What Do You Do?

Ugh, I hate that question...

I’ve had an urge lately to write about the ‘what do you do?’ question. You know the one. It’s the question that almost everyone you meet for the first time, asks. I recently read an essay by Soozi Baggs, here on substack. She mentioned the ‘what do you do?’ question in her recent essay, Who I Am, in amongst a more general discussion about identity and no longer having a convenient job title. Soozi’s essay resonated with me on a couple of levels, and the nagging of the ‘what do you do,’ thing became so strong, that I couldn’t ignore it any longer, so here I am, needing to write about it.

Photo by Eden Constantino on Unsplash

For a long while after my divorce, I entered the world of internet dating. And this was the one question that I always dreaded. I’d spent all of my twenties in conventional employment, working all the hours. Then, I met my (ex) husband and we started a business and a family together. So far, so easily explained in job titles. What did I do? Easy. I was a recruitment manager, hr manager, (yawn), mother, company director and co-owner of a small business. This usually went on to further questions about what the business did and when I told them we sold printer cartridges online, that usually shut them up. But it was all very easy for most people to understand and categorise. I was a career-type person, with a successful business, pop me in that box and move on. But then, divorce and single-parenthood. ‘What do you do?’ became more complicated. I never wanted to discuss my financial reality with prospective ‘dates’, and this usually left them frustrated, which box could they pop me in to? They had to fill in the gaps for themselves and it was usually offensive which assumption they pulled out of the bag for that purpose.

Then, socially, with other women. ‘What do you do?’ is also there to categorise. People are trying to work you out. I live up north, but I’m originally from the south-east. I have a fairly neutral regional accent, having lived in Cardiff, all over London, and now up here for twenty years. It’s a bit of a mash-up and shifts depending upon who I’m talking with. But you’d be surprised how many people in the north have said that I’m ‘posh,’ because of my accent. That’s the UK for you. And then when you don’t have a clear answer to the ‘what do you do?’ question, you really don’t fit in.

All of this has meant that I’ve dreaded the ‘what do you do,’ question in the past. However, I then read something somewhere about owning stuff about yourself. (Sorry, I really can’t remember who it was or where it was.) If you don’t have a conventional, ‘I’m a postman/manager/electrician/business owner’ answer then ‘invent or embellish’, is the way to go. I started saying occasionally that I was an artist, (I draw in my spare time), a poet, (I did an MA once in creative writing), a general ‘writer,’ (journals count, right?), or ‘parent,’ which, despite being the absolute hardest and most physically and emotionally exhausting job in the world, still confuses people as an actual job of work! This then became problematic in its own way as these titles weren’t enough, people basically were asking how I made a living. These job titles aren’t known for their commercial success ordinarily.

Then, I thought, ‘fuck it,’ and I started owning my freedom from labels.

‘I generally do what I like,’ became my answer. When they looked on the brink of trying to get to the financial bottom of this, as I ‘don’t look old enough to be retired,’ (apparently), I furnished them with the information that ‘I’ve worked enough for money in my life/ I’ve made enough money in my life/ I don’t need any more,’ or words to that effect. That usually put an end to the conversation.

They still didn’t have a convenient answer, they still couldn’t quite fit me into a convenient box, but we’d lurched into the open arena of money talk, and that’s enough to make anyone back off round here. It’s ok if you allude to it, subtly, but if you’re a bit straight talking about it, nah, ooh, scary! They would still make assumptions of course. A couple of men have assumed that I ‘took the husband for all he was worth,’ in my divorce. Nope, quite the opposite actually. A neighbour once alluded to the possibility that I might be a sex worker. (Yep, really.) A friend once suggested that I came from a wealthy background. Again, no, quite the opposite actually. Very few people have assumed that I bloody well worked my arse off to be in the position I was in. Quite a few people, young and old, men and women, have labelled me at that stage as a ‘lady who lunches.’ Fuckwits.

So, now, faced with the question, ‘what do you do?’ I usually say I’ve taken early retirement and I’m living my best life / doing creative things. If I’m feeling particularly pissy that day, I’ll tell them that in my past I’ve been a retail sales assistant, a postal worker, a babysitter, a student, a recruitment manager, HR bod, massage therapist, (they didn’t see that one coming), a nail technician, a poet, (nor that one), a full-time single parent, a dog walker, an owner of a french rental, a small business owner, and an artisan cheese specialist. Categorise that.

Then, before they have a chance to process that lot, I’ll turn it around to them in what I hope is more of a ‘who are you?’ type of way.

It’s a strategy of sorts, but I still hate the ‘what do you do?’ question. If you can come up with a better strategy to avoid all this in the first place, please let me know!