When to call it quits?

I'm ready to move on. I really am. Recent developments in my job have turned waning enthusiasm into a concrete desire to leave the business altogether.
My problem -- and I'm sure others have dealt with this -- is that it feels like I'd be starting over. Not necessarily failure (although that is mixed in there), just hitting a big reset button at a stage in life where I've finally gotten a chance to breathe easy.
I still cover preps at a small shop. I made my peace with it years ago. I was probably never going to get rich no matter where I went, and putting in the massive time and energy it'd take to move on and succeed at a large college or pro beat got less and less appealing as I got older. So I entrenched at my current shop, got to the point where enough people know me that the job is fairly easy, and worked hard to be a success here. I'm proud of the work I've done over the years.

And now, after all this time, it feels like I don't know a damn thing. I don't have experience at anything other than newspapers. As fast as technology is advancing, even that feels like it's passing me by. We haven't done a ton of video or social media stuff at my shop so my skills there are lacking.
I'm reasonably intelligent, learn and adapt fast, and have the intangibles and instincts of a good journalist ... which are hard to translate into concrete skills in a job interview. If my resume even gets that far.
I really don't want to go back to school. I don't want to take a shitty job making $9 an hour just to spend several years learning the ropes of another dead-end business I'll be miserable at.
Moving to another shop isn't an option. As with a lot of places, moving to a new job in our area would likely mean moving to a new area. Neither my wife nor myself want to do that.
I'm OK taking a small step back if the prospect for advancement is there. I'm not above paying my dues in a new industry. But I'm in my mid-30s and married. I don't want to go back -- and, entitled as it sounds, shouldn't have to go back -- to living like a 22-year-old, just out of college and eating ramen noodles every night. I feel like I'm better than that. I know I'm better than that, dammit.

So, I'm stuck. Can't go forward, can't go back, can't stay where I am much longer. It's a hard pill to swallow and a tougher puzzle to solve. I'm not sure what the answers are. Or maybe I do and just don't want to hear them.

 

I think this is it, exactly.

This might mean that you're not really ready to move on, especially if you don't have to, or are not forced to do so by your employer.

But if you've decided you are ready to make the jomp, you'll have to turn off all the reasons why you can't, and quit focusing on all the things you don't really want to do, and do something -- before you reach your mid-40s and still feel the same way, only worse, and still need to make the same changes.

A career transition is not impossible then, either, of course. But it will be even harder then, and the choice about doing it may be less up to you at that point. Furthermore, these feelings you're having now may be even more pronounced and the problem even more difficult to solve. I know because it is exactly the move(s) I was forced to make.

Yes, you might have to live like a college kid for a while, or your spouse might have to take on more of the financial responsibilities in the marriage.

But realize that if and when you do make the change for good, you will probably be at the point, then, that the only thing you'll be wishing is that you would have been doing your new endeavor 10 years earlier.

It does get better.

It's a very hard transition, but you'll need to lose the idea that all the jobs you consider to be "shitty" right now are necessarily really that bad. They're different, of course, but when you need a job, any honest work has its uses and positives.

You need to start focusing on those, at least just to get yourself started. People unwilling to do certain work often end up with no work.

And besides, you might be surprised at what you might end up doing, and liking.

 

This is pretty much it. And there are so many jobs out there that you never knew even existed (or never gave any thought about).

Actuary? Yeah, I kinda sorta have some idea what they do . . . no, I really don't. Not on a micro level, anyway. In any event, how many people did you know growing up who said, "Yeah, I'm gonna be an actuary!" But taking that path would have meant working in a well-paying job with little stress where your skills are always in demand.

And it's not so much "I can't do another job" because you can --- or you can learn how or be trained how. The problem is "How am I supposed to convince a hiring manager that I not only can do this other job but am the best possible candidate to do this other job."

 

Life isn't about right now or the next five years. It's about you hitting your 40s and being in this same shitty position, or worse yet, 53 like me and with zero experience in any other business except this dying one that has destroyed my/your/our dignity and hope along with it. Will your life or your company or your business get any BETTER in the next 15 years? Really? Plus, you're married, so it's not just for you. I say this with kindness in my heart: Suck it up, bite the bullet and get the fuck out while you still can.

