story. He was earning good money, had interesting clients, and made his family proud. Yet internally, he was miserable. "I should have been very happy, but I was utterly miserable," Rob recalls. "I remember being put on assignments in which I had no background but was presented as an expert. I was supposed to know about knowledge management and IT, but it all left me cold, and I always felt like an outsider." For ten years, he tried to ignore these feelings, believing he should be grateful just to have a job, especially a "good" one. He focused on fitting in, and when that failed, lived for the weekends. The situation became unsustainable. Eventually, his body forced a reckoning that his mind had been avoiding. "One day I had to ask the CEO's personal assistant to call me an ambulance because I thought I was having a heart attack," he shares. "It turned out to be a panic attack. That's when I knew I couldn't go on." Despite this clarity, Rob felt trapped. How could he trade security for uncertainty? Would changing careers mean wasting all his progress? He felt guilty for even longing for such luxuries as "meaning" and "fulfillment." His grandfather certainly wouldn't have complained about such good fortune. Sameera Khan's story reflects a different path to the same crossroads. At sixteen, she decided to become a lawyer, influenced by her interest in human rights and her favorite TV show, LA Law. But she was also driven by her parents' expectations—Pakistani and East African Indian immigrants who measured success through professional status. After completing her law degree and spending her twenties qualifying as a solicitor, she landed a position as an in-house corporate lawyer for a hedge fund. "I had it all," she explains. "I was a City Girl earning megabucks, and loved the way law used my brain." But a pivotal moment came during her honeymoon in Sicily. Sitting on the beach, she had an epiphany: "I realized something wasn't right. I'd just got married, which was a huge rite of passage in my life and I should have been ecstatic. I'd achieved my dream of becoming a lawyer, and I had my partner by my side. Yet I felt totally unfulfilled." These stories reveal a profound truth: career dissatisfaction often emerges from a disconnect between external success and internal values. Rob and Sameera achieved what society defined as success—prestigious positions, financial security, professional status—yet found themselves asking, "Is this it?" Their experiences highlight how we can become trapped by our own achievements, creating golden handcuffs that make it increasingly difficult to pivot toward more meaningful work. The quest for fulfilling work is ultimately about alignment—bringing our external career choices into harmony with our internal values, passions, and sense of purpose. And as we'll see in the chapters ahead, this alignment rarely happens by accident. It requires deep self-knowledge, the courage to experiment, and sometimes the willingness to reimagine success entirely.

Chapter 2: The Psychology of Career Confusion and Choice Paralysis

"I remember, aged 23, standing with my father in front of Blue Poles, a painting by Jackson Pollock," recalls the author. His father saw the poles as prison bars he was looking into, while the author felt trapped inside the cell, gazing out at freedom. When his father expressed confusion at how his son could feel trapped given his abundant opportunities, the author replied, "You don't realize how hard it is to be free." This poignant exchange captures a modern paradox: unprecedented career freedom can create paralyzing confusion. Unlike his father, a Polish refugee who worked at IBM for over fifty years after serving as a nurse to earn citizenship, the author faced countless possibilities. Yet there he stood, perplexed by choice, unable to determine his path forward despite staring at Pollock's painting for answers. The expansion of choice represents the first major source of career confusion. For most of history, work was determined by fate and necessity. Benjamin Franklin's career path illustrates this: at age ten, he began working with his father making candles. When he grew tired of it, his father took him around neighboring streets to observe joiners and bricklayers before deciding his bookish son should become a printer—legally binding him to a nine-year apprenticeship. Today, we face an overwhelming array of options. One website lists 12,000 careers, with 487 under the letter 'A' alone. Psychologist Barry Schwartz identifies this as "the paradox of choice": while some choice is essential for well-being, too much becomes debilitating. When facing excessive options, we often become paralyzed, unable to decide at all. Even when we do choose, we tend to feel less satisfied, always wondering if we made the right decision. Another source of career confusion comes from educational decisions made in our youth. At 15 or 16, we select educational pathways that can determine our professional trajectory for decades. In Britain, 80 percent of pupils choose A-level subjects based on "being useful for their career." But how much do we really know about ourselves or available career paths at that age? These early choices can lock us into careers that no longer suit who we've become. Family pressures further complicate matters. One quarter of British Asian graduates feel their parents significantly influenced their career choice—with clear preferences for medicine (24%), law (19%), and accountancy (14%). Sameera's story exemplifies this: she knew choosing law would please her Pakistani father and Indian mother, who found her later resignation from a high-paying legal job utterly perplexing. The shortcomings of personality testing also contribute to our confusion. Despite their popularity, tests like the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) have significant flaws. Studies show that if you retake the MBTI after just five weeks, there's a 50% chance you'll fall into a different personality category. As respected psychologist David Pittenger notes, there is "no evidence to show a positive relation between MBTI type and success within an occupation...nor is there any data to suggest that specific types are more satisfied within specific occupations." These forces create a perfect storm of career confusion. We are not psychologically equipped to handle the expansion of options history has given us. We struggle against the legacies of educational choices made in our immature youth. And the promise of "scientific" career advice has largely failed to offer an easy way forward. Understanding these sources of confusion doesn't immediately solve our dilemmas, but it does relieve us of sole responsibility for them. Our uncertainty isn't a personal failing but the result of profound historical and psychological forces. Recognizing this allows us to approach the challenge of finding fulfilling work with greater clarity, compassion, and creativity.

