A candid reflection on quitting a job, discovering life's perspective through travel, and learning that unexpected rejections can redirect you toward your true path with integrity and purpose.
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About Nicole
A communications and public affairs professional with experience in financial services, legislative affairs, program coordination, and nonprofit governance. Most recently served as Senior Communications Specialist at M&T Bank after earlier roles in communications and commercial sales enablement. Previous experience with the New York State Assembly, Cornell University ILR School, and Partnership for the Public Good reflects strengths in strategic communication, policy support, program operations, and stakeholder engagement. Holds degrees in Policy Analysis and Management and Public Administration, and also serves in nonprofit board leadership roles focused on youth, families, and community impact.
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Articles by Nicole
The Dream Job That Wasn't — and What I Learned on the Road
How a rejected job offer and cross-country journey taught me that the detours in life often lead us exactly where we need to be.
What I Learned From a Detour I Didn’t Expect
Earlier this year, I quit my job.
Not because I had another one lined up, but because I had just returned from Rwanda and was finally ready to act on what I had known for a while: my job was making me deeply unhappy.
While the trip didn't uncover the realization that I was unhappy, it gave me crucial perspective. I realized I am deeply privileged, and staying in a job that made me unhappy was a disservice—to the good fortune I've had in life, to the people who would trade places with me in a second, and to myself.
On the flight there, I sat next to a woman from Iran. She pulled out her phone and showed me photo after photo of her country, explaining that it was just as geographically unique and beautiful as the United States: coasts, deserts, and mountains.
She adored it, even though she couldn't live there while pursuing her career as a chemist. She told me how sincerely she hoped I could visit her country someday.
I didn't have a good answer for why I didn't have photos on my phone of my own country. So I decided to change that once I left my job.
I found a pickup camper rental, loosely charted a route, and drove across America, perfectly timed before its 250th anniversary. On the road, I drank in the awe and diversity of the place I get to call home, feeling more joyful and grounded than I had in a long time.
During the journey, I interviewed for what I thought was my dream role from the back of my camper in Glacier National Park. I was convinced that my past roles and timing had led me to this rare opportunity—that I would have a fairytale ending to a life-changing trip, with a 9-to-5 secured right as I arrived home.
I thought it was meant to be.
But I didn't get the job.
I was both disappointed and grappling with the reality of an ever-depleting savings account.
I'm grateful they rejected me.
While I was waiting in post-interview limbo, a story broke that a member of that organization's leadership team had a sexual harassment complaint filed against them by an employee. Leadership's slow and complicated response fueled the news cycle for weeks and eroded public trust.
But if they had offered me the role, I might still have accepted. The story, the idea of the job, and the financial realities surrounding it were all compelling.
It was one of those rare moments in life when the universe gives you a glimpse into the path that could have been.
And now I can see it wasn't the right path for me.
In the meantime, I'll be picking up interim serving work while I continue searching for the right long-term fit—a place where leadership handles difficult situations with urgency, accountability, and integrity, and where excellence is the standard.
While my career transition journey isn't complete, this is what I've gathered so far to share:
A "no" can be a lifesaver, even when it stings.
That rejection was the best-case scenario. I was making an exception to the qualities I was looking for in a workplace for the wrong reasons.
Privilege isn't guilt. It's responsibility.
The Rwanda trip didn't make me feel bad about what I have. It made me feel accountable for how I use it. Staying somewhere that dims you isn't gratitude. It's wasting the opportunities you've been given.
The detour is part of the path.
I don't have the neat ending yet. But I trust what's coming more than I trusted the thing I was chasing.
If you're between things, rethinking what you want, or trusting a detour of your own, I see you.
I'm keeping faith—for both you and me—that we'll land where we're supposed to be if we're only brave enough to try.
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