As people struggle through their first week back at work after the holidays, thoughts often turn to throwing in a career to follow a dream. Di White talks to two people who have done just that.
"It made me feel better having something to do at the end of the night, a process to go through: photograph it and write about it, and then tie it in with how I was actually feeling." Photo: Jordan Dodson/The Wireless
Delaney Mes used to be a lawyer with a food blog and dreams of her own food empire. She was working what for many law graduates would be considered the dream job: a highly sought after government role in a stimulating area of law. But for Delaney, it plainly wasn’t. “I always knew law wasn’t quite the best fit for my personality”, she says, “I knew there would be something out there that I would be good at, but I always knew law wouldn’t be it.”
Last year, Delaney, otherwise known as Heartbreak Pie, took the plunge. She quit her stable, well-respected law job and traded it in for a life juggling paid food writing, a business hosting and catering dinner parties, and part-time nannying – and now she couldn’t be happier.
Three years earlier, Delaney’s long-term boyfriend had left her to follow his dream of living on a boat as a fisherman. Desperate for a distraction, Delaney took to cooking, baking and writing about it. “It made me feel better having something to do at the end of the night, a process to go through: photograph it and write about it, and then tie it in with how I was actually feeling.”
As seen in the rise of celebrity chefs such as Nigella Lawson, Yotam Ottolenghi, and Jamie Oliver, food writing has become as much about personality as what is on the plate. Delaney’s formula was simple: tell a story through delicious, interesting food. Whether it was a lonely night at home curled up on the couch eating comfort food, a summer brunch in the backyard, or a blind date ending with greasy burgers at 3am, Delaney quickly found her niche as a blogger talking about life and the food that went with it.
Initially, she didn’t expect much – perhaps the obligatory comments from her mum and a few close friends reading it on their lunchbreaks. But Delaney had stumbled upon a new trend: one that would eventually result in the tidal wave of eggs Benedict snaps rinsed through a smartphone filter, and season after season of Masterchef. New Zealand now has a number of well-known and established food bloggers, but Delaney was one of the first. She admits she “got in at a good time”.
But it took another two years for Delaney to leave her day job. She felt paralysed: she knew she needed a change but didn’t want to move to another job in the law. So she decided to do what many other disillusioned 20-somethings do: move overseas – and in order to save, moved back in with her parents in Auckland.
Doing her job, and her food-blogging on the side was exhausting and stressful for Delaney Mes Photo: Jordan Dodson/The Wireless
What was meant to be a couple of months turned into a year. It soon became clear she wouldn’t be moving overseas. “For a long time, I kept saying, ‘I have to get out, I have to go overseas’. But the reality was, I’d built up these networks and managed to achieve all of this off my own back and in my spare time, and I could see it all turning into something. I didn’t want to give up on that just for the sake of living in London.”
So she stayed – in Auckland and in a job that patently wasn’t what she wanted to be doing, while continuing to build Heartbreak Pie on the side. It was exhausting and stressful but it seemed to be the only option.
We always imagine momentous life moments will happen with a bang. The reality is they often don’t. The pressure mounts and builds over time, and eventually change comes with a quiet hiss. When Delaney’s cousin needed a nanny, she realised that between nannying, her regular writing work and throwing dinner parties – and living at home – she had enough to make it work. There would never be a perfect time, but now was as good a time as ever.
The tipping point came when she returned to work – visibly miserable – at the start of 2013. Her manager sat her down. “What are you doing? You’re so passionate when you talk about all the other stuff you’re doing, I know that you’re not happy here. Now is the time to do it.” And so she did.
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Pursuing your dream may sound whimsical but the reality is often far more humbling. “My first shitty nappy was traumatic,” Delaney admits. Then there was the dinner party at which one of the guests enjoyed themselves a little too much and Delaney found her scrubbing vomit off the floors of a bathroom. “I found myself at midnight, on my hands and knees, cleaning up this toilet with paper towels and I just thought to myself, ‘Still better than law, still better than working in an office’”. But the nappies have enabled a stable income, and before cleaning the toilets Delaney had prepared a four-course meal, decorated a room and thrown a dinner party. It’s the dream – warts and all.
As 2013 drew to an end, Delaney had an office space, an accountant, a regular column in Auckland arts and culture magazine, Metro, as well as her column in FishHead magazine, a long list of Christmas functions and other catering functions, a new website to launch, and even bigger plans for 2014. “This year has been the year of working it all out. What does it look like when I’m not working? It’s been a rollercoaster.”
