Stop pretending you hate work.
I know you’re not supposed to say this, but I live to work...
To Miranda Priestly,
And every workaholic.
I’ve had more jobs than relationships—and don’t get that confused, I love love. But one of my longest-standing crushes is my career.
I’ve worked in a Schnitzel shop, led designer runways and hosted events filled with strangers. I’ve been an extra in a short film, poured coffee as a barista and written for a local newspaper. I’ve worked in-house, agency-side and freelance. Plus, I’ve even dabbled in nepotism: working precisely three shifts in my dad’s pharmacy.
I’ve always lived to work.
From the day I could work, I did. I still remember the high of my first paycheck. The independence I unzipped as I bought a hideously orange purse. Pride, because it was earned. After hours of schmoozing customers and smelling ever so slightly of oil, making a purchase felt like Moses splitting the sea. The waves of capitalism split before me and welcomed me in.
I’m hyper aware of how easily work can become validation disguised as ambition or escape masked as achievement. More work can provide more money and more money creates more opportunities and more freedom and more luxuries. Equally, more is not always good, which is why I believe my love of work would persist regardless.
Exhibit A: this very substack. It isn’t paying my rent and I’m doing it anyway. Equally, the book I’m writing, the short film I’d like to get produced and the new one I’m beginning to write are projects that take up time and resources, while the reward sits in ambiguity. Inevitably, I can’t help asking: Am I just caught up in the chase? Am I addicted to the mystery?
On the phone this morning, I spoke to a friend who postponed a big trip to prioritise work. An experience he is still eager to have, but lately, a newfound sense of motivation has pulled his attention elsewhere.
Similarly, I recently went to Paris to sense check if I could see myself living there. While nothing beats a warm €1.50 croissant fresh out of the oven, my trip reaffirmed that I want to be in London—predominantly for my career.
It’s why I initially moved halfway across the world, and it’s a huge portion of why I’ve stayed here. I’d be lying if I said my career hasn’t always been a top priority.
Still, turning down a social plan for work feels criminal. My body has always crawled with apprehension. Am I a bad friend? Am I the girl boss or finance bro we’ve told to get fucked? I don’t want to give up the long call with my dad. The wine, fries and hearty conversation or the lazy read in a park. The spontaneous drawing session or evening cooking with my housemates.
But, in the same way we make time for the people and pursuits we love, it’s okay to give some of ourselves to work too.
Watching you in The Devil Wears Prada 2, I noticed something beyond the frivolous outfits and overt product placements. How you straddle a cool, stoic persona to lead a global fashion publication, while your softened demeanour rewards Andy Sachs’ high-achieving and people-pleasing nature. How within every issue, there are pages of dedication, creativity, inspiration, curiosity and connection.
It may not be groundbreaking, but on my way home, I realised my love of work was not the prestige, pay, perks or productivity. What keeps me coming back is far more elusive.
Like a good magazine, I treat work like a glossy cover. It’s a shiny stack of stories, collaged with a collection of pictures, thoughts, ideas and memories. It’s neatly curated for consumption and is representative of me because my best work is laced with authenticity.
It energises me in the same way I find my morning coffee ritualistic, and to me, there’s nothing like the satisfaction of black splotches jumping onto a blank page at full speed. When my fingers tap against my laptop keys in a rhythmic beat, it’s more intoxicating than one of your approving nods, because it provides another outlet to so many of my loves.
So, I’m not going to act like I hate being there.
At the end of the film, I smiled as my own opinion came out of your mouth.
“I love working.”
And, as you’d put it… That’s all.
Love this! And relate a lot <3
Saw something recently about how humans are wired to create rather than consume, and in the internet era we are consuming far more than we are creating. I feel like if "work" is an opportunity to create something new in the world, the feeling you're talking about makes a lot of sense xx
this is so interesting Amanda! I recently took a month off work while travelling and I felt kind of understimulated and I was so inspired to get back to work (although I think the time off helped cultivate this feeling)