We read so much about burnout in the workplace, burnout in terms of physical training, and even burnout in personal relationships (marriages are work, people, don’t let anybody tell you otherwise). But what do we do to fix this? How do we return to a place of love for our activity of choice (or person of choice)?

If you’re me, you take a bit of a break from teaching and visit the retail world.

I spent a couple of years trying to escape the hold that teaching has on me. I am an adjunct, which means that the semester, my work contract, and the classes I am assigned govern my life. My pay is never certain until almost halfway through the semester, in some cases. I have no office, no official work phone. I am like a tortoise, carrying my office with me – it’s in the hallway outside of class, after a student whispers, “Can I talk to you outside?” or it’s in a series of emails or conversations in an empty classroom before class begins.

Escaping the adjunct cycle is not easy, especially if you are like me and you won’t compromise the promise you make every semester to your schools and to your students (to be there every class meeting and to teach to the best of my ability).

I sent out SO. MANY. APPLICATIONS. I got an offer to return to the legal profession, but it just wasn’t a good fit for me. I got an offer – and took it – to work as a “beauty advisor” at Sephora, and honestly, had no idea how much I would love it.

It didn’t take long, after I learned the ropes, to figure out why I loved that Sephora job so much. I was a teacher still, but instead of teaching transition phrases or the importance of a strong thesis statement, I was teaching young people the importance of sunscreen, or showing older folks how to avoid raccoon eyes after wearing mascara for a while.

I was energized by my contact with clients in the store, and of course, I loved walking around the store myself, swatching makeup and nerding out with the other employees over new merchandise. I laughed my ass off at Johnny Ross’s “Working at Sephora” videos (I have never felt so seen in all my life).

I loved working with all (or almost all) women – being in a woman-led workplace was a new experience for me, and being in a woman-dominated workplace was even more so. In a way, I felt like a voyeur, watching these young women in their natural habitat, listening to their bawdy conversations at lunch, and being bowled over by their incredible strength and independence. I wanted to be them when I grow up, and I still do.

Making the decision to leave was terribly difficult, and I will always remember clocking out for the last time and Becca telling me that I would be so happy that I had left, and that it was the right thing to do. She was so right. I am so happy, even though I miss those women terribly.

I needed the break, though, from teaching “for real” and while I still had classes going on, they were not as much of a focus for me. I learned a couple of things, doing this:

It’s impossible to live on the salary paid to a lowly retail worker and simultaneously avoid damaging your health. I came home from work every time in terrible pain, the more pain the longer I worked. I spent the last two Christmases sick, and never got Covid until I worked at Sephora.

I am a teacher. I can’t help it. When I say that it’s my calling, I’m finding that that’s not hyperbole. That’s what I am here to do, and struggling against that is pointless.

I love talking about writing. I love talking about makeup. I love helping people find ways to make their lives better.

I’m in the classroom for 9 classes this semester, which is more than I have ever taught, but I’m excited, I’m not in pain after work (unless I have read an especially atrocious essay, that is), and hopefully, I will be able to pay a few more bills than I did working at Sephora (Sorry about that, Discover, my bad).