Just Enough

With great apprehension, I’ve recently been reunited with college classmates through weddings and happenstance. I had fears that people would ask me about my career since pharmacy school was our greatest common factor. Each time, it happened. And each time, my response surprised people:

Me: “I work at a children’s hospital.”

Them: “Doing… ?”

Me: “Staffing.”

They always look a bit confused. Perhaps they’re wondering, “That’s it? She’s just a staff pharmacist?” Just.

I had a preceptor during my residency tell me he hated that word. He said it oversimplified. His biggest pet peeve was when people proposed solutions using the word, such as, “Can’t Pharmacy just do it?”

During my graduation, a classmate asked me what I would be doing afterward. I told her I planned to work as a staff pharmacist at a retail pharmacy. She said, “Oh, I thought you’d be doing more than that.” While not stated, it was implied. Just.

But what if we reframed “just” to “enough?” Just implies “less than.” Why is an honest, simple job that pays the bills not enough? Why does my job seem less than what people expect of me?

These questions prompted me to begin listening to Simone Stolzoff’s book The Good Enough Job. In it, Stolzoff questions American work culture and how it has evolved over the years. Why is it that we work so much when, in the past, it was always a means to an end? Why are so many of us brainwashed into believing our value is solely measured by our economic output? While he doesn’t necessarily tell you how to fix your relationship to work, he sheds insight on this complex issue through stories of others navigating their relationships with work.

The chapter I found most relatable was chapter eight, where Stolzoff explores work in relation to status. The core story of this chapter revolves around a banker, Khe Hy, who spent most of his childhood and early adult years chasing money and status after seeing his family struggle financially and feeling like an outcast growing up as an immigrant. And he succeeded. Hy was making a million dollars a year and swiftly moving up the corporate ladder before the age of thirty. What stuck out to me, though, was that he stated he felt nothing even as he achieved more and more.

I realize I was guilty of the same. A moment that stands out most is when I set a goal to achieve Rho Chi in college. For those unfamiliar, Rho Chi is an honor society that recognizes academic excellence in pharmacy only rewarded to the top 20% of the class. At the time, a friend who was senior to me was on the Rho Chi executive board with the inside scoop. She told my friends I made the GPA cut-off for induction but made them promise not to tell me because it was a surprise. However, once it was announced, I found that I didn’t feel anything. I didn’t actually… care. It was just another tick in my list of achievements. Before I even had the membership invitation in my hands, I was already looking for the next box to check. As Stolzoff puts it, I was chasing resume virtues.

The chapter also explores the idea that schools and workplaces offer clear ladders to climb. They come with externally defined values and measures of success that can easily sway ill-defined resolve. I sheepishly admit this was me my entire life. I’ve already clarified some of my values in a previous piece, but I’d also like to paint a picture of what success looks like to me.

A while back on one of my many endless doomscrolls through TikTok, I stumbled upon a video that featured a creator interviewing people walking down Wall Street. He stops one man and asks what he does for a living. Afterward, the interviewer comments on how his demeanor is different. While the interviewee’s story proved he had a wildly successful career, he wasn’t in a rush. Unlike everyone else, he exuded calm with no sense of urgency to make it to the next major meeting or score the next big sale. The man replied that his perspective on money was that it was a tool for him to spend his time how he wanted. Contrary to his peers, his time and effort weren’t solely dedicated to making more money. His goal and definition of success was to earn enough money to spend more time doing what was important to him.

So, what is my definition of success? How do I want to be spending my time? In a world where I’ll leave only taking my memories and experiences, what is truly important to me? What makes me happy?

Exercising

Movement consistently makes me feel good, from weightlifting to pickleball, even if it’s only a slight pride for showing up. Then, after it’s over, I’m hit with a burst of energy and optimism to tackle the challenges ahead. Some days, I don’t make it there. Some days, I need to drag myself there. But every time I go back and make the decision to do something difficult, it builds my confidence. And that confidence spreads.

Writing

While I don’t always have the inspiration to write, it gives me mental clarity. My internal dialogue is equivalent to a child with ADHD - easily distracted with no clear train of thought. To ensure my voice is heard by me and not as easily swayed by the pressures of the world, I write. My struggle is that sometimes, I try to write for others, which stunts my inspiration. However, as Rick Rubin puts it in The Creative Act: A Way of Being:

In terms of priority, inspiration comes first. You come next. The audience comes last.

Connecting

In a recent mindfulness lesson, I learned that the difference between activities that satiate pleasure and those that induce fulfillment is the presence of craving. Craving precedes pleasure, and when we give in, it overshadows the temporary dopamine hit. Conversely, when we take actions that align with more meaningful values, like helping a friend, feelings of well-being are more significant and last longer. In my own experience, I find this to be true. My memories of indulging in ice cream are forgettable. However, the moments when I did something meaningful for others still resonate with me today.

Play, Growth & Well-Being

While the verbs above are very specific to the activities I enjoy at this point in my life, I recognize that they can change. What interests me today may no longer hold my fancy tomorrow. That’s okay. I’m still figuring it out. However, the common elements that tie them together are play, growth, and well-being. I go to a fight conditioning class every week with no intention of actually fighting anyone. I transcribe my thoughts and feelings into intelligible words to improve my mental fortitude. I slow down to be kind to others because being nice feels good. With this, I’ve concluded that as long as I spend my time happily challenging myself and having fun - that is a success. That is just enough.