Jeraldine Phneah's newsletter landed in my inbox this morning, and the title stopped me cold.

Her Singaporean friend working in Chicago noticed something: back home, our conversations revolve around work, BTOs, condos, stocks, and renovations. Over there, his colleagues talk about sports, hobbies, and what they do after work.

Reading that triggered something in me - a memory I'd rather forget.

The Fall

In 2014, I exited my first business in recruitment. For 11 years, I'd been the MD of a well-known firm we'd built from scratch. Almost overnight, that title (and the identity that came with it) disappeared.

I was arrogant enough to think my phone would explode with job offers. Three months later, all I got were crickets. That was an uppercut to my already-low morale.

I took a part-time BD job to keep the bills paid. When that dried up, I drove for Uber just to make ends meet. (I wrote about that experience here)

I still keep my private hire license. Seeing it occasionally reminds me of rock bottom.

Today, I do independent work with enough retainers and projects, and I published a book on self-employment that hit Amazon's bestseller list. Luck played a huge part. So did having young kids. Ending it wasn't an option.

But looking back, I keep asking: how could the landing have been softer?

The One Basket Problem

When your job title is suddenly ripped away (whether through an exit or a termination letter) you realise how much of yourself you've invested in that one identity.

It's like keeping all your cash in your wallet. When you get pickpocketed, you're completely screwed. That's why smart travellers stash money in their pockets, travel belts, and hidden compartments. Contingency.

Your identity needs the same diversification.

During my lowest point, I'm grateful I had a social football team to manage. It kept me occupied on weekends and injected alternate meaning into my life when work couldn't.

Making Time (Yes, Even You)

I roll my eyes at friends who claim they have zero time after kids arrive. Beyond caregiving, they fill weekends shuttling children from one enrichment to another.

A friend who married young once told me: Couples need things beyond their kids, because kids eventually grow up and move on. She's witnessed divorces happen when couples realise they've been strangers in a household held together by their children as flimsy glue.

There are 52 weeks in a year. If you can't afford 10% of those weekends (just 5.2 weekends) for yourself, you only have yourself to blame.

What to Do With That Time

Not Netflix.

Embark on a hobby, a craft. Things that pull you into the zone. A friend who was recently retrenched finally achieved his dream of biking from Singapore to Yunnan.

For me, it's gardening (despite my brown fingers). I also serve as a board member and former vice chairman of a charity. Helping others is the most selfish thing you can do - studies prove the benefits. The meaning it gives you often comes when work cannot.

That's why I stalk PassItOn, a website where charities list things their recipients need. I don't have the means to uplift everyone, but helping some kids in a family get new shoes for school fills up my emotional tank.

The False God of Job Titles

As the job market becomes increasingly heartless, prep for the worst. Don't be fooled by the false self-importance that comes with your current title.

Your job title is like caffeine. It makes you feel awake and alert, but it doesn't fix the lousy sleep you got the night before.

Only by finding meaning beyond work can you realise there's much more to life than the answer to "What do you do?"

Adrian Tan
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