Chapter 3: Finding Meaning: Values, Passions, and Talents in Action

Trevor Dean used to work as a refrigeration mechanic and later as a shop assistant in Victoria, Australia. One day, a friend mentioned he was doing work experience at a local mortuary. Trevor, who had seen death during his years as a volunteer firefighter, found himself intrigued. When a local ad appeared for a funeral assistant, he applied and got the job. Three years later, he trained as an embalmer. "What does the job mean to me?" Trevor reflects. "I look after loved ones on their last journey; I care for them as if they were my own." He keeps a folder of thank-you letters from family members. One reads, "his wife just kept saying how peaceful and beautiful he looked and wanted to pass on her thanks." Another says, "the family were absolutely rapt with the way she was presented and couldn't stop raving about how good she looked." Trevor derives profound satisfaction not from having a prestigious job—being an embalmer is hardly high-status—but from being respected for his contribution and skills. After graduating with a degree in engineering science, Clare Taylor found work at an engineering consultancy in San Francisco, then moved to a better-paid position at a small software house. While building content-management systems for Sony, she began moonlighting for Internews, helping Palestinians use the internet to spread news of violence they were experiencing. This side project triggered a revelation: she cared far more about social justice than corporate profits. "I had an epiphany," Clare recalls. "I suddenly knew which side I was on." She left her dotcom job, returned to Ireland, and used her savings to start a magazine called YOKE: Free Thinking for the World Citizen. Though it lasted only two years, it gained media attention and contributions from notable writers. "I was living on the dole and in a bedsit, running the magazine from my office which was under the loft bed in the corner of the room," she says. "Although I was skint, I had a real sense that this was exactly what I was supposed to be doing." Wayne Davies, an Australian who discovered the esoteric medieval sport of "real tennis," embodies the pursuit of passion and talent. Within months of discovering the sport in 1978, he resigned his job as a secondary-school science teacher, took a huge salary cut, and began a new career as an assistant coach. He traveled nearly three hours each morning to arrive at work by 8 a.m. When asked what was the best thing about being a real tennis pro, he replied simply, "Playing tennis. What's the best thing about life? Playing tennis. That's what I think. Life is a tennis court." Wayne gave his whole life to the game, sleeping on a mattress at the club so he could practice at dawn for four hours before coaching began. Sometimes he even practiced in his pajamas in the middle of the night. "If you're going to get good at anything," he said, "you've got to have tunnel vision." This dedication made him the sport's world champion in 1987, reigning undefeated for almost eight years. These stories reveal the five dimensions of meaning in work: earning money, achieving status, making a difference, following passions, and using talents. While money and status are "extrinsic" motivations (means to an end), the others are "intrinsic" (valued as ends in themselves). Research consistently shows that prioritizing intrinsic motivations leads to greater fulfillment. Money and status can create a "hedonic treadmill" where expectations continuously rise, leaving us perpetually unsatisfied. In contrast, work that allows us to express our values (like Clare's commitment to social justice), develop our talents (like Trevor's embalming skills), or pursue our passions (like Wayne's dedication to real tennis) provides deeper, more lasting satisfaction. Finding meaningful work isn't about discovering a single perfect job that satisfies all dimensions. Instead, it involves identifying our "multiple selves"—the various aspects of our personalities and potential careers that might suit them. This might mean becoming a "wide achiever" with several part-time careers rather than a specialist in one field. By exploring these possibilities through experimental projects, conversations, and creative exercises, we can navigate toward work that truly reflects who we are and who we want to become.