 

I think about my decision to leave newspapers a lot (obviously, since I still read sites like this, and CJR and Romensko, even though that has nothing to do with what I do now. I obviously still miss it on many levels and it'd be wrong to deny it). I'm not going to claim it was some magic fix for everything in my life, because of course it wasn't, and of course other sectors are also being hit hard, because a lot of unfortunate things continue to go on in the American economy that it doesn't look like are being fixed in a meaningful way, in terms of the middle-class especially. Blah, blah, blah. Anyway, I feel like I'm better off now than I would've been if I stayed, but it's fundamentally a personal choice that maybe isn't right for everyone. But it was right for me, and I'm trying to put my finger on why. This may not make any sense at all, but it's sort of what I've come around to figuring out about myself and the profession and what my "dreams" are.

I say a lot that "journalism was my dream since high school," but for me personally, I've acknowledged that fundamentally isn't true. My dream was to write and make (and this sounds very naive, but it's still what I want deep down) a positive rather than negative net contribution to the world. Whatever that means. And when I was a junior in high school (in the 1990s, so at the time this didn't seem delusional), newspapers seemed like the most practical vehicle that would allow me to do these things, and still be a "grown-up job," and that it also might be kind of a fun career. And when I was still basically a kid, this thing that was actually as much of a compromise with who I was and what I wanted as business school or law school are for tons of people, became what I thought of as my "dream." And over time, the idea of this as a "dream job," whatever the reality was, became something I was very attached to, to the point where it was more about the idea of what I'd created and convinced myself I wanted, rather than what my dreams and what made me satisfied and passionate actually was.

I'm not sure what my "dream" is now, except still to be able to support myself through writing in a way that makes me feel like I'm doing something positive. But I'm looking, and I no longer feel like the media is the pathway I have to take to that. Which was hard to let go of, because I did very firmly decide it was the path I needed to take when I was 16 years old, and not working a j-job felt like failure, or admitting defeat and consigning myself to a life of "Office Space" or something. But it hasn't been that at all. It hasn't been perfect, it hasn't been entirely fulfilling, and even though I'm more financially stable now and have more free time, I feel a lot of the time like I don't know where the hell I'm going. Which is scary, but also weirdly freeing. I was on a certain path since I was 16, and for the last few years I...haven't been. And it's made me think about what I actually want - and I do mean professionally, not personally - and look at a lot of alt careers I never glanced at in college because I was focused on "my dream." I have no idea what I'll be doing in five years (actually, ideally I'll be in grad school, but after that I only have a rough idea), and that's somewhat terrifying, but also somewhat awesome, because I think I have a chance of actually figuring it out now that I'm trying to look at more things.

I guess my point is - and this is again just something I've come to personally - I see a lot of people who are afraid leaving means giving up on their dreams. But for me, it was less a dream than the idea of a dream that I'd settled for a long time ago. Maybe that applies to no one else, and this is overlong navel-gazing which I should stop. But it's what I've ultimately come to, more than the low pay and the long hours and often thankless parts of the work (which is matched by a lot of things that were a fun career and that I do miss), why I'll probably never go back.

I do want to freelance more, though.

 

No, that was a fantastic post and I related to much of it.

My dream also wasn't journalism, per se, although along the way I discovered that I really did love journalism and still do. It was to write and make a difference — and newspapers, at that time (I was in HS in the late 1990s), did look like the most direct path to make a living that way.

Later, my goals and perspective changed. After a few years as a reporter, I was offered a chance to become a full-time desker, which I liked because it offered me a more stable schedule and (again, at the time) better job opportunities. That decision gained me valuable new skills and experience, which later helped me land a website editor/PR job out of the business.

I miss the newsroom camaraderie, but nothing else. I haven't looked back for a second.

It's not an easy transition and I know I've been extremely lucky. And I understand some people just can't see themselves doing anything else. But as a wise man once said, these jobs are goin', boys, and they ain't comin' back. It's a hell of a lot easier to make the transition on your own terms than to have it forced upon you.

 

Seconded. Like you two I was in high school in the 1990s, and similarly I came around to the idea of journalism being a "dream job" instead of always believing so. I haven't left the business yet, but I know it's just a matter of time. Going abroad to find work won't be an option forever as the job opportunities in journalism aren't that much better overseas. Hopefully I can emulate Buck and parlay moving to the desk into something that's valuable beyond newspapers.

