Elan Kluger 26’s op-ed reveals his own myopic, naive misunderstanding of the relationship between work and purpose. Kluger misconstrues criticism leveled against aspiring financiers or consultants as defensiveness masking latent “careerism.” It’s a pity you’re a cynic, Kluger. Because you’re wrong: Some people are motivated by passion.
Kluger mistakenly equates a desire for basic financial stability with a passionless, unquenchable drive for wealth. Does anyone enter academia for the money? Is the Ph.D. student who strives for a little job security just as avaricious as the careerists who, Kluger claims, “cannot hide behind transcendent values” in vocations that lack justifiable “importance or relevance?”
Does Kluger truly believe that money alone motivates students through the notoriously grueling ordeal that is medical training? None of my friends in medical school would agree with his compassionless characterization of their aspirations. Perhaps wealth is the sole inspiration for a few aspiring doctors, but I’ve found that those folks drop out early on. Why? Because they wouldn’t become successful physicians. There are easier ways to make a lot of money.
Alternatively, consider my coworker at Rauner Library, who left his successful career as a physician to pursue a new passion. He now works as a Rare Book and Manuscript Metadata Librarian. He’s earning less, but he’d tell you that his position at Rauner is a far better fit.
Naturally, money plays a role, to some extent, in all career calculations. However, Kluger fails to distinguish between those who pursue financial stability through a career they find meaningful, and those who are driven primarily by their paycheck. To be clear, I don’t view the latter with blanket contempt. My criticism isn’t even criticism. Rather, it’s a mourning of the passion that can seemingly evaporate with post-grad’s shiniest lure: a six-figure salary.
I can’t blame Dartmouth alumni who follow this lure and go stick to its path; it’s well-marked, well-paid and well-traveled, unlike many others. But I worry that talented Dartmouth students too often make this choice out of fear, not passion. And we should not so readily hand over the reins of our lives to uncertainty about our next step. Engaging with our passions, respecting our morals and accepting a bit of uncertainty is brave. My praise for this bravery rings much louder than my criticism for the consultants and financiers who may lack it.
Another coworker at Rauner Library has a term for this period of career soul-searching that befalls the anti-careerist twenty-something: “the drift.” He says that his years of drifting between jobs were some of the most meaningful of his life. Now, he has settled and loves his work.
Embracing the “drift” is not a cure-all for happiness, either. But if you don’t know exactly how your life will pan out at 21, you aren’t “falling behind.” The race is an illusion. Each year is just as meaningful and lived-in as the year that came before and the year that will come after.
Or, take my liberal-arts-major friend who spent an off-term consulting at BCG and found himself on a project that forced layoffs at a local store. I’m oversimplifying, but at this job, he played a role in other people losing their jobs. He searched the store employees’ Facebook profiles, mulling over who would most acutely feel the burn of the firings. Many jobs can nudge you off the tidy path of the morals you’ve imagined for yourself, but a fat paycheck can make it too easy to turn a blind eye to your work’s emotional, human toll. That friend took Boston Consulting Group’s return offer.
This is a tricky time to make this argument: a recession is looming, and in a period ruled by uncertainty, a stable career feels sensible. I have flirted with the idea of a careerist path, because the drift scares me. But after I graduated this past June and began working full-time, I learned an obvious lesson that I didn’t grasp as an undergraduate: the vast majority of my life will be spent working. I doubt Kluger fully understands this fact.
I wonder if Kluger’s opinion is clouded by the unreality of undergraduate life. Right now, Kluger still has the time and intellectual flexibility to write op-eds, publish a Substack and study liberal-artsy subjects like the History of Political Ideas.
I dream of becoming a writer. I harbor no illusions about this dream. Creative fields are impossibly competitive, and I will need to make enough money to live — and how much is “enough?” But this reality doesn’t mean I plan to “sell out.” Instead, I am pursuing a career in the mental health industry. I believe this path aligns with the motivations that underlie my enthusiasm for writing: my love of people and their stories. I will also continue writing and sharing, even if my family and friends are the only ones who read my work. I want to craft a life that makes space for my passions because these passions are also my life.
Money is the central motivator for some of our peers. But Kluger should not assume that we’re all closeted careerists. Some of us aren’t done dreaming. If that dream is just a fantasy, or temporary drift, then so be it. I will be glad to have lived enough to fail.
Kira Parrish-Penny is a member of the Class of 2024. Guest columns represent the views of their author(s), which are not necessarily those of The Dartmouth.
