“Gee Allyson, sure you wanna do this?” my co-workers said as I prepared to quit my job.
I was a tenured “direct hire” for the U.S. government, which meant iron clad job security for life. But despite my gold-plated healthcare insurance, the job felt light years away from my heart’s true calling.
I trudged to work every morning to the subway surrounded by trench coats, humming to myself, “The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah.” By most standards, it was a commendable job working for the U.S. agency that administered foreign aid. The job gave me the opportunity to serve others, but in a paper-pushing sort of way, not the impactful way I truly wanted.