What makes work work?

On the first day of my new job, I reached into an office cab­i­net to take out a cof­fee mug and, to my sur­prise and delight, emerged with one that car­ried the logo for Northampton’s annual Hot Choco­late Run for Safe Passage.

As reg­u­lar read­ers know, I’d just left my beloved Northamp­ton – a west­ern Mass­a­chu­setts col­lege town where I’d hoped to put down roots – to take a job in Boston. I’d par­tic­i­pated in the Hot Choco­late Run sev­eral times myself, and pick­ing up this mug—on my very first day!—struck me as crazily serendip­i­tous, you might even say, a sign.

Over time, how­ever, I’ve come to see it as some­thing else: A reflec­tion of the fact that I’d landed in a sim­patico work­place culture.

The cof­fee mug inci­dent wasn’t the only clue. There was also the fact that, when I inter­viewed, the two future col­leagues with whom I had lunch were both Bud­dhist med­i­ta­tors. The fact that my depart­ment head took time off from work to cam­paign for her (and my) can­di­date before November’s elec­tion. The fact that I love my col­leagues’ dis­tinc­tive scarves and ear rings. I could go on.

Much advice about career tran­si­tions focuses on the what—on fig­ur­ing out what you want to do and then find­ing a place to do it. Do you want to take cases to trial? Do you want to write about food? Do you want to coun­sel women in cri­sis? Do you want to teach kids?

Yes, it’s impor­tant to have a sense of what you want to do—but I’ve found that it’s equally (or more) impor­tant to con­sider the where and the how.

I love to write. Whether I’m work­ing on a Plan B Nation post (like this one) or a speech about health care, I tend to lose myself in the process of putting words together—to enter that state of absorp­tion famously described as flow.

But that isn’t to say that I’d love any job that involves lots of writing—and speak­ing from expe­ri­ence, I can tell you that I would not. My cur­rent job isn’t the most pres­ti­gious I’ve ever had, and it’s not the most high-paying. It is, how­ever, over­all, one of the more satisfying.

So what accounts for job sat­is­fac­tion? Over time, I’ve come to iden­tify the qual­i­ties that mat­ter most to me, which inci­den­tally, can all be traced directly to work­place cul­ture.  Here are three examples:

1. Auton­omy

I’m far from alone here—lots of research sug­gests that auton­omy is crit­i­cal to on-the-job sat­is­fac­tion. (One inter­est­ing recent study found that high-level lead­ers have less stress than those lower on the cor­po­rate food chain, with researchers hypoth­e­siz­ing that this counter-intuitive result stems from the fact that the higher-ups have more con­trol over their lives.)

That said, I sus­pect auton­omy is more impor­tant to some of us than oth­ers. For me, it’s really impor­tant, and my most dif­fi­cult pro­fes­sional expe­ri­ences have been in work­place cul­tures where this cre­ates ten­sion. (“I feel like I’ve spent the year try­ing to keep you in the box, and you’ve spent the year try­ing to get out,” one super­vi­sor rue­fully remarked many years ago.) I could be writ­ing the coolest thing in the word, but if I’m being micro-managed, I’m not going to be happy.

2. Bal­ance

I don’t care how much I like what I’m doing: I don’t want to do it 110 hours a week. For that rea­son alone, I was never going to be happy in the sort of firm where I spent my first two years after law school.

It’s no secret that in the post-Recession world, work has got­ten more demand­ing, as lay­offs and increased “effi­cien­cies” cre­ate more work for those who remain. Still, while I roll my eyes at sug­ges­tions that employ­ees sim­ply need to do a bet­ter job set­ting lim­its, the issue of bal­ance is a real one. If you’re unhappy at work, is it because of what you’re doing or is it because of how much? And if you’re lucky enough to have some choice: How much is it worth to you to have time to ded­i­cate to other parts of your life? For me, it’s worth a lot.

3.  Mis­sion

A shared sense of larger mission–such as the one that infuses my work at Har­vard School of Pub­lic Health—is a through-line, enrich­ing good days and giv­ing mean­ing to the inevitable minor slumps. In my expe­ri­ence, it’s also more likely to lead to warm work­place friendships—which them­selves have been found to cor­re­late with job sat­is­fac­tion and suc­cess.

Even Cal New­port—an out­spo­ken critic of the “fol­low your pas­sion” school of decision-making—discourages peo­ple from tak­ing a job they think is use­less or actively bad for the world. His rea­son­ing is partly prag­matic: If you feel this way, you’re prob­a­bly going to have a hard time stick­ing around long enough to build up the sort of career cap­i­tal that you’ll need to move for­ward long-term.

* * *

In 2011, as the Great Reces­sion ground onward, I found myself scratch­ing my head over a New York Times arti­cle with the head­line “Maybe It’s Time for Plan C.”  The piece recounted the sto­ries of sev­eral peo­ple who traded steady jobs for entre­pre­neur­ial oppor­tu­ni­ties, launch­ing busi­nesses that included a Greek food stall, a wed­ding plan­ning busi­ness, and an online ceram­ics store. As New­port might have pre­dicted, it wasn’t long before they were over­whelmed. “I preach to my stu­dents to make time for them­selves, to treat their bod­ies as vital instru­ments. Now I’m lucky if I get that a few times a month,” said a mar­ket­ing pro­fes­sional turned Pilates instructor.

But here’s the curi­ous thing: Only one of the peo­ple inter­viewed regret­ted their deci­sions. While the piece didn’t offer any expla­na­tion, I have an idea. Even harder than work­ing for your­self is work­ing in an alien cul­ture. If that was their alter­na­tive, these choices make total sense.

What work­place cul­ture qual­i­ties are impor­tant to you? Please share your thoughts in the com­ments section.

© 2013, amy gut­man. All rights reserved.