Time to Grow Up? My Thoughts on Meg Jay's TED Talk About Our Twenties
30 oktober 2024
Today, I watched this TED Talk on LinkedIn called "Why 30 is Not the New 20," and it was all about why we should start planning our lives earlier. Clinical psychologist Meg Jay argued that “claiming your 20s” is one of the simplest yet most impactful things you can do — for your career, relationships, happiness, and maybe even the world. She highlighted that 80% of life’s biggest moments happen before 35, that your first ten working years hugely impact future earnings, and that your brain has its last growth spurt in your mid-twenties before fully rewiring for adulthood. Basically, if you want to make changes, Jay says, now—meaning your twenties—are the time! "The mid-life crisis is not about buying that red sports car, but about realizing you can't have the career you want because you drifted through your twenties."
Jikes! I’ll be honest — this talk shook me, and it felt a little like she was calling me out personally. I definitely didn’t feel like I had my life planned out in my early twenties; I was—and frankly still am—most definitely just winging it! Was I supposed to take my career seriously from the start? I was barely out of college, still figuring out what I wanted. I thought — and was even told by “the wise” around me — that your twenties were for exploring, for trying things out. Wasn’t the whole point to experiment so you don’t end up in a job you hate, with a partner you can’t stand, and a kid you’re not ready for, feeling financially and emotionally stuck?
Once I got over my initial reaction — and the feeling that she’d read my diary — I thought more about the advice she was actually giving. While I still don’t believe life "ends" after 30 or that growth is limited, she did make some points I can get behind (at least in my interpretation of them):
- Do Something in Your Twenties That Adds Value to Who You Are: This could mean ending relationships or leaving environments that no longer serve you, taking that big trip, or finally starting the course you’ve always wanted to do. It’s about investing in your future self in a meaningful way.
- Expand Your Social Circle: Don’t just hold on to the same friend group you’ve had since high school or college. Meet new people from different backgrounds, ages, and professions who challenge your perspective and introduce you to new ways of thinking.
- Be Intentional About Choosing Your Future “Family”: Decide who you want to build your future with, whether that’s a partner or friends who feel like family. Don’t just pass time with people who don’t genuinely support or choose you in return.
Circling back to Jay's earlier points, I honestly don’t know if there’s any 'damage' done by drifting around through my twenties. Financially, maybe I’d be earning more now if I’d followed a set career path from the start. But would I have been happier? Would I trade all the things I learned by exploring different directions? No way. To me, those experiences are worth more than a linear pay scale.
As for my brain’s growth spurt and ability to change—if science says it, then sure, I’m not as flexible as I was five years ago. However, I don’t believe that means I can't change at all anymore. I’m in a place where I have the time and patience to evolve if I choose to. And yet, the funny thing is that as I get older, I don’t feel the need to change or bend over backward as much. In fact, I’m much more comfortable being less flexible now than I was in my early twenties when I constantly sought the approval of goodness knows who.
I’m not sure there’s a clear-cut conclusion here. Meg Jay is a researcher who clearly knows her stuff, but I don’t believe it’s as simple as saying, “your twenties set up your life forever.” There are certainly ways to gain valuable life and career experience in your twenties, but I don’t believe there’s a one-size-fits-all timeline to succes. Whether you’re an early bloomer or a late one, people are always evolving, times are changing, and what’s 'right' varies from one person to the next. So perhaps it’s more helpful to focus less on what we 'should have' or 'could have' done in our early days, and instead happily focus on what we 'want to do' for the rest of our lives. Would you agree?
