Heisler knows firsthand the value of such a journey of self-discovery.
Originally, she chose law because her pharmacist-father thought it'd be a good field for a bright, creative, articulate woman like his daughter (she'd been voted "Friendliest Person" of her senior high school class). But the law, as you may know, isn't the friendliest profession. It's filled with conflict and adversarial relationships, and it took Heisler only a few years of practicing law to figure out she didn't like it.
As she looked for clues to her next career choice, she thought about her college major, which was advertising. She decided to pursue a position in marketing-advertising's first cousin-and subsequently landed a brand-management job at Kraft Foods.
If not her ultimate calling, it did prove to be a good outlet for both her creativity (which made her great at positioning new products) and her outgoing personality (which made her excellent at client development).
She also discovered something new about herself, which leads to the next point.
Marketing was definitely a better choice for Heisler than law. But it wasn't ideal. It involved too much number-crunching for a woman who had never liked math much. Having changed careers once, she found herself again on the lookout for other options.
As it turns out, Heisler didn't have to search hard for her next career direction. Essentially, it came to her. Other attorneys, who'd found out about her successful career change, kept contacting her to ask how they could do the same. When she discovered how much demand there was for such information and how much she enjoyed counseling other lawyers on their options, she founded Law alternatives, a career-consulting firm that advises lawyers in transition. For her, the hardest part of becoming a career counselor was giving up the job title of "lawyer." Even as a brand manager for Kraft, she'd referred to herself as a "lawyer who was doing marketing."
In many ways, the question "What do you want to be when you grow up?" is itself problematic. When what you do for a living becomes synonymous with who you are as person, you may feel trapped into choosing an identity instead of an occupation. Under these circumstances, it's no wonder many young people default into high-status professions. Not only will they garner better salaries this way, they'll also gain instant credibility and respect. With so much psychological gratification riding on the outcome, it's hard to choose more amorphous or vaguely defined fields. Never yet you may have a heard a child say, "I want to be a meeting planner when I grow up"-even though lots of meeting planners love their jobs. Nor do you hear parents actively encourage their kids to be physical therapists, even though it's the fastest-growing occupation in the United States.
It's easy to get caught up in the stereotypes. A youngster raised on TV's Law and Order may be drawn to the glamour of the courtroom drama, but television melodrama isn't the stuff of which good career choices are made.
There may be more than 26,000 occupations in the labor force, but to hear most people tell it, we would swear there were only three: doctor, lawyer and corporate executive.
Philadelphia career counselor Douglas Richardson acknowledges how difficult it can be to steer clear of jobs that are wrong for you when so many external factors are pushing you in the wrong direction. Under these conditions, it may be difficult to distinguish between what he calls your soul (basic temperament) and your role (outside factors that impinge on judgment).
What results is the classic recipe for career unrest: In an effort to please others or live up to societal ideals, you choose a career that's strikingly at odds with your essential nature.
Says Richardson: "Unless we're gifted with world-class objectivity, we find it hard to distinguish what we really want from what we think we ought to want, what others tell us we should want and what it's unrealistic to want. Is it any wonder we can't tell whether we're driving or being driven?"
Interestingly, though, the external trappings of professional respect may begin to seem unimportant when you find a truly satisfying career direction. For example, Heisler discovered that once she figured out what she really wanted to do and got involved with something she really loves, she lost the need to call herself "esquire."
"I have a job where I can be myself and be appreciated," says Heisler. "What better title can I wear?"