Chapter 4: Act First, Reflect Later: Experimental Approaches to Career Change

Laura van Bouchout felt stuck. In her late twenties, with five jobs already behind her—mostly organizing cultural events—she couldn't find work she loved. She sought professional advice, taking personality tests and reflecting on her ambitions, but when she presented her career counselor with pages of dream jobs, he was as confused as she was. After months of frustration, Laura took a radical approach: "I decided to try out thirty different jobs in the year leading up to my thirtieth birthday, dedicating the whole year to my career struggle," she explains. While working part-time as a music programmer to pay bills, she contacted people with interesting careers and asked to shadow them for at least three days. She tried being a fashion photographer, bed-and-breakfast reviewer, creative director at an advertising agency, cat hotel owner, European parliament member, recycling center director, and youth hostel manager. Through this immersive journey, Laura discovered something profound: "The more jobs I try, the more I realize it's not a rational process of listing criteria and finding a job that matches them. It's a bit like dating. When I was single I had a mental list of qualities I thought my boyfriend should have. But some guys who met all the criteria on my list did nothing for me. And at one point you find someone who doesn't meet half your checklist but blows you away." Laura's experiment revealed the most significant insight in career change research: act first, and reflect later. For over a century, the conventional wisdom has been to "plan then implement"—first analyzing your strengths and interests, then researching matching careers, creating an action plan, and finally taking action. But this approach rarely works. We either find ourselves in unsuitable jobs despite our planning, or become so overwhelmed by options that we do nothing. The most effective strategy turns this approach upside down. Instead of endless reflection, we should identify several "possible selves" and test them through experimental projects. These take three main forms: radical sabbaticals (like Laura's year of job-sampling), branching projects (smaller experiments around your existing career), and conversational research (meaningful discussions with people in fields that interest you). The author shares his own branching project experience: "After several years as the project director at a small foundation, I had a yearning to leave and start running my own workshops on the art of living. But I was worried about the financial risks and whether they would succeed." After months of indecision, his partner suggested he stop talking and start acting. He recruited ten friends for a kitchen-table workshop, then approached a local club to host evening classes. "It soon became a regular gig, the classes grew in popularity, and within a few months I felt assured enough to leave my day job, having overcome my primal fear of failure." Conversational research can be equally transformative. Andy Bell, who dropped out of school at 16, found his life changed by conversations with hippie tradespeople on a building site. "I met some wonderful people who told me loads of stories about travelling," he recalls. "Hearing all these fantastic stories about driving to India, being at death's door with malaria, going to Morocco and staying with the Berber people—it all sounded so appealing." Inspired by these conversations, Andy spent six years traveling and working abroad, eventually becoming an organic farmer in England. These approaches work because they engage us with what psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls "flow"—that state of complete absorption where we lose track of time and feel fully alive. Through experimental projects, we discover which work gives us the best flow experience, along with meaning and purpose. Rather than trying to think our way to the right career, we learn through direct experience. The German poet Goethe captured this wisdom perfectly: "Then indecision brings its own delays, and days are lost lamenting o'er lost days. Are you in earnest? Seize this very minute; what you can do, or dream you can, begin it; boldness has genius, power and magic in it." In the search for fulfilling work, the first step isn't further reflection—it's action.

