It was shortly after Covid.
I was finally ready to get back to work after months of furlough and unemployment. And was thrilled after receiving not 1 but 2 job offers. Both of them – from well established and prosperous companies. And it was a difficult decision to make. One role offered a higher salary but required working with technologies I hadn’t used before, which meant facing a much steeper learning curve. The other company, on the other hand, used a tech stack I was already familiar with — and it happened to be a high-end brand for handbags and accessories. Every woman’s dream job, I thought.
I chose the latter.
A few months into my new job, and I was exhilarated of all the amazing perks I was entitled to – among them half day Fridays and big company discounts. What did that mean? – handbags, lots of handbags.
Nevertheless, I had chosen to pursue a career as a Software Engineer for all the wrong reasons – not for passion, but for the respect from others, prestige, money. And throughout the 12 years I worked in the area, I didn’t feel particularly confident in my skills, nor I had the motivation to improve them. Instead I was crippled by severe anxiety and felt like a complete imposter most of the time.
It didn’t help that I was frequently ill, in and out of the hospital, and often on prolonged sick leave. I was losing track of all the work my colleagues were doing day in and day out, and was slowly getting more and more behind.
My manager was very understanding and patient, but eventually she got fed up with my excuses and incompetence.
At least that’s how I felt.
And a quiet voice started to emerge in my head.
For all those years, I had been forcing myself to persevere. I can make it work, I told myself. This is normal. Not many people are passionate about their jobs. I’m just part of the crowd.
But why did I do that to myself? Why did I ignore my own instincts and inner voice for so long? Deep down, I knew this path wasn’t right for me, yet I kept pushing forward—driven by fear, a need for security, and the belief that this was simply how life was supposed to be. And, I admit, part of me was afraid of losing the perks that came with the job.
I especially loved the little moments of recognition—when friends, family, or even strangers on the street would stop me and ask where I got my handbag. Working at the company’s head office gave me access to limited-edition pieces that weren’t available on the high street. Those moments made me feel special, connected, and, honestly, proud.
Weeks turned into months.
I was living for the next Friday, the next pay-check, the next special handbag. That was the rhythm of my life—work, reward, repeat. But beneath the surface, I carried dreams. I dreamt of becoming a writer, of writing books that mattered, of helping people on my own terms. There was a quiet voice inside me—not from my head, but from somewhere deeper, my heart. And with time, it grew louder:
“You were meant for more. So much more,” it whispered.
But then, one ordinary morning on my way to the office, something shifted.
I was planning my next handbag purchase in my head—imagining how beautiful it would look, how it would complement my outfits, how others might admire it. And then—right in the middle of that thought—a strange realisation struck me.
My heart had gone silent.
That inner voice, the one that spoke of dreams and purpose, had vanished—drowned out by the noise of consumer desires. For that moment, I had forgotten all about my calling, my longings, my true self.
Was I trading my dreams for handbags?
Were the perks and benefits turning me into a complete materialist—distracting me from a life of meaning and depth?
That morning’s realisation stayed with me.
I began to see just how easily I had slipped into a cycle of seeking temporary highs—discounts, perks, handbags—while ignoring the quiet voice calling me toward a life of greater meaning. My job wasn’t just giving me a paycheck; it was shaping my values. The benefits I once celebrated had quietly pulled me away from the person I wanted to become.
That was my wake-up call.
Just a few days later, I handed in my resignation and haven’t looked back since.
Since then, I’ve made it a conscious practice to listen more to my heart and less to the noise around me. To remember that no perk or possession can replace the fulfilment of living in alignment with your true values.
If you’ve ever found yourself caught in the same cycle, ask yourself: What am I trading for comfort or convenience? And is it worth it?
It is not the man who has too little, but the man who craves more, that is poor.
Seneca