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When we’re catching up with friends or family, someone almost always asks, “So, how’s work?” It’s one of those universal conversation starters, right up there with “How’ve you been?” and “Is it supposed to rain today?” It makes sense—work takes up such a big part of our lives that it feels natural to check in. But the answers are rarely a cheerful “Amazing! Love it!” More often, it’s a sigh and a reluctant “It’s fine, but…” followed by a laundry list of grievances: “My micromanaging boss is driving me nuts,” “We’re having yet another reorganization,” “My workload is overwhelming,” or the existential classic, “I have no idea what I’m doing with my life.” And yes, I’m guilty of every one of these! Everyone has something they’d like to change about their job, but let’s be real—not all complaints are created equal. There’s a range: some people have a catalog of frustrations, while others just have the occasional gripe. And then, there’s a scale. A serious issue like, “My manager is openly sexist,” clearly carries more weight than, “We keep running out of oat milk for coffee.” When a complaint affects your safety, health, or well-being, it’s a signal to act—to talk to HR or even think about leaving if nothing changes. At the end of the day, it’s just a job—no paycheck is worth sacrificing your peace of mind. Fortunately, most people I speak with don’t encounter such severe issues. In fact, many simply want to vent about their jobs but have no desire to leave because the benefits—whether it's pay, stability, or a sense of purpose—far outweigh the downsides. Interestingly, those who complain might actually enjoy their jobs more than they let on, which only adds to the confusion. This really makes me ponder: why do we complain? Well, I definitely think it has something to do with my generation sometimes having to adjust our sky-high expectations to reality. Growing up, we were told we could be anything, that the world was our oyster, and that work should bring us joy. The reality doesn’t always match these romanticized ideals. We scroll through LinkedIn and social media, seeing “I landed my dream job!” posts everywhere. It’s easy to start thinking that’s how our experiences should look like, too. (Although I have to say, there’s a refreshing shift on social media now with people sharing more honest stories about the realities of work and life.) Still, no wonder we have to blow off the occasional steam. Perhaps controversally, I also think we complain because it can actually be incredibly useful. Maybe it’s even why we’ve survived as a species for so long—it’s how we problem-solve, right? It’s how we spot what’s not working, and sometimes a bit of dissatisfaction is exactly the push we need to pursue something better. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that complaints can fuel innovation, spark change, and foster personal growth. And the fact that people feel comfortable enough to share their frustrations at work can actually be a testament to good company culture. But, of course, constant, unproductive complaining has its dangers. I once worked with a team that had practically made complaining an art form. Everyone, all day long, was venting about something. It was exhausting, and not because the issues were catastrophic—this was just the team culture. Even thinking about that job now makes me feel drained. Complaining nonstop without any solutions or balance just drags everyone down. And let’s be honest, nobody likes a Debbie Downer. In the end, I saw firsthand how it can leave people feeling like victims, stuck in a cycle of blame with no ownership over their experience. So, where do I really stand on complaining? For me, it’s part of being human to talk about both the good and the bad. I genuinely want to hear about the things that aren’t going well because we’re friends, and I want to help you navigate those tough spots just as much as I want to celebrate your wins. But here’s the catch: complaining doesn’t work solo; it needs a partner—let’s call her Mrs. Action. If something’s off, you’ve got to bend that situation into something better. Otherwise, what’s the point? I can already hear some of my friends saying, “Yeah, but Aniek, sometimes I just want to complain for the sake of complaining.” Fair enough! In that case, just let the other person know you’re venting. And finally—if I’ve learned anything from all those self-help books—it’s important not to let the little things overshadow the big picture. I’ll admit, this last piece of advice is mainly for myself. Next time I complain—and trust me, there will be a next time—I’ll try to keep these things in mind. It all sounds very wise in theory and looks good on paper, but I know my husband is laughing his head off at this post right now, as if I’ve got it all figured out. Life's a work in progress, darling; I guess we can’t complain!
One thing about me: I love having dinner and drinks with friends while we passionately discuss our company cultures. It’s fascinating how it’s such a hot topic—people either adore their company culture or find it toxic. Before I entered the workforce, I can’t recall it being such a big deal. I guess this focus on company culture is so prevalent in my life now because people of my generation tend to prioritize their well-being and life experiences. Unlike previous generations, many of us don’t have to tolerate poor treatment from employers, especially with more job opportunities available. Let’s be honest: we want what’s best for ourselves. After all, what kind of self-care kings and queens would we otherwise be? I know a thing or two about company culture. I used to work as an Office & Culture Lead at an incredibly cool B-Corp, and I can’t help but chuckle at some of the extravagant things I did in the name of "culture." My job was to ensure that everyone had an amazing, meaningful, and inclusive experience at work, which often felt like running a full-time entertainment business. I loved it, though, and found it incredibly fulfilling. It really pushed my creativity as I constantly looked for new ways to surprise and delight my colleagues. Food, freebies, social inspiration, and unforgettable experiences worked wonders. Anything that made people laugh, learn, or feel good about themselves was pure gold, especially when senior managers and the board joined in. However, over time, I found the concept of company culture increasingly confusing. Is it really just about promoting inclusivity and having fun at work? Does that genuinely define a great culture? If so, then why weren’t people always happy? Why were there so many moments when I felt overwhelmed, undervalued, and questioned my true contributions to society? The activities provided temporary relief, but they didn’t seem to reflect the full reality of the situation. Instead, they felt like welcome distractions. Behind the scenes, things weren’t always rosy. The workload was incredibly high, and the pay was nothing to write home about. Most of the time, I didn’t mind though, because I loved my colleagues and was committed to the company and its B-Corp “vision”—just like many other idealistic young people who were easily drawn into cult-like devotion. I would work overtime and, at home, think about work every waking (and sometimes sleeping) hour. I became deeply involved in my colleagues' emotions; if my friends—er, colleagues—weren’t doing well, it affected me too. Looking back now, I smile at that version of myself; I seemed so young and unable to set healthy boundaries. No wonder most days I felt like I was on the brink of burnout! But can I really solely blame the company culture for that? The biggest lesson I’ve learned is that a great company culture involves more than just having fun at work. It’s about establishing fair and sustainable working conditions while genuinely upholding the values you promote. If mental well-being is truly a priority, don’t simply provide “mental health emergency lines”, adjust workloads and fairly compensate for overtime. If diversity is at the top of you list, actively seek out individuals from diverse backgrounds, regardless of their education. If board members emphasize the importance of downtime, then why are they sending emails at midnight? And if equality is truly valued, why is one male employee earning more than his female counterparts for the same role? In my opinion, even if it’s unintentional, there’s a fine line between having a genuine vision for a company culture and wokewashing. One final point I’d like to emphasize is that I don’t believe perfection exists when it comes to company culture. No employer will ever be flawless; there will always be room for improvement, and as long as people are involved, mistakes will happen. I also don’t think we should swing to the other extreme—from having “no rights” at work to feeling entitled to royal treatment. “I didn’t sleep well, so I’m canceling all my meetings this morning for self-care,” or “I don’t like my boss, so I’m calling in sick indefinitely—and don’t even think about asking me to come back; it’s bad for my mental health.” (A friend of mine had someone in her team pull this.) This isn’t a healthy approach to being an employee or a team player, either—and I can see why most employers wouldn’t know how to handle it. If you ask me, company culture is a continually evolving work in progress that should adapt to the needs of its employees, the business, and the environment and era in which it operates. It should be fun and fair for both employees and employers, achieved through mutual commitment to thrive and honest, open communication. What do you think?