Chapter 5: The Freedom Dilemma: Balancing Security and Autonomy

In his book Good Work, economic thinker E.F. Schumacher beautifully articulates the "longing for freedom" that permeates modern society: "I don't want to join the rat race. Not be enslaved by machines, bureaucracies, boredom, ugliness. I don't want to become a fragment of a person... I want to do my own thing. I want to live (relatively) simply. I want to deal with people, not masks... I want to be able to care." This yearning resonates with many who feel unfulfilled in their jobs. They may suffer from chronic overwork, arriving home exhausted after stressful days and long commutes, too tired for hobbies, friendships, or family. They dislike constant supervision from demanding bosses and resent work invading their weekends through texts and emails. They speak of being "wage slaves" and dream of greater autonomy. Colin Ward, a distinguished anarchist thinker, offers insight into this desire for freedom. In his book Anarchy in Action, he asks why someone would happily garden after a long day at work: "He enjoys going home and digging in his garden because there he is free from foremen, managers and bosses. He is free from the monotony and slavery of doing the same thing day in day out, and is in control of the whole job from start to finish. The desire to 'be your own boss' is very common indeed." Fiona Robyn experienced both the challenges and rewards of this freedom after retraining as a counselor and later establishing "Writing Our Way Home," a small business offering online writing courses. "Being self-employed is wonderful and awful," she reflects. "There's no holiday or sick pay, no security. No development opportunities are offered to me unless I pay for them myself, and there's nobody to tell me I'm doing a good job or even notice how hard I'm working." Yet despite these drawbacks, Fiona wouldn't return to traditional employment: "I love being able to manage my own diary, build relationships with the people I want to build relationships with, and know that I'm forging my own way through the world of work." This sentiment echoes what the author found consistently: those who have tasted self-employment's freedom rarely want to return to conventional jobs. The dilemma extends beyond employment structure to our relationship with work itself. James Lam, an IT analyst who spent a decade in high-stress positions, describes work as "a form of voluntary enslavement." Despite good pay, the demands were extreme—his BlackBerry regularly woke him at 2 a.m. to fix urgent software problems. Like many, James dreamed of escaping the work ethic that drives us to feel guilty unless we're constantly productive. Joe Dominguez, co-author of Your Money or Your Life and a founder of the simple-living movement, took radical action to claim his freedom. Working as a Wall Street financial analyst, he observed, "Most people were not making a living, they were making a dying. They would come home from work a little deader than when they started out in the morning." He lived frugally, saved aggressively, and by thirty had accumulated enough to live on $6,000 annual interest. He resigned, bought a camper van, and embraced a life of frugal freedom. Few people will make such extreme choices, but even moderate shifts toward simplicity can transform our relationship with work. When Sameera Khan left her corporate law position for freelance work and social enterprise projects, her income dropped dramatically: "We are thousands of pounds a month down. How on earth did we used to spend that money? I am ashamed to say that I have no idea what I spent it on." Surprisingly, her quality of life improved: "I'm at home more, I see more of my friends, my family. I'm finally applying the 'waste not, want not' ethos of my parents' generation." The freedom dilemma extends to parenting as well. The struggle to "have it all"—a fulfilling career and an enriching family life—creates immense pressure, especially when cultural norms expect women to make career sacrifices for childcare while men continue working as before. But rethinking this dilemma reveals new possibilities. As Brian Campbell discovered after becoming a single father to four boys, parenting itself can lead to unexpected career directions. What began as keeping bees to teach his children about nature evolved into a career as an urban beekeeper. Freedom in work takes many forms—self-employment, reduced hours, simpler living, or reimagining work-family balance. What unites these approaches is the courage to challenge conventional expectations and create space for what truly matters. As American explorer Chris McCandless wrote before his death in the Alaskan wilderness: "So many people live with unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservatism...in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future."

