Back when I was finishing my PhD contract, I saw the job market as an abyss. I had no idea what was coming next. The full range of my options wasn’t clear to me, and I certainly couldn’t predict the future.

I spent almost two years experimenting — taking part in various volunteer projects and trying myself out in different work environments. Only then did I finally arrive at a concept of what I truly wanted to do next with my life. Ultimately, looking back, it was absolutely the right decision.

But here’s what I learned: the popular advice to “just follow your passion” sounds great, but it’s not enough. Passion matters, of course.

But your career also needs to align with your values and your beliefs about the world. It also needs to fit your unique combination of strengths and weaknesses.

During that period, I came up with a list of career non-negotiables — the features and principles my next professional path had to meet. In fact, I wanted to stay on that path for the long term, maybe even for life.

It took me almost two years to find a solution that fulfilled all these criteria, but the good news is: I did. And it worked.

What This List Is (and Isn’t)

Funny enough, none of these points is about “salary” or the elusive thing called “purpose.”

And I believe that if you take the time to create your own list — and search long enough — you can find your ideal path too.

By the way, they say you should never focus on what you don’t want. That’s because the brain doesn’t process negation — focusing on what you dislike only attracts more of it.

But believe it or not, I once wrote down such a list. Within a few years, I ended up discovering an activity that actually checked all 21 boxes on it.

So, here is my personal list of career non-negotiables:

1. My Work MUST Be Creative and Multidisciplinary.

I’ve been a creative type for as long as I can remember. As a child, I was always drawing, writing stories and essays, and role-playing. I excelled in literature — which, in Poland at the time, was largely about writing your own opinion pieces, poetry, and interpretations of classical works.

So I knew early on that if I ever took a job that didn’t involve creativity on a daily basis, I would burn out quickly. Ideally, my work should allow for several different forms of creativity. That way, I can move hearts, inspire others, and contribute original ideas in multiple ways, not just one.

At the same time, many creative professions share a common challenge. They require the continuous production of creative work, regardless of whether inspiration strikes, innovative ideas emerge, or experiments succeed.

For instance, I experienced this firsthand in academia. As a researcher, you are generally expected to publish at least one first-author paper per year simply to remain competitive.

In principle, publishing should be the result of discovering something genuinely new or developing a novel model or theory. In practice, however, it often turns into a publication game, where the pressure to produce output becomes detached from the pace of actual scientific discovery.

The Same Pattern Beyond Academia

The same dynamic exists in many other professions, including content creation, journalism, and the arts. Once your employer, audience, subscribers, or patrons come to expect new content on a regular schedule, the pressure begins.

Whether the cadence is weekly, monthly, or annually, you end up trying to control things beyond your control. After all, inspiration cannot be scheduled, and innovation rarely happens on demand.

Having experienced that pressure before, I realized that I needed a professional path that would still allow me to innovate and create new content. I wanted a leaner, more sustainable way to do it: steady, everyday work, not occasional breakthroughs that may or may not occur.

Education fulfilled that requirement. It gave me the opportunity to create value continuously, while still leaving room for creativity, experimentation, and the development of new ideas.

2. Does My Value Appreciate with Time?

There are certain disciplines — like Olympic sports — where your value and the value of your work naturally decline over time. The same applies to ballet and other fields where peak performance is tied to youth.

Moreover, it’s not just limited to sports or the arts. It also includes professions that rely heavily on direct physical presence or personal interaction, such as being a flight attendant or a waitress.

By contrast, in other professions, age works to your advantage. For example, if you were choosing a doctor to treat your cancer, would you prefer someone with 25 years of experience or just 5? In many fields, the simple fact of being older — having a few grey hairs — inspires trust and signals expertise.

This applies across intellectual disciplines: from non-fiction writing and professional negotiation, to law, consulting, and scientific advisory work. Even in politics, people tend to respect leaders who look seasoned and experienced, regardless of whether that appearance reflects genuine merit or not.

