Quit your day job, or don't!

This one decision isn't that important.

A close musician friend of mine recently told me he was thinking of quitting his comfortable university teaching job in the hopes of having more time to pursue his own creative projects and ventures. He wanted to know if I thought leaving his teaching position, i.e. his “day job,” was a good idea. I knew he was specifically curious about my thoughts due to my own career path.

For nearly a decade, playing viola was my sole source of income. About five years into that period, I felt the urge to start pursuing stand-up comedy, which as a beginner comic paid about negative seventy-five bucks a month, as I often had to pay or buy a drink in order to perform at an open mic in New York City. So as I lost money doing comedy, playing viola became my “day job.” This may sound like a cavalier statement, but know this:

• I had devoted my entire life to music from the age of five, forgoing many social activities a typical kid would participate in (which I was totally fine with because I was horribly awkward and had a fear of almost everything including but not limited to: other kids, gum, any physical activity disguised as “fun,” and the wind). I was what some might call a “loser.”

• I had a highly specialized skill, and highly specialized skills can earn someone a decent living (especially if that skill is on an instrument less commonly played).

For the purpose of this piece, I will define “day job” as any work someone does that:

1. takes up a significant amount of their time most days of the week.

2. is the main or sole source of their income.

3. is work they may or may not enjoy, but is definitely not their “true passion” in life.

As music became my day job, stand-up became my true passion. I was doing more and more stand-up whenever I could, imagining the day I’d no longer have to sweat it out in Broadway pit orchestras and sit in hours long recording sessions with wise-cracking conductors whose jokes deserved only groans but received forced laughter from exhausted musicians.

For the last two-ish years, my main source of income has finally been from performing stand-up comedy, and that makes me really happy. However, the amount of time I devoted to stand-up comedy hasn’t changed much since I first started pursuing it. I was spending a lot of time telling fart jokes into microphones in front of strangers well before it became how I paid my rent. The difference is I used to work it around a very busy freelance viola career, often playing a Broadway show until 10pm in Times Square and then booking it down to the West Village with my viola in tow to try out my latest premises and punch lines on an unpaid late show for an audience of five drunks. I was very tired all the time.

I paint this picture of my older life not to romanticize the hustle, (though I realize these anecdotes may make me seem pretty fucking cool — sorry, not my intention!) but rather to convey that I didn’t let my day job affect how I spent my time outside of it. In fact, if I’d had the financial luxury of playing fewer viola gigs earlier on in my stand-up pursuit, I doubt I would’ve used that extra time to work harder at stand-up — and perhaps I would’ve worked less hard, because I wouldn’t have had the experience of doing something I no longer enjoyed to push me into taking the uncomfortable steps required to shift careers.

And the steps were definitely uncomfortable. My stand-up sets for about the first two years used to be either:

1. at an open mic where the audience consisted exclusively of other wannabe comedians who were too in their own heads about their own sets to laugh at anyone else’s jokes.

2. in front of “real people” on lineups that I was only on because I would stand outside the club for hours beforehand “barking” strangers in to see the show. Yes, I was one of those annoying people on the street who’d ask if you wanted to see a “free comedy show.” One time I even barked at John Legend, and yes I knew it was him when I yelled out — I was just that desperate to fill my audience quota. He ignored me, and then moments later a pigeon pooped on my arm.

I knew stand-up was something I wanted to do, and nothing could’ve stopped me, not even the cold indifference of John Legend or bird feces, and especially not my day job.

Now, I happen to have had a very clear vision of what I wanted to be doing instead of playing viola, and this clarity is a rare gift. Many feel a general pull or yearning, but are not exactly sure towards what. There’s a spectrum of clarity for anyone who wants to change their current career/life: on one end is the feeling that you might die if you don’t pursue this one specific thing. On the other end is simply the sense that something else is out there for you, lovingly awaiting your discovery. If you find yourself anywhere on this spectrum, it’s a beautiful opportunity to explore, but it doesn’t mean you have to uproot your whole life (or even quit your day job).

I didn’t just make one big decision to throw my viola in a dumpster and become a comedian (although how cool would that have been?!) I made many small decisions every day (like deciding to fit in an open mic before or after my viola gig) that eventually led me to a life that I find more bearable.

When trying to eat healthier, I’ve been given the advice to add healthy foods in rather than restrict the unhealthy ones. This idea can be applied to pursuing your dreams. Instead of quitting a day job you don’t love, try just adding in what you do love, (you may be surprised how much you can fit in with a little intention and planning) because the harsh reality is that if you make space before you know how to fill it, you may find yourself just as uninspired and unfulfilled, but now just with more time on your hands.

And of course some are at the point where it is time to make more space because you’ve proven to yourself that you’ll be able to fill it productively in a way that will bring more satisfaction than you currently feel. In this case, you may be feeling some fear of the unknown. If you feel uncertain, or perhaps like you’d be giving up a career/life you’ve worked hard to achieve, remember two things:

1. Security is a fallacy — nothing is promised. People get fired. People get sick. Very little is in our control, so just do what you want to do (obviously as long as it involves having enough money for food and shelter. Be reasonable here, people!)

2. Discipline is transferable. Maybe you’re thinking “but Isabel, you spent all this time mastering the viola, and now you’re doing comedy instead? What a waste!” To which I say “aw that’s not very nice!” and also “the discipline of learning something is a valuable tool one can apply to all aspects of life.” (Did I just quote myself in italics? Yes. I did.) In other words, if you work hard learning how to do something and then stop doing that thing, the time you spent working is far from wasted. When you learn something, you’re not just improving at the thing, you’re also improving at learning. (Did I just explain my own quote when I could’ve just used that explanatory language to begin with? Yup!)

So anyway go ahead. Quit your day job. Or maybe don’t yet. I don’t know. Sorry!

Below I’ve included an audio recording of the conversation with my friend (pianist Daniel Anastasio) that inspired this piece (the one I mentioned at the beginning of this essay). He was staying at my apartment while in town to play a concert. He’s one of my closest friends and favorite people to talk to and we always have great conversations, so we decided to record one of them! It’s 45 minutes long, in case that has any impact on you wanting to listen or not.

I’ll be in Michigan this week/weekend (Feb 14th - 17th) at the Ann Arbor Comedy Showcase! Tickets here or at isabelhagen.com.