Chapter 6: Growing a Vocation: From Exploration to Commitment

Marie Curie, born into an impoverished family of Polish intellectuals in 1867, dreamed of studying medicine in Paris. Financial constraints forced her to work as a governess for five years, saving every penny while reading mathematics and anatomy books late into the night. Finally arriving in Paris at age 24, she began medical studies but gradually found herself drawn to research in chemistry and physics. What followed was an extraordinarily intensive scientific career spanning four decades. Curie typically worked twelve to fourteen hours daily, continuing at home until 2 a.m. after leaving the laboratory. In 1897, she began studying radiation with her husband Pierre, leading to their discovery of radium a year later. Four years of work in a drafty shed followed as they further explored radium's properties and polonium, another element she discovered. Her brilliance earned her Nobel Prizes in Physics (1903) and Chemistry (1911), making her France's first female university professor and one of the world's most famous scientists. Curie lived an almost monastic lifestyle, surviving on buttered bread and tea for weeks, often fainting from hunger. She shunned fame and material comforts, preferring an unfurnished home. When offered a wedding dress, she insisted on something "practical and dark, so that I can put it on afterwards to go to the laboratory." Before her death in 1934, she summarized her philosophy: "We must believe that we are gifted for something, and that this thing, at whatever cost, must be attained." What can we learn from Curie's remarkable journey? Perhaps most importantly, her story challenges a widespread assumption about vocations. Many people believe a vocation comes in a flash of enlightenment—a moment when we suddenly know exactly what we're meant to do. But Curie never experienced such an epiphany. Her dedication to radiation research developed gradually over years of scientific work. After initially wanting to become a doctor, she researched steel magnetization, and only at age 30 began studying uranium rays. Her purpose crystallized slowly, without any dramatic revelation. This reveals a profound truth: vocations are grown, not found. A vocation—work that not only provides fulfillment but has a definitive purpose that drives your life—typically emerges through sustained engagement with meaningful work. Rather than waiting passively for inspiration, we cultivate purpose through action and commitment. Even after identifying potential paths through experimental projects, many people hesitate at the final step of making a change. Sameera Khan, who resigned from her corporate law job, recalls this challenge: "I went to an amazing career coach. After a couple of sessions she said, 'Well, you know you've got to quit your job, otherwise you'll be stuck in this despair forever. Once you quit, some of the fog will be lifted.'" They set a date two months away, which Sameera thought was too soon. "And of course I wasn't going to do it otherwise," she admits. "So I did quit on July 1. Ultimately, when you want to quit your job you just have to do it." This wisdom—that there comes a point when you must stop thinking and simply act—appears throughout history. The Roman poet Horace advised "carpe diem" (seize the day). Rabbi Hillel the Elder asked, "And if not now, when?" The Danish philosopher Kierkegaard described a "leap of faith." These traditions recognize that life is short, and meaningful existence requires courage. The 1964 film "Zorba the Greek" offers perhaps the most memorable expression of this philosophy. After an elaborate cable system designed to bring logs down a mountainside collapses on its first trial, destroying their business venture before it begins, the free-spirited Zorba tells his bookish English companion: "Damn it boss, I like you too much not to say it. You've got everything except one thing: madness! A man needs a little madness, or else he never dares cut the rope and be free." The Englishman, finally understanding that life must be lived with passion, asks Zorba to teach him to dance. He has learned that to move beyond our fears, we must embrace experimentation and discover the bit of madness within us all. This approach—combining thoughtful exploration with decisive action—represents the essence of growing a vocation. We explore possibilities through experimental projects, reflect on what gives us meaning and flow, simplify our lives to create space for what matters, and finally summon the courage to commit. Through this process, purpose often emerges not as a single dramatic revelation but as a gradually unfolding path. As the philosopher and spiritual thinker C.S. Lewis observed, most of us desire to be part of an "inner ring" of esteemed people, but we "will reach no 'inside' that is worth reaching" since there are always more exclusive circles beyond. True fulfillment comes not from chasing status or security, but from cultivating work that allows us to express our values, develop our talents, and serve purposes larger than ourselves.

Summary

The journey toward meaningful work is rarely a straight path—it's more like a winding river with unexpected turns, occasional rapids, and periods of calm reflection. Throughout these stories of transformation, certain truths emerge with striking clarity. While society often measures success through salary and status, the most fulfilled individuals prioritize different currencies: the opportunity to express values, develop talents, experience flow, and enjoy genuine autonomy. Rob's panic attack in the consulting firm, Sameera's beachside epiphany, Wayne's devotion to an obscure medieval sport—these moments reveal how external success can diverge dramatically from internal fulfillment. Perhaps the most liberating insight is that finding meaningful work requires us to flip conventional wisdom on its head. Rather than endlessly analyzing and planning before taking action, we must embrace experimentation—whether through radical sabbaticals like Laura's thirty-job odyssey, branching projects that test new directions alongside existing work, or conversations that expand our imagination beyond familiar territory. This "act first, reflect later" philosophy acknowledges a profound truth: we discover who we are through experience, not introspection alone. Like Marie Curie, whose vocation emerged gradually through decades of scientific exploration, we grow into our purpose rather than finding it fully formed. The quest for meaningful work ultimately requires courage—the willingness to challenge societal expectations, simplify our lives to create space for what matters, and occasionally embrace what Zorba called the "madness" needed to cut the rope and be free. This journey isn't about discovering a perfect job that magically resolves all tensions between security and meaning, money and purpose, ambition and balance. Instead, it's about creating work that reflects our multifaceted selves and evolves as we do. By approaching career transformation as an ongoing conversation between who we are and what we do, we open ourselves to the possibility of not just finding work that pays the bills, but cultivating work that nourishes the soul.

About Author

Loading...

Roman Krznaric

Roman Krznaric is a social philosopher who writes about the power of ideas to create change. His latest book is the international bestseller The Good Ancestor: How to Think Long Term in a Short-Term World. His previous books, including Empathy, The Wonderbox, How to Find Fulfilling Work and Carpe Diem Regained, have been published in more than 25 languages. He is Senior Research Fellow at Oxford University’s Centre for Eudaimonia and Human Flourishing and founder of the world’s first Empathy Museum. His new book, History for Tomorrow: Inspiration from the Past for the Future of Humanity, is published in July 2024.

Read more