Why the best job I've ever had isn't on my resume
In 2017, I quit my job as the associate director of a statewide nonprofit and worked at the front desk of a massage therapy studio.
It made no sense.
You won't see it on my resume.
But it's the most meaningful career move I've made.
Here's why:
Before I made the move, I tested the idea with trusted friends and colleagues, fully aware of what a departure it would be from the forward and up career climb that I expected from myself and felt the world expected from me.
When I met my friend Aiyah at a doughnut shop to talk it over, I told him about how burned out I was.
--> That I tried scaling back my hours, shifting responsibilities.
--> That I lost my sense of drive and creativity for my work.
--> That I felt too anxious to sleep at night, so instead I watched episodes of Planet Earth and waited for David Attenborough's soothing voice to calm me.
--> That other pursuits were calling to me—like taking care of my mom (who was sick with cancer), spending time with my two year old daughter, and my work on the side as a professional coach, which was where I felt most myself.
--> That I was scared of what it would mean to make a change—like if I stepped off the escalator, I'd never be able to get back on again.
He was right.
I messaged the owner of a massage studio, responding to her Facebook post in search of a Client Care Specialist. We had met at a conference briefly two years before when she gave me a five minute chair massage in the lobby and we talked about our babies, who were to arrive weeks apart. She remembered me.
When I walked into the massage studio for the first time, it was like landing on another planet.
The calm, quiet atmosphere was nothing like my open office environment. It smelled of lavender. Instead of the tapping of keys and other people's phone calls, I heard mellow folk music. I sat down in a soft teal chair and noticed a book about flora and fauna by David Attenborough on the coffee table.
My job would be to fold sheets, to answer the phone, to welcome clients. A far cry from all the hats I wore at the nonprofit. I wasn't responsible for the budget, troubleshooting IT issues, or facilitating tense staff meetings. I refilled the teapot and told Shannon, the owner, that her 2:30 was here.
It was bliss.
On the night before my first day of training, I met up with my friend Carly.
"My goal at this job is to not be special," I told her. "I don't want to become the person who knows all the passwords and solves all the problems. I'm not going to revolutionize their systems and make myself indispensable."
In past jobs, this had earned me the nickname of "Carole Annswer." I loved being an indispensable resource to everyone—but it also made me feel trapped and exhausted. I knew I needed to consciously change my approach to work.
Carly texted me early the next morning: "I've been thinking about what you said last night," she wrote. "I think you meant: Don't DO special. You can't help but BE special if you're being you. But you don't have to DO anything extra to earn that."
In the massage studio, I boiled the water for tea, started the music, and set up the aromatherapy distiller before settling down behind the front desk.
The universe has a sense of humor. Wouldn't you know, the very first person to walk in for an appointment was from my nonprofit life: Chris, who I had interviewed for the Development Director position at my nonprofit.
It felt like a test: How are you going to explain this career move, Carole Ann?
There's more than one way to tell the story of this job in my career path:
I was a senior level nonprofit leader, and I couldn't cut it. Something went terribly wrong, and I fell off the ladder I was climbing.
After an intense several years (a promotion at work, becoming a mom, and caring for my own mom), I needed a soft place to land while I put myself back together.
In order to pivot my career from nonprofit leadership to launching my own business, I needed a job that would serve as a bridge: solid, regular work that didn't require the best of me.
All of these stories are true.
For a moment, I worried about the story Chris would tell himself, seeing me there behind the desk.
It was time to let that go. I didn't care what Chris thought, because I knew this was the right step for me.
Working as a Client Care Specialist at the massage office was lovely. It wasn't a pivot into the wellness industry or even something I planned to include on my resume. But it did:
--> Provide me with stability and a base income, but didn't demand the best of my creativity.
--> Expose me to a whole new industry, helping me realize that the nonprofit culture that felt like The Only Way That Work Works was just one way in which work can work. (The massage therapists dressed in comfortable clothes, worked with their hands, set their schedules outside of the traditional 9-5.)
--> Give me time to heal—from the marathon of mission-driven work, a traumatic transition into motherhood, and the loss of my mom two weeks into the job.
--> Allow me to broaden my network by building relationships with people outside of the nonprofit community.
--> Widen my understanding of what a job can be, outside of a Forward & Up step towards the top.
--> Serve as a springboard for launching my own business. I didn’t have to feel like I was jumping off a cliff in starting my own gig—I had a foundation.
--> Enable me to slow down and rewire myself—to let go of old rules about my work and create new ones that I never knew were possible.
Four months into my work at the front desk, I officially launched Penney Leadership. After a year, my business had grown to the point where it needed more of my time.
I helped the owner find my replacement, and our relationship evolved from employer/employee to fellow entrepreneurs. To this day, she’s one of my most trusted collaborators—we constantly help each other think through business strategy and leadership challenges.
I wish I could go back to visit the unsure, exhausted, and scared version of myself who was waffling about what it would mean to leave the hamster wheel.
She was so scared of what would happen if she got off the escalator that she felt expected to ride to the top.
I would tell her: There is so much more available to you than that one path. You can trust yourself to create your own opportunities. You'll make an impact that is truly meaningful to you. And—even better—you'll experience work not as a grueling, upward slog but as an enjoyable ride.
The most meaningful career move I ever made happened only when I recognized that my exhaustion and disengagement at work were more than just tiredness—they were valuable data that led me to make a change.
My work still takes a lot of my energy, but because I took the time to heal, regroup, and craft a way forward that aligns with my values, it activates my energy as well.
Ask yourself:
- What do you feel is "expected" of you as you navigate your career path?
- If you could step off the path you're on, what would you be excited to explore?
- What are you afraid will happen if you do?
