Tom Keane

Flex Time

The best career choice today is no choice at all.

A word of advice to those of you trying to choose a career: Don't.

I know this counsel runs contrary to prevailing wisdom. We live in a world where those in college, even high school, are pummeled with the message that it is important to decide -- now -- what it is they wish to be. Indeed, perhaps not what they wish to be, but what they already are. Psychological tests and career counseling services such as the Keirsey Temperament Sorter, Career Maze, or the Motivational Appraisal of Personal Potential profess to reveal who you are and what job you should hold. (I take one and discover I'm "energetic, friendly, and outspoken." I take it again and I'm "quiet, reserved, and kind." My real personality? I cheat.) By these lights, careers are almost Calvinistic things (that would be the doctrine, not the cartoon), with our only challenge being to discover the nature of our predestination so that we might be happy the rest of our days.

Even if you don't buy this thinking (and I don't), the pressure to choose is ever-present. I see my kids going through it right now. It once was the case that colleges, liberal arts colleges in particular, were anti-careerist bastions that believed education was an end to itself, not merely a pathway to work. Today, students and parents don't seem to buy that as they once did, and instead want a return on their tuition that is measured in dollars, not brainpower. That explains why selecting a college major -- once merely an academic decision about concentrating on a particular field -- now is freighted with lifelong consequence. The College Majors Handbook With Real Career Paths and Payoffs is typical of this new attitude, promising readers it will reveal "which majors are the best investment, the job and salary prospects for specific majors, [and] the employment growth rates for particular majors." So much for the joys of intellectual self-discovery.

Yet, does picking a career early on really help, particularly if one understands a career to be more than those first few jobs after school and instead the sum total of one's working life? I think not.

People change -- arguably, more today than ever. The things we may like in our late teens and 20s might be vastly different a decade or two later. A century ago, lives were circumscribed by the limits of transportation, communication, and education. Today's smaller, interconnected world makes change omnipresent. You can see that in the way we work, flitting from job to job. (The US Bureau of Labor Statistics, for example, estimates that the youngest members of the baby boomer generation held an average of 10.8 jobs from ages 18 to 42. And that was before the recession.)

It's not only that we're changing jobs, but that jobs are changing, too. I look at a helpful career listing put out by the College Board. Many big categories, such as the environment and health technology, are almost brand new, encompassing technologies and desires that didn't exist a generation ago. A generation from now? Who knows? Meanwhile, long-established jobs are going away. As churchgoing diminishes, so, too, will the demand for ministers. And how about travel agents, TV repairmen, photo developers, secretaries, gas station attendants, farmers, and much of manufacturing? All are declining as well, due to changes in competition, technology, and tastes.

My point is simply this: When it comes to careers, you can't plan for the future. The best you can do is to prepare yourself for it. Part of doing that is to make sure you have the basic skills needed for any job: reading, writing, math, science, and, of course, a solid familiarity with computers. But this is the kind of stuff one learns in high school (or at least, should learn in high school). How about college? Higher ed should teach you to think, to solve complex problems, to communicate, to work with others, and to develop an open, flexible, and inquiring mind.

Those are the qualities employers say they look for in job candidates, according to a recent survey by the National Association of Colleges and Employers, and, interestingly enough, those are exactly the qualities a good liberal arts education is supposed to deliver. Those are also the same qualities that might make you a happier, more fulfilled person as well. It's an old-fashioned idea that is increasingly relevant today: Early on, it's better to expand one's options, not close them off.

Originally published in The Boston Globe Magazine, March 29, 2009.  Illustration by Mark Matcho.

A Case for American Dynasties

Sometimes, bestowing power on a family name makes sense

Caroline Kennedy won't be a senator from New York, but absent a few dozen "y'know"s, she very well could have gotten the nod -- and perhaps deservedly so. I don't say this because I think Kennedy some political savant; she clearly wasn't. Nor do I pretend she had the credentials (experience, political activism, public-policy wonkishness) we claim to want in our leaders. Indeed, Caroline Kennedy's qualification for the job was solely -- merely -- that she had the right parents. In our meritocratic world, it may seem outrageous to pick our leaders based on some accident of birth. But rather than dismiss those who do it as deluded fools, consider this: They might be right. Maybe choosing someone because of who they are really is the smart thing to do.

We do it all the time. Senator Ted Kennedy -- who got his job because of his last name -- will at some point be vacating his seat, and there is a long list of those salivating to succeed him. But should someone named Kennedy -- Joe, Victoria, or even Caroline herself (residency in these cases being a meaningless formality) -- want the job, that person would instantly rise to the status of front-runner. Just ask the many candidates who saw their hopes upended when Joe Kennedy decided to enter the 1986 race for the Eighth Congressional District seat to succeed Tip O'Neill.

This isn't just about the Kennedys. There are family dynasties all across America -- they're our home-grown version of the aristocracy. Prescott Bush begat George Herbert Walker who begat George W. and -- a likely future presidential nominee if he wants it -- Florida's Jeb. Bill Clinton gave us Hillary. Add to that list Udalls, Bayhs, and Daleys or, here in Boston, Flahertys, Connollys, and Hennigans.

Much of this has to do with celebrity. Becoming a credible candidate requires name recognition, and even with money in hand, that's a hard thing to achieve. The celebrity that comes from sports and media is one way of breaking through the clutter (although these days, Al Franken notwithstanding, such fame seems to translate less well to the political stage).  Another, better way is to be part of a well-known political family.

Here's why. The most difficult challenge every voter faces is taking a risk on an unknown. Position papers, debates, or experiences in another field are all well and good, but at the end of most campaigns, much about the candidates is still a mystery. Questions remain about their character, about how deeply felt are their positions, about how they will perform in office, or about how they might react when facing complex new problems.

Families help answer those questions. As standoffish as she was during her short-lived "campaign," Caroline Kennedy didn't need to issue any position papers for us to already know the kind of liberalism she would offer -- the same kind we've gotten from her uncles and cousins. To a degree, that's true of all the other family brand names out there. We already have experience dealing with their predecessors, which makes our decisions about their sons, daughters, spouses, or cousins far, far easier. Moreover, we have some assurance that the family will make any newly elected member toe the line, delivering as anticipated and not veering too far away from the family's (and hence our) expectations.

On top of that, in the same way we figure that the son of a carpenter knows his way around a workshop, we believe -- and, I think, quite accurately -- that the members of political families have been raised steeped in discussions of public policy, are familiar with the tactics of legislating and governing, and are imbued with the ethos of public service.

To be sure, family names don't guarantee electoral success (Patricia White, daughter of longtime Boston mayor Kevin White, failed twice in her quest to become a city councilor). And voters sometimes do take chances on the unknown (Barack Obama is proof of that).

But, in general, we voters will -- quite sensibly -- give an edge to even neophyte wannabe pols if they bear the right family names. I choke a bit to realize this, but I know I behave this way, too. If the last names are familiar, I'll pay extra attention. I may not vote for them, but I'll at least hear them out.

Originally published in The Boston Globe Magazine, March 1, 2009.