My daughter was back in her childhood bedroom, a freshly printed college diploma somewhere in the pile of boxes she brought back from her university. Her time was divided between working retail to have some money coming in and applying for jobs.
Our household was all aflutter when the call for an interview in Washington, D.C., popped up. But after months, the job fell through.
At the time, I was only two years into my job as an assistant at a local newspaper, easing onto the career ramp after two decades of raising children and freelance writing.
I heard about a copy editor position at my company. I imagined my daughter could work as a copy editor while searching for that dream job — that big shot job in a government agency, that publishing work that took her to New York City, that job in advertising with a salary that allowed her to indulge in her love of travel.
I’d love to say I got my daughter a corner office and a six-figure salary. I didn’t. I just had a two-minute conversation when I ran into the city editor on the stairs at work. All I did was get her on the editor’s radar and encourage her to apply. She got herself the copy editor job.
I’ve spent a decade wondering if I did the right thing.
She started her career at my company
It was unclear if my daughter thought the copy editor job was a great first step or if she was just tired of working a retail job with no benefits. But after an interview, my daughter accepted the job offer.
We began passing each other every afternoon as I finished my day shift, and she began the awkward 4 p.m. to midnight shift required of copy editors for the morning edition.
Occasionally, she would mention a job opening, but those occasions became less frequent. It’s tough to hold down a full-time job, do some freelance writing, have some sort of personal life, and search for your dream job.
After five years, she moved on to a larger newspaper and a bump in salary. She settled into her new apartment, built a new community, and thrived. She survived changes brought on by the pandemic, the unpredictability of her company changing hands, and a shift to a different position.
I wonder if I forced her into an unstable career
Although my daughter is happy, for years I have been worrying. I’ve wanted her to pivot to a more stable industry. Those worries only magnified when my newspaper was sold and I found myself jobless in what I had hoped would be my final decade in the workplace.
Each day, I slogged through a lengthy job search. Each night, I lay in bed balancing offered salaries and benefits packages, thinking about my sparse retirement savings, wondering about the viability of Social Security payments. With many years of low salaries in a dying industry, would retirement ever be a possibility for me?
I knew my daughter would someday deal with these same questions, and I worried I had made the wrong decision getting her that job all those years ago. I sometimes wish she could have dreamed bigger than working for low wages in local journalism.
My daughter loves what she does
So why does she stay in a dying industry? There’s a saying in the newspaper industry: “They have printer’s ink in their veins.” That’s her.
She believes in the importance of community journalism. She wants to be one of the people focusing on the shenanigans of the local politicians, the achievements of the high school athletes, and the success of the local businesses.
Although it may not be reflected in their salaries, my daughter and her co-workers’ work is important.
So, some days, I regret nudging her toward life in the newspaper industry. But on other days, I am so proud that I want to shout it to the world.
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