‘I cried all the way home’: Why Phoebe said no to their dream job

At the start of this year I landed my dream job … and decided to turn it down.

It was a role that aligned with my values, skills and interests of cooking, gardening and fostering a positive relationship to food.

When I saw the job listing pop up, I imagined my life finally falling into place — this three-day-per-week role supplementing my income so I could move out of home, whilst having an admirable job others could easily understand.

Up until this point, I had freelanced and run my own small business. It was work I was proud of and found creatively fulfilling. However, at 26, I felt the pressure to have a “real job” and a conventional, impressive answer to the question “and what do you do?”.

It was the first formal interview I’d ever done and I busted my gut in preparation.

Everyone I told affirmed I was the perfect fit for the role and as the day drew closer, I started to feel the pressure of it working out.

By the morning of, I’d lost my appetite and was wondering if I even still wanted the job. But I pushed that thought down, sniffled back the worst hay fever I’d ever had (thank you stress) and made my way to the interview.

The interview was frustrating and confusing as it became clear that the responsibilities of the position were far greater than those advertised and more in line with a full-time position.

Feeling incredibly green and unsure of what to do in this situation, I answered their questions as best I could — weaving in my relevant skills, values and experience so at least my preparation hadn’t all gone to waste.

The interviewers’ experience of that interview, however, was evidently far different from my own, as that evening they called to offer me the job.

Feeling emotionally whip-lashed, I’m proud of myself for mustering a level head in that moment to say I needed a few days to think about it.

To help guide my decision, I tried making a pros and cons list on the merits of accepting the job.

I fluffed out the positives column with reasons that looked good on paper (a salary and ability to “make a difference”), but I couldn’t inject them with any sway or excitement. I hadn’t warmed to the workplace and was deeply put-off by their oversight of what the job involved.

As for the cons, with my autistic communication and sensory differences, I suspected under these increased demands I would quickly burn out. I’d spent the year prior recovering from work-related exhaustion and was committed to not putting myself in a similar situation again.

Having learnt I was autistic only months before, it was hard to let go of the idea of what my “masked self” could technically do well (at least for an afternoon). But that meant I was not accounting for the physical and psychological toll this job would take if it became a full-time commitment.

Even so, I didn’t feel like I could say no. Turning down a job, let alone a “dream” one in this economy felt ungrateful.

To add to the internal conflict, I felt like a fraud for convincing employers I could do a job I now wasn’t sure I could.

Ultimately, I could think my way round and round but I knew what my answer would be.

I turned the job down and the level of stress that immediately left my body assured me I’d made the right call.

In speaking with friends and mentors, I realised that the best jobs (no matter how seemingly well-suited) generally have two key ingredients — a supportive environment and a manageable workload.

Previously, I’d been focused on how the job looked from the outside, not whether the day-to-day responsibilities suited me.

But sitting in that interview I was confronted with my varying strengths and limits and forced to acknowledge that how I present externally does not reflect my many (often internalised) differences and difficulties.

Fast forward a few months and I got a casual role that aligned with my values and — crucially — this time, my capability.

I felt more self-assured in the interview process having done it before and although less excited about the role, I knew it was an important, more manageable stepping stone to eventual greater employment, as it addressed subtle skill and confidence gaps my previous self-employment was not able to.

So yes, this year my work has merely resembled a gentle evolution of what came the year before. I’m still living at home and far from financially independent, but I’ve grown in sustainable ways that will make employment more doable in the years to come.

I think I’ve realised I’m someone who needs the rungs on life’s ladder to be closer together, and that’s OK. I have more confidence than ever that I will get to where I want to be.

Phoebe Thorburn is an autistic writer, cook and developer of inclusive vegan & gluten-free recipes. They are currently writing their first multidisciplinary cookbook.