I'm leaving advertising for nursing. Here's why.

Four years ago, at the very beginning of Lockdown, one of my closest and dearest friends died of COVID. She was 34. Three weeks later my grandmother died of COVID in a Bronx nursing home. Normally that would be a great time to use bereavement leave, but I was working at Better.

The company culture was one of hyper growth and if you didn't do the work exactly when and how they wanted, they loved to tell you that they'd find someone else who would. My now wife, but then devoted partner, was freelancing somewhere that was many months behind on her pay, and I couldn't risk my job—especially with so much economic uncertainty.

So I worked through it. Nights. Weekends. I went to my grandmother's Zoom funeral, cried, then attended a meeting about A/B testing landing pages for a new mortgage product. I worked all weekend SEO hacking a Pride blog post while my neighborhood burned during the George Floyd civil unrest. I watched the Jan 6th Insurrection on YouTube while the CEO jumped on Slack to tell everyone to focus on work.

I played the good soldier so I could support the both of us and one day afford one of these mortgages I was selling. For that I was presented with a PIP. I had the audacity to ask for process and accountability from stakeholders in the form of creative briefs—something that was not part of the workflow. Like so many PIP's it was filled with vague language and moveable goalposts. God forbid there were mistakes in drafts when I was carrying the bulk of the workload, working seven days a week, and grieving in my spare time.

The person who put me on a PIP was eventually fired for bullying and secured a golden parachute worth eight figures. The CEO went on to be the first of his ilk to fire hundreds via Zoom. The company just did a reverse split to avoid being delisted from the Nasdaq even after getting bailed out by their VC daddy.

I survived my PIP and the layoffs after consulting an employment lawyer and overextending myself even further. But for what?

What was I even suffering for? Banner ads? Emails? Facebook posts? Any portfolio worthy work—work creatives are required to have for advancement—was compromised by stakeholders and clients. My ability to advance sat on a house of cards. A client can get cold feet and pull the plug. Your CMO can change all of your copy overnight. Your creative director can decide she wants to go in a different direction during pre production. I’ve lived it, and it cost me money.?

Even if we get an opportunity to make "cool shit"—as every cocksure creative director loves to say—your reward is death by a million paper cuts. Everyone wants to get their greasy fingerprints on a good idea. Budgets get cut. You can’t choose your director because they’re bundling your shoot with another. Approval after approval. Edit after edit. At the end of the whole process your pet project is drowned in a sea of thousands of brand voices. Your work is disposable. The next time you see your baby, it’ll come with a “skip” button.?

And I don’t blame anyone for skipping, unsubscribing, or turning a blind eye. Every minute of every day is overloaded with ads. They’re as inescapable as they are obnoxious. WTF is Strauss and why is it on a Yankees helmet? Why is a Heineken billboard floating down the Hudson River? Why am I punished for everything I buy with a million emails?

The brands and businesses we work for are just as vapid and abundant as the communications they create. They’re not interested in solving problems for consumers. All they do is try to funnel every cent to the shareholders by stripping the quality from the products, trapping people in subscriptions, and eliminating customer support. Even with all the corner cutting companies like DoorDash, Uber, Amazon (without AWS) aren't even profitable.?There aren't any more big ideas. Companies use murky business practices to scoop up the remaining pennies they allow us to have.

The big ideas were bad to begin with. We've seen these Silicon Valley sweethearts disrupt in the worst ways possible. Meta disrupted an election and the fabric of reality itself. AirBnB disrupted the real estate space. Now six figure earners can't afford property. Google used to be a useful tool. Now it's like opening up your junk drawer filled with trash you've yet to buy.?

FAANG is aptly named because it sucks the lifeblood from the world—holding it in sight, but just out of reach. We live in a skinner-box nightmare where we chase stability from those who are destabilizing. And these carpet baggers rob customers and employees alike. We’re trapped in a never ending cycle of hiring and firing to juice the prospectus and harvest revenue. This isn’t full time employment. It’s fancy freelance.

Then there's the culture. I've worked with so many brilliant minds and kind souls, but at the end of the day we're all at the mercy of the most ruthless, competitive, deceitful, and incompetent. I've had my ideas stolen by my creative director and given their pet team. I've been thrown under the bus and betrayed by my own creative partner. I've had clients and bosses who think it's best to "neg" their partners to save a buck. The “net 30” bullshit that turns into “net whenever.” I've had to fight tooth and nail for every dollar I've earned and I've been chronically underpaid. I can't even move to an area that's more affordable because of RTO, but I’ve had to watch as my boss telecommutes from across the galaxy.

Pick your cliche. The juice isn’t worth the squeeze. That’s a long walk for a ham sandwich. I’m done. It’s not worth it.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," you say. "So what? You couldn't hack it and now you're going to an even more thankless job. You gonna cry about being a nurse, too?"

Probably, but for different reasons.

At least I'll know that my hard work goes toward keeping someone alive. I'll still have to deal with irate and unreasonable people, but I'll know it comes from a place of fear and vulnerability instead of ego and office politics. And sure, there will be hospital floor politics, and employment issues. This is still America. But what it all boils down to is "who are you helping and what are you making?"

I don't want to help the rich get richer while making junk mail. I want to help real people with real problems. I want to make living and dying with respect and dignity possible. I want to make scared people laugh. I want to hold hands with someone and pray to a god I don't even know because that's what they need. I want to bring life into the world. I want to be pragmatic. And I want to do it around people who would rather help their coworkers come up than keep them constantly watching their backs.

There’s also job security. There’s a union. There are raises every year, loan forgiveness, and access to further education. It’s harder to be gaslit by management. Instead of competing with your coworkers for raises and promotions that rarely come, you all get an equal share of the pie. You work and stand shoulder to shoulder.

No more filling your retirement fund with your own company’s useless stock instead of a real paycheck. No more getting sent to the glue factory at the age of 50.?

How do I know how this all works? I've been volunteering in a local emergency department. I worked my tail off for the patients, techs, nurses, and doctors and I felt appreciated. People I’d never met would stop me and say “you work so hard” or “you really care.” Those people became my friends, and recommenders for nursing school.?

I texted my recommender to tell him I’d been accepted. When I arrived for my next shift everyone was congratulating me. Hugs. High fives. The works. These are the same people who watched me fumble my way through the ED when I first started. They held my hand and showed me the ropes. They protected me from violence. They asked me if I was okay after traumatic experiences. Hard work was enough to earn their trust and I was rewarded with community.

I can't really say that about most places I've worked.

If what I've said resonates with you and you're looking for meaning, let me tell you it's very possible. It's hard. I worked and was laid off multiple times while attending classes. This year I've had four jobs and at least three simultaneously while taking chemistry, volunteering, and applying.

But it's so goddamned worth it. When you are the light at the end of your tunnel. When you realize your brain can still learn and it's fun. When you leave your desk and spend time on your feet. Come on in. The water is dope AF.

You don't have to be a nurse. You can be a welder. You can be a stagehand—that's one of my current jobs and I got to meet Ludacris. You can run for local office. Do something tangible and rewarding.

I will say none of this is possible without your community and your people. My wife. My friends. My family. Of course I've had help. Everyone needs help. But if you're a good person and you've cultivated trust, don't be afraid to cash in some social currency to follow a dream. Just remember to pay it back.

I didn't get to see a lot of my friend before she died in 2020. She was busy climbing the corporate ladder at Google. If she knew she didn't have much time, I think she would have reprioritized. I'm going to spend every minute I have left doing something that matters. For her. For my grandma. For me.