How a Bunch of Dorks Forced Me to Believe in Myself Against My Will: An Ode to Team Jobbatical
I meant to write this several months ago, when I left my job at Jobbatical. But there was a pandemic and I got a cat and went to Brazil and it was like a whole thing and then I started a company and honestly it’s just been a lot.
Jobbatical was my first “real” job when I finally threw myself into the workforce as an elderly 25-year-old. Until then, I’d been doing some writing and editing, some English tutoring, some this and that, and a whole bunch of wondering where my life was going.
Karoli Hindriks hired me based on little more than a mutual friend’s recommendation and a gut feeling. I had a grand total of zero qualifications and the self-confidence of a sea slug. I mean, I thought I could write, and that I was pretty funny. I just didn’t think anyone else should or would ever think so.
If you’ve experienced the energy sink that is impostor syndrome, you know that some days you’re fine, and some days you know only that you’re unqualified to be the dirt under the fingernails of incompetence itself.
I didn’t know anything about life, my potential, or the kind of career path I wanted or was equipped for. But suddenly I was working at this snazzy little startup and being told that people liked what I was doing.
So I trudged along, slowly gaining confidence and getting better at my job. A couple of raises, a couple of promotions. New skills, new knowledge, and gradually solidifying ideas about what I wanted to do with my life. Learning to accept and believe positive feedback while also managing not to die of sadness and assumed worthlessness in the face of criticism.
This was only possible because of the people of Jobbatical, who literally taught me how to believe in myself.
Starting with the inimitable Karoli Hindriks herself, of course. The world’s okayest boss by far (that’s not mean; it’s a little joke we do and I got her the mug and everything), Karoli infected me with the radical notion that I was good at some things and could be trusted with them.
It was never blind trust — when I wasn’t hitting the mark, she called me out. When I was hitting the mark, she made sure I knew it. When I completely transcended the boundaries of who I am as a person and, for the first time in my life, asked for a raise, she gently scolded me for not asking for a bigger one.
Then there were those who said my writing had helped them decide to move to Estonia. Those who laughed at my jokes (yes, this has been crucial to my growth as a professional!), trusted my judgment, asked me for advice, and picked me up when I was down. Those who helped me learn from my mistakes, rather than crumple under the weight of them.
I got so much love and support from the people I worked with and for, that by the time I quit Jobbatical in 2020, I was unrecognizable as the anxiety-stricken sea slug of my youth. I’d gone from sales assistant to copywriter to content strategist. I’d made incredible friends. I’d done so much I was proud of. I’d become the undisputed office DJ and everyone just let me play whatever I wanted. For which I sincerely apologize, by the way. I swear I have no idea how Despacito got on my playlist.
I still had, and have, a million insecurities and countless anxieties, because that’s what I’m working with here. But somewhere along the line I had evolved from a sea slug to a majestic — what’s marginally more confident than a sea slug? — let’s say seahorse? I had some faith in myself and my abilities, some vague idea that I was valuable and valued and capable of growth. Worthy of defining my idea of success and going after it. (Not sure why I chose to crap on sea slugs, by the way. I wish I had the beauty and sheer unapologetic flamboyance of a Nudibranch.)
And then, those total dorks, those exceptional human beings of Jobbatical who had already been so spectacularly encouraging all these years — they out-dorked themselves by a country mile and put me on their goddamn About Us page the day I left.
Yes, there is a “Read more” button, which takes you to a blog post that Karoli wrote and got quotes for from the team. It says all sorts of insanely moving things.
Now, at this point, I was sobbing grossly and ruining my last-day-of-work makeup, so it wasn’t my most poiseful moment by any stretch of the imagination.
But here’s the thing. While I was trying to handle the emotional load of being immortalized on this website with my roots showing (thanks, Miguel), I also had the final epiphany of my time at Jobbatical.
I had wasted way too much of my life believing on some deep level that I was worthless. Here were all these immensely talented, intelligent, shrewd people saying I had taught them something. That I’d meant something to them and the company I was leaving.
At which point I pretty much had two options left:
- Assume they were wrong or making fun of me (my gut instinct!);
- Believe them (very counterintuitive!).
The cognitive dissonance of not believing these people — some of the finest I’ve ever met — would have been too great. I had no choice. As their final act of kindness, team Jobbatical literally forced me to believe in myself.
Those jerks.
This was very rude of them, mind you, because I rode that high aaalllll the way to believing I could successfully co-run a content agency. Which I now have to do. So thanks for that, jerks!
I could, and probably eventually will, write many volumes about my five years at Jobbatical. But there’s one thing I learned that I am physically incapable of not sharing with the world right this instant:
When you appreciate someone, tell them. And when someone tells you they appreciate you, believe them.
Is that how you change the world? I don’t know. But that’s how Jobbatical changed me, and it meant the world.