Guys, I have a confession to make: I’m a job-hopper! A while back, I shared a post wondering if my career journey was a flaw or a badge of honor. Some days, I feel accomplished exploring so many paths; today, it feels more like a setback. And, let’s be real, scrolling through LinkedIn doesn’t help. It seems like everyone else has it all mapped out: the right study path, the dream job, and a steady climb up the career ladder. Thanks, LinkedIn! That said, I’m genuinely proud of everything I’ve explored over the last eight years. Those experiences have taught me a lot about myself, and have brought me a broad skillset and insights across different fields. I feel well-rounded, having dabbled in a bit of everything. But I’ll admit, it can be awkward telling people—whether it’s a potential employer or a stranger on the bus—that I’ve worked for five companies so far. Somehow, job-hopping is celebrated for “consultants,” but when it’s about personal discovery—a self-made “traineeship” in my twenties—it becomes a red flag. It’s easy for people to assume you can’t stick it out, that you give up before the real learning begins. “No job is perfect, you know!” Thanks, Karen, for the advice I didn’t ask for. To be fair, there were times I could have stayed longer. I might have been more open with employers about what wasn’t working, and maybe we could’ve adjusted things. I know in at least a couple of roles, those conversations would have been welcome. But truthfully, I was driven by curiosity. How else do you know what truly suits you if you don’t try different paths? I’m not part of a generation that sticks to one lifelong job just because 'any job is better than no job.' With so many options, I’ve explored everything from working at an international startup on complex, strategic projects to government work, helping people re-enter the workforce. The contrast was striking, and the learning curve huge! Though some former colleagues warned me I’d be bored in public sector work, I wanted to experience it firsthand—I’m incredibly stubborn and prefer to make up my own mind. Plus, I wanted to try something new: working directly with people instead of sitting in a cute office donating to social causes. (Too bad they were right about the boredom, though...) Anyhow, this pattern is evident in my choices: I tend to follow my heart more than my head. And my resume reflects this—my heart’s decisions don’t always align with the long-term expectations employers look for. By now, I’ve probably earned the “job-hopper” label, and I imagine HR departments feel a slight alarm when my CV lands on their desk. But here’s my question: what’s the real issue here? I asked ChatGPT. Typical concerns include loyalty and commitment (leaving when better opportunities arise), lack of skill depth (not staying long enough to reach mastery), high turnover costs (recruiting and training isn’t cheap), impact on team dynamics (people be sad when you leave), and perceived indecisiveness (are they really committed to this job?). But ultimately, it all boils down to one core question for the employer: “Will this person stay long enough to be worth the investment?” Look, I get it. I understand the challenges that come with frequent job changes. However, it often feels like all the responsibility falls on the employee. Don’t employers or even life’s circumstances also have a role to play? I’ve had roles that were incredibly under-stimulating, and even after requesting more work, there was simply nothing available. In other instances, I felt overwhelmed and overworked; despite asking for support, no changes were made (two people were hired to fill that position after I left). Once, I relocated and didn’t want to deal with a long commute. And in another case, the company culture and my colleagues just didn’t resonate with me. Basically, leaving has never been an impulsive decision; it has always been a necessary step in finding the next right thing. So, will I continue this pattern in the future? Honestly, I hope not. My twenties are almost over, I have a baby on the way, and I’m ready to settle down. (Also, don’t underestimate what a workout this self-organized traineeship has turned out to be.) After all this learning, I have a much clearer idea of what I want from a job. I’m not chasing perfection—because it doesn’t exist—but I am looking for a role that genuinely makes me happy. Do I like my colleagues? Is the workload manageable and open to discussion? Am I paid fairly? And is the commute reasonable? Those are the essentials for me, along with a company that supports growth and offers opportunities as I evolve. How far would you go to explore and shape your career journey?