Changing Careers: Part Three

If you’ve stuck with me this far, you’re probably ready for me to cut to the chase about my new line of work. I’m finding that I could probably drag this out into a whole Eat, Pray, Love style novel, but out of respect for your time and possible waning interest, here’s the scoop: I’m now working as a Product Specialist in Merchandising for REI Corporate. It’s a remote role, but I’m still based in Seattle and have access to an office if I choose. So far, it’s been a great fit with my Pacific Northwest aspirations, and my colleagues are superb influences on my gear collection and after-work adventures.

For those who enjoyed the anecdotes and insights from my travels, know that the journey continued to offer valuable lessons. When I finally parked in my building’s garage nearly two weeks later and shut off the engine, I leaned back, reflecting on the whirlwind of events that had reshaped my perspective and led me to this new chapter.

What began as uncertainty and recklessness soon turned into a deep exploration of what truly matters to me. The thrill of the open road and postcard-worthy sights weren’t just distractions; they were a canvas on which I could paint a new perspective.

Initially feeling raw and stripped bare, each leg of the journey added a new layer of hope and understanding. The unexpected pep talk from the Canadian traveler served as a beacon of reassurance, reminding me that life’s most significant decisions should come from the courage to embrace change and follow personal passions.

Seeing the iconic Bixby Creek Bridge with the waves from the Pacific crashing below, I felt joy at having made time for this detour. The effort led to one of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen, and served as a reminder that some of life’s treasures are easy to miss if you’re constantly rushing through.

At Pinnacles National Park, I felt giddy and childlike. I ran for cover with a stranger when a tiny storm whipped through with surprising force, and we laughed together, quoting the old 'double rainbow' Vine when two shimmering arches appeared in the distance. Normally, I’d be too self-conscious to be so unguarded with a stranger, but being open to connection led to a fond new memory.

The drive between destinations had also sparked new ideas. One of the most impactful lessons came from a podcast featuring Spanx CEO Sara Blakely. She shared her philosophy: keep your dreams and goals close to your chest and let your actions speak louder than words. Damn. Focusing on doing rather than discussing my aspirations helped protect my goals from doubt and distraction. This approach gave me the determination to move forward with quiet confidence—start the website, apply for the job, fail, and try again.

This especially resonated, because only a few weeks prior I had given a trial run to the exact opposite approach—shouting my goals and aspirations to everyone, thinking that being vocal would help me manifest the outcomes I wanted. Remember my big plans to go to grad school in the UK? Yeah, me too. When those plans didn’t pan out, constantly re-hashing my disappointment made me realize that people knowing too much about me was exhausting and unnecessary extra work.

And finally, Death Valley was a firm reminder that even in the most harrowing of circumstances, I can trust myself to find a way through. It’s impossible to prepare for everything, and I certainly wasn’t prepared for a blizzard in the desert, but I could count on my intuition, rely on my strengths, and find a way to power through— I am capable. 

Returning from my adventure, I carried not just memories of breathtaking landscapes and experiences, but also a renewed sense of purpose. I embraced the idea that it’s not about clinging to a former identity but evolving into the person I want to be. So, with newfound clarity and the wisdom of quiet determination, it was time to put all these lessons to work and find a new job.

I considered grad school for a new foundation, the peace corps for world view and connection, and roles tangential to civil engineering for greater chances of success. I was applying diligently, but each process was timely. In what felt like the blink of an eye, several months had gone by and the desire for a paycheck had me change my approach. Perhaps I’ll find a side gig to have a small stream of income while I parse out this next chapter. 

I thought about local places I enjoy: Café Vita, Brooks, REI, Seattle Reign… I wondered if any of them were hiring. After scouring LinkedIn, I found an open position for a part-time retail associate at the Bellevue REI store. I hesitated—retail wasn’t my first choice, but it could be a good foot in the door. It ended up being more than that, and I essentially shoved my whole body through the door. After seven months of fitting shoes, selling memberships, working the cash register, and explaining rain jacket layers, a position opened up for my current role. An internal application, product knowledge, and data heavy background… the job was mine.

And that’s it. Career change complete. Am I happy? Yes. Was it hard? Hell yes. Was it worth it? Absolutely. 

In the end, I found peace in the realization that stepping away from a well-trodden path wasn’t a loss but a gain. It was an affirmation that making bold choices in pursuit of happiness and authenticity was the right decision. As I set out on this new chapter, I did so with newfound confidence, knowing that the lessons learned from my journey—and the quiet resolve to act on my desires—were the foundation of my new beginning.