 

I'm currently practicing law in the same town where I worked as sports columnist for 8 years (ironically enough, my new office right across the street from the now-defunct newspaper). In my time at the paper I grew close to a couple of people who either teach journalism or advise student papers, so I still get approached a couple of times a year by people seeking advice about whether they should either leave the business or get into the business at all.

It's an individual answer and you shouldn't buy black-and-white generalities, whether it's "newspapers are doomed" or - one of my least favorites - you have to start out as an unpaid intern or free lancer.

To me, it's more about asking whether you're happy with the entire package, not whether you love journalism or your job or your pay. Being happy is a mix of your feelings about journalism generally, your job in particular, the people you work for and with, your hours, your chance for advancement, your pay, how you're treated, and your sense of security in general. In some parts of the country you can live well on $40k, and if everything else combines to make you happy, good on you. On the flip side, $85k in Washington, D.C., at a newspaper that's barely hanging on might not make you happy at all. There are obviously millions of possible iterations of those scenarios.

If you're not happy, though, or you think it's highly likely you're going to be laid off at some point, you should take time to put together a plan. Think about what might make you happy and what it takes to get to that place. Think big. Don't be scared. Talk to a career counselor - they're free at your local community college.

And once you've figured it the ultimate destination, figure out how to get there. Don't accept easy skepticism. Don't listen if people tell you you're too old for something. I went from writing a full-time sports column to employed as a litigator at a top law firm in 32 months - and took on less than $10k in student loan debt doing so. How? Well, the biggest part of "how?" was planning it out well in advance and figuring out just how to make that path work. The second biggest parts involved saving money in advance and having an understanding spouse. And the third biggest involved spending as little money as possible during that period. Not everybody can hit all those goals, but everybody can hit some of them, and everybody can plan. I had a friend who was single, had no family support, no spouse and no scholarship - so he joined the National Guard in law school, became a guard paralegal, and now he's a reserve JAG captain. He used the army to greatly minimize his debt. There are a ton of paths if you're a planner.

The bottom line? Life's too short to do something that doesn't make you happy. For some people that should mean staying in journalism. For others, it will mean getting out. Everybody's gotta figure it out for themselves.

 

I know this is a really old thread, but I wandered across it today and figured I'd add my two cents.

Last job I held was in a small community covering high school sports. Grew to enjoy the job, what I was doing and the people I got to know. I think what really got to me was when I would go out to the Little League fields and see kids playing in all-star tournaments, then watch them grow up before my eyes and go on to success in high schools. Plus I got to know so many different personalities and see so many coaches who did wonderful things with their athletes.

About four years ago, something happened that should have tipped me off that not all was well in the newspaper: I had a paycheck bounce.

I suppose I was being naive when I just chalked it up as a one-time thing, but then it happened several other times, to the point my editor said it was best to go directly to the bank that had the account from which our paychecks were drawn.

Anyway, I then started glancing around at jobs that were available, but two years ago, thought about the community and how I really liked it there. So then I started looking at houses one day, then got the idea that I'd buy a house.

Then, this past summer, the newspaper shut down.

An early warning sign that there was a problem should have come when, this same past summer, I had to go the emergency room and was told my health insurance was inactive.

I was fortunate enough to find another job in which I could continue covering high school sports in a small community (but with a larger population than the previous community and closer to a big city), in which the publisher has worked his whole life in the newspaper business and, while having sometimes unrealistic expectations, has gone to bat for me already when a petty complaint came his way (that's a topic for another day).

As far as the topic itself goes, I may still be working in the industry, it boils down to this: The time to get out of the industry is when you are not enjoying yourself, and the time to leave a particular newspaper or media outlet is when you get the sense that things just aren't being run right at the ownership or management level. And really, that applies to just about any job out there.

I will say, though, that one thing to always be careful about is that you don't tie yourself down with too much in the city or community you live in, no matter how much you may love it. Because you never know when you may have to pull up roots and move on. Case in point: My house purchase came because I let my love for the previous community cloud my judgment too much. Now I have to wonder how long it will take for me to sell that house.

Good discussion and, while it's an old one, I thought it was worth digging up again.

 

I'll turn this back around and say don't let your love for an occupation displace you from somewhere you want to be. My life is my life. Where I live is my life. My job is most certain not my life. When I got out, it was to get out. The thought of moving to take another newspaper job never entered into my mind. As I told someone, you don't get out of a burning building then run back inside. If you had a community you loved, I would have found a new occupation in that community. A community and family will love you and give back to you. The newspaper industry will not.