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If Delaney took the plunge in 2013, poet and storyteller Alina Siegfried, better known as Ali Jacs, dipped her toes in the water. Ali is a performance poet, who recently ended a three-year stint working at Parliament. She discovered spoken word poetry, otherwise known as slam poetry, when she was living in Saskatoon, Canada. She was working for an NGO raising public awareness around water issues – and constantly hitting the same, hard wall of apathy.
People say to me ‘you must’ve been so scared, leaving this safe job’, but more terrifying would have been staying there and not giving it a go.
Performance poetry offered a new way to engage audiences: harnessing the power of storytelling to connect rather than lecture communities about important issues. “I became so ingrained in the scene, it was such a supportive community, so willing to share their stories, that I got up on stage on my last poetry evening there and announced to about 100 people that if I didn’t find the same performance poetry scene wherever I ended up in NZ, I would start one.”
Ali ended up in Wellington. After about a year of poetry readings and open mic nights, it was clear there was nothing quite like what she had experienced in Canada. So began Poetry in Motion: a monthly performance poetry evening, with a combination of big name national and international acts, and the opportunity for new, emerging performance poets to take the stage. “There is certainly something to be said for publicly making a commitment. If I hadn’t done that, I’m not sure I would’ve come back and did what I did.”
As Poetry in Motion grew, so too did Ali’s profile as a performance poet. In 2012, she won the New Zealand National Poetry Slam. The title opened doors: suddenly everyone wanted her to perform at their gigs and run their workshops. Ali realised she could build a career in storytelling.
Like Delaney, it was a year-and-a-half before that dream started to look more like a reality. At the end of 2013, Ali left her role at Parliament and took up the position of senior communications wrangler with Loomio, a Wellington-based social enterprise aimed at improving democratic decision-making within groups and communities.
“There is certainly something to be said for publicly making a commitment. If I hadn’t done that, I’m not sure I would’ve come back and did what I did.” Photo: Supplied
It’s the natural fit for Ali, who emerged from the Parliamentary environment jaded and disillusioned about the state of our democratic system. “During my three years working for Parliamentary Services, I really enjoyed learning about how our parliamentary system works, but I had some frustrations with what modern democracy looks like – not just in New Zealand, but in many places around the world.”
“I thought this was a perfect opportunity to work on something that was collaborative rather than adversarial; the opportunity to communicate the story of this social enterprise that has set out to transform the way any group makes democratic decisions.”
Eventually Ali hopes to make a living running performance poetry workshops: using storytelling and public speaking techniques to enable businesses and organisations to communicate better – both internally and externally. Her job enables Ali to build upon her communication skills while working alongside other social entrepreneurs. While it may not be the dream itself, it’s a big step in that direction.
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There’s a good reason why so few people pursue their dream job. It’s tough: jobs are scarce – especially for young people, and it invariably involves sacrifices. It requires getting up one day, throwing caution into the wind and doing something that, on paper, doesn’t really make a lot of sense. “I’ve gone from a steady public servant job to what’s essentially a four-month contract on a much-reduced salary, with no guaranteed job security,” Ali says. “For quite a few people, it may not be within their reach to do that.”
Both Delaney and Ali realise they are products of fortunate circumstances. Both are young. Both have support: Delaney from her parents and Alina from her partner. Once a mortgage and family enter the equation, pursuing an unstable and uncertain dream becomes all but impossible. For Ali, who is marrying her partner Mandy in February, it really was now or never.
Then there are those who argue that doing what you love as a means to live can change the way you do it. All jobs require compromise, and it’s no different when it’s a job doing what you love. Delaney has grappled with a pressure many food writers face: brands seeking favourable reviews in exchange for product or money. “I got asked to blog about a coffee brand for money and they wanted it to be ‘subtle’. But I said no. I had no money in my bank account when I said no, but my whole brand has been built on honestly held opinions. It wasn’t the right fit for what I do.”
When I ask them both why more people don’t leave their steady, sometimes soul-destroying jobs and follow their long-held dreams, neither skip a beat in giving the same answer: fear. “I think people get into safe routines and can’t see what the alternative would look like, and that’s really terrifying,” Delaney says. “People say to me ‘you must’ve been so scared, leaving this safe job’, but more terrifying would have been staying there and not giving it a go.” Ali agrees: “Sometimes you actually have to let go of one trapeze before you can grab onto the next one.”
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