If you’ve been on social media or watched the news recently, you’ve undoubtedly seen the story of Geoffrey Owens, an actor famous for his recurring-guest work on The Cosby Show where he played Elvin, being job-shamed online for working at a Trader Joe’s.

A customer shared two unflattering photos of Owens bagging groceries and wearing his Trader Joe’s name tag (I won’t dignify it by sharing them here). Media outlets picked up the story quickly and, as you would expect, had a lot to say about his situation.

What ensued was a short period of job-shaming – making someone feel bad about the kind of job they have – followed by a swell of support from fans and the Hollywood community. Geoffrey spoke about it candidly in his Good Morning America interview. This was his greatest takeaway:

“There is no job that’s better than another job. It might pay better, it might have better benefits, it might look better on a resume and on paper. But actually, it’s not better. Every job is worthwhile and valuable.”

The whole situation reminded me of a common question asked by those who want to pursue their passion as a source of income: How do I “quit the day job” and try to make it full-time doing [insert passion]?

Passion, income, and what really matters

Many years ago, when I had just risen from “starving artist” into “barely comfortable,” I sat across from an aspiring professional magician who reached out to me via social media. He was 25, working a very nice desk job at some insurance company with great benefits, paid vacation, a 401k, and on track to be making six figures in a few years.

“I have this great job, and I do magic gigs on the weekends. But I really want to quit my job,” he said. “I wish I could be a full-time magician, like you.”

My mind exploded.

I had no health insurance. I had very little savings. As recently as a year earlier I was losing weight because I couldn’t afford to eat enough after paying my rent, car, phone, and websites (necessities for running the business I was trying to build). What was he talking about?!

As far as I was concerned, he was living the dream, not me. He had a very comfortable income, great benefits, and a steady track to success. On top of which, he got to do magic for money on the weekends and at nights. He didn’t have the stress and anxiety of needing magic gigs to pay the bills. It was the best of both worlds!

Many of the most talented magicians I know are part-time professionals, or “weekend warriors.” They have steady, full-time jobs with benefits, and gig on the nights and weekends. Unburdened by the need to do magic as a primary source of income they tend to be more creative, because their time and energy are spent on magic rather than on marketing and business.

And yet, the full-timers have one thing that part-timers don’t: the ability to say, “I’m a full time magician.”

The only benefit to doing it full-time is the story you tell yourself about what success means. And for a lot of people, that story is really important. So important that I have friends who, after ten years of trying, are STILL struggling to make it as a full-time magician, musician, comedian, etc and refuse to take a part-time gig or day job to make ends meet.

It’s the same story that my 25-year-old acquaintance told himself about me that made him want to quit his cushy day job, even though he was already getting paid to do magic.

One path isn’t better than the other. The question you need to ask is, “How much does that story matter to me, and what am I willing to give up in order to tell it to myself and others?”

Your path is yours alone

I was ready to give up on a career as a full-time magician right around the time I caught a break. When I first graduated college and decided to try my hand at professional magic, I made a deal with myself: I wasn’t allowed to take a part-time job to help make ends meet for at least two years. 

Being fairly self-aware, I knew that if I took a 20-hour-a-week job at McDonald’s (the first and only ‘real’ job I ever had) I wouldn’t work hard enough to find magic gigs. In the back of my mind I’d say, “Well, you don’t have any gigs this week, but it’s okay because you still have that money from McDonald’s.” I needed external motivation, so I made up a rule.

Two years later, I still wasn’t making it.

If my “starving artist” life had continued another 8 months or so, I would have either gone back to school or taken a part-time gig while continuing to pursue magic. After two full years of struggling to pay bills, being unable to afford to go on dates, and turning down offers to hang out with friends because I didn’t have the money for gas, the story had become less appealing. I made it just in time.

For that reason, I hesitate to preach my story to struggling or aspiring artists. My path isn’t a blueprint; it’s simply the path I took. We don’t get to find out what would have happened if we’d taken a different path, and it’s unlikely that anyone else would have the same results following our path, because they are them and we are us.

Why are you here?

Just last year I was still, very occasionally, doing magic at a local restaurant for what my colleagues would consider pocket change. When a friend got wind that I was doing that, he couldn’t believe it.

“What?! Why would you still be working there for $ when you’re regularly getting flown around the world doing gigs for $$$$$$$?”

His reaction was bewilderment, and it was echoed one night at the restaurant by a patron. She very much enjoyed my performance. Then apparently, she looked me up on Google after I left the table. She called me back.

“Wait a second. Is this you? You have a famous TEDx talk. You perform and speak all over the world.”

“Yes?” I responded.

“… Why are you here?”

And there it was. On her face, sheer confusion. How could somebody at that level be doing anything at this level. My answer to her was simple:

“I’m here because I like it here.”

The truth was, of course, more complex. The patrons were great; I had regulars I really enjoyed seeing. I had known the owner for years. He invited me to come work whenever I was in town, and when I was on tour, he said, “We’ll see you whenever you’re back!” Perfect situation for me. Why sit at home twiddling my thumbs when I could be out working on my craft, meeting new people, and putting a few bucks in the bank?

Just like Geoffrey Owens found a perfect situation for him. Trader Joe’s promised him flexible hours to go audition, and a steady source of income while he was in-between jobs.

For many working actors and artists, that story is pretty good. Is it enough for you? That’s none of my business.

And Mr. Owens’ is none of ours.

 

Spread the word!

I bet you know a lot of artists and entrepreneurs who would benefit from this conversation around the story we tell ourselves. Share this post with them on social media, or better yet, send them a personalized email with this link.

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