Some people I know hate their jobs. They dread Monday; they savour the weekend. They love the nature of the job, but they hate the job itself – especially when there are deadline to keep, target to reach, and stress to handle.

Don’t get me wrong, even those who love their jobs dread Monday. It’s a universal thing, a cliché really, because we see weekdays as the killer-of-our-dreams-but-we-need-them-to-put-a-roof-above-our-head and we treat weekends as the days where we can be ourselves, living the dream lives.

I am always a firm believer of turning your passion into work. If you ought to work, forget the money for a second, pursue something that really aligns on your dream, because in the end, it’s something that will become worthwhile. It’s what matters.

That was before I got to work.


When I start working, I realise that first job is not as fancy as it looks. It’s not noble, brilliant, prestigious. It’s not going to be the thing that inspires you day and night and make you leap out from your bed at 7am with joy every morning.

After some time, like every Gen Y-er who has got a full-time job for the very first time, I got hit with the virus. “Is this worth it?” I often ask myself. “Is this going to take me one step closer to realising myself?” “Everyone says that you should work in something that you’re passionate about. Should I find another job that will benefit me better?”

“Should I do Master’s instead? A lot of my friends go straight to Master’s after finishing their Bachelor’s, while if I decide to go back to do Master’s again, I will be about one or two years behind them.”

“Should I start my own business, then?”

You know what those are? Doubt. We doubt if whether our decision is right, whether the gamble we took is going to be worth it.

I was having dinner with three of my high school friends last week and I’ve learned something else: when you are always open to other options, you will never focus, and in the end, you’ll always do something half-heartedly.


I haven’t seen this guy for three years and a half. Back then, we were two very different people who have never thought that we will have dreams as we have now: I want to be a writer, him, a networking business for life insurance.

And he said something that I exactly need to hear:

“I was up to one point in my life where I was considering my options, whether to search for new jobs or go back to do Master’s,” he said.

“Then my parents sit with me and tell me about the heart of the business I’m working on.

“From then on, it’s all a matter of choice.”

I nodded in agreement. I have always known this in theory, but for the news to sink in, it needs another thirty minutes of laying on the bed, thinking on the attitude I have brought upon my current job.

You can’t do things half-heartedly, I thought. Or else whatever you are doing, they will only become half-baked.

And I know, I am doing things half-heartedly. I am still considering other options. I wonder whether I have made the right decision.

Perhaps, as Don Miller said, I should feel like no job is beneath me. Scrub the toilet if you have to, although I really doubt that I ever have the will.