Why Work?
Photo: Dylan Thomas by Lee Miller.
There’s plenty of videos, articles and books about how to write a book, make a video, do any kind of art form, or even learn a trade — and this is great as it gives people enough of an insight to try things out.
But I’ve never come across anything that discusses why we should work. Maybe it’s so embedded in our culture, from our earliest years, all through school and over family meals, that it’s just taken for granted that we simply have to get a job after our educational process. Like walking or breathing, we just do it. But why?
Why do I work?
The starting point for me was when I was 9 years old, the age that I became aware that I was an independent entity and didn’t have to rely on my parents for everything. But I had a problem with school — I didn’t understand why I was there or what was going on. I felt stupid, bored and angry. I took out my frustrations on my three brothers, all of whom got on really well at school, and we fought like cat and dog most days of the week.
I knew I had to get away from the toxic family environment I had created and the first opportunity was to visit my aunt Virginia in England (we lived in Scotland). I was allowed to get the train to visit her and nobody blinked an eyelid that I was travelling alone. This, to me, was excitement and independence and when my cousin taught me how to smoke cigarettes I felt very grown up.
At around that age I realised that work (doing a job) was another means of getting away from my brothers, from boredom, and the expectation to do homework. It was also what adults spent their days doing so it had, for me, a certain allure, an attraction.
My first “job” was more like a short lived company: I would cut down Christmas trees in the local woods — we lived in deep countryside near the Scottish town of Peebles — and sell them to neighbours. It was a powerful moment as I was proving to myself that I could take a step towards independence.
My next big moment was at university in Liverpool where I realised that going to lectures, reading books in the library, and hanging out with my geeky colleagues was really boring. I met a relative at a wedding who put me in touch with a property developer who hired me as a labourer on his building site — and I was in heaven as most of the tradesmen on site were ex-cons and the banter was hilarious. Lunch break consisted of going to the pub and drinking as much beer as we could. One of them later told me, “What we like about you Rupert is that we can take the piss, but you don’t take offence. It’s like water off a duck’s back.” That was high praise from a tough scouser who’d spent three years inside for burglary.
By this stage in life I had worked out how to play the educational game — a minimal effort would see me through. The burden I’d carried through my first 10 years of school — that I’m an idiot — had been replaced with a powerful confidence that I could do anything I put my mind to — and a drive to help others get over those same barriers. The fact that I’d been able to get work easily — driving a truck for my Dad and selling books for my Mum’s publishing company were other jobs I did when a student — added to my self confidence. And confidence is a key requirement when travelling independently or getting jobs.
After university I avoided the siren call of big business and decided to hitchhike to Shanghai, and prove to myself that I’d be able to get a job without the benign influence of my parents. I never made it to Shanghai as I fell in love with Tibet where I found work as an English teacher, got kicked out by the Chinese police and ended up falling into journalism.
Since then I worked as a volunteer aid worker in Romania and Bosnia-Herzegovina and, after getting married, I realised that I needed to earn some real money. I managed to worm my way into working as a consultant for EU and British government projects in Romania, Russia and the former Yugoslavia. I also worked as a PR consultant and, since lockdown, as a painter/decorator and gardener.
If I look back and ask myself why I did all those jobs, and what drove me, the main answer can be summed up in one word: independence. It’s all very well wanting to be independent but how can you survive for more than a few months on your savings? You may have rich parents but they’ll probably be worried, nagging you to come home, find a suitable wife, get a well paid job (“Daddy will arrange it!”) and settle down. You’ll soon realise that the only way to stay on the road, to maintain your independence, is to not only get a job — but learn how to get jobs quickly, anywhere.
But that’s not a complete answer; there’s something else at play here. I need to work or I get bored, lazy and depressed. The fact that work gives me motivation to get up in the morning, and provides an easy-to-follow programme for the day is what I’ve grown up with. It’s a part of my culture.
I first became aware of this problem — the sloth that comes with unemployment — when I finished running an EU project in Romania. The project had been really demanding, it required all my energy and time, and I was looking forward to a few months off when I’d be able to catch up with my sleep, hobbies, house repairs etc. But what happened? Nothing. Doing the most basic tasks seemed to take forever. All my energy, drive, and focus just evaporated. Why? Because I didn’t have anything I had to do every day; I had no reason to get up in the morning. When your intention is to do hobbies or exercises you always have a choice: shall I do it today or not? With work you don’t have that choice — you just have to show up.
In order to stay motivated, structured and focused I realised that I need a job — or an intense project — or I would enable the lazy part of my character, get nothing done and end up being miserable. I need a job of some sort to get out of bed in the morning.
Retirement is a useful concept to end this article on, but I think that it’s a trap. If I stop working in four years time, at the age of 67, as one is supposed to do, it will emotionally disable me and probably lead to an early grave. I intend to work until I drop, or have to be carried off, gibbering and dribbling, to a care home.
So, in conclusion, why work? I do it so I can live happily and longer than I would do otherwise.
Now it’s over to you: Will you leave a comment below? Most comments add to the richness of my articles. Maybe you could explain what motivates you to work? Or not; I’d also be interested in any comments that explains the rationale for not working, or describing something other than work which can provide the daily motivation we all need to go on. Or maybe you could just tell the story of your first job?
My book 12 Jobs in 12 Months will be published in February 2026, by Stone Books (Edinburgh).
Final note: the photo associated with this article is of the great Welsh poet Dylan Thomas, by Lee Miller.