We all feel uneasy about the passing of time and the idea of growing older. That’s natural.

But for me, it was important to choose a profession where age enhances, rather than diminishes, your value. Time should strengthen your credibility, not threaten your career. Losing your job because of your natural aging process must be so depressing!

That having said, many work environments are naturally prone to ageism, and I’m not even referring to fields where age-related biases are obvious. Think of professional sports or certain branches of the arts, including the music and film industries.

Rather, I’m talking about sectors such as technology, HR, and much of corporate America. In these settings, people are often viewed primarily as economic assets, and organizations are driven by revenue targets.

What the Data Says About Age Bias

According to the U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, age discrimination remains persistent across American workplaces. Outdated views of older workers are still well-documented, even 50 years after the Age Discrimination in Employment Act.

In fact, I can think of only a few environments that are relatively resistant to ageism. One of them is the public sector, and another is academia. In these settings, simply being older does not automatically make you less employable.

What tends to matter more is your track record, expertise, publications, achievements, or professional portfolio. While age-related bias can never be ruled out entirely, individuals are generally less likely to be marginalized solely because of their age.

To be fair, if your goal is to minimize exposure to ageism, your best options are often to work in the public sector. Building your own business or establishing yourself as an independent expert works too. Beyond these paths, it is difficult to identify many professional environments that are completely insulated from age-related biases.

3. My Job Does Not Jeopardize My Health.

Some professions can physically distort your body over time. For example, in women, heavy weightlifting can sometimes have an undesired effect on body shape, leading to a more masculine or overly muscular build. In contrast, other jobs may cause the opposite — excessive weight loss, fatigue, or chronic exhaustion.

Moreover, certain occupations can even shorten your lifespan, especially those involving exposure to toxic materials or hazardous environments.

One of my non-negotiables was that my work could not fall into any of these categories. Indeed, it needed to be physically neutral — or ideally, have a net positive effect on my health, well-being, and longevity.

4. My Job Needs to Involve People AND Deep Work. 

I’m an ambivert — and I know it. I love being around people, but only when I also have time to decompress afterward — to retreat into my cave, recharge, and work in silence.

Similarly, I enjoy deep, focused work, but only if I can occasionally switch gears. Sometimes that means meeting people, giving talks, attending lectures, and spending a whole day immersed in social energy.

For me, the ideal profession allows for both modes — the quiet, introspective focus and the lively, interactive engagement. Furthermore, it lets me move fluidly between them.

5. Money Should Reflect The Effort.

I didn’t really think about the total amount of money I could make in a given profession in absolute terms. What mattered more to me was the motivational structure behind it.

Back when I was a PhD student, all PhD candidates were paid exactly the same amount. That held regardless of whether they published ten papers, one paper, or none at all. There was virtually no correlation between the effort you put in and the salary you received — a system I found deeply demotivating.

In contrast, in business and other self-directed professions, the relationship is usually much clearer. The more hours you work, the more clients you serve, and the more value (and income) you generate. As a result, that structure suits me far better — it rewards initiative, effort, and creativity directly.

6. Agility and Room to Soft-pivot.

We live in times when agility is crucial. You have to be able to adapt to the market — and to do that, you need to leave yourself room to pivot.

This brings me back to my PhD experience and the lessons I learned from it. My main doctoral project, focused on causal inference in fMRI, was mathematically constrained and, in practice, nearly impossible to complete successfully. There was very little flexibility — no room to pivot or redirect my efforts.

That experience taught me something important: I need to work in a discipline where I don’t have to put all my eggs in one basket. Where I can pursue multiple projects, collaborate with different stakeholders in parallel, and maintain both safety and adaptability.

In this way, I can explore a variety of roles, wear multiple hats, and grow together with my company. To me, that’s the ideal setup: you and your organization evolve in sync — and your career becomes a vehicle for your personal growth.

I think it’s also important to choose a market that isn’t shrinking. After all, if you join a sinking ship, you’ll simply be going down with everyone else. There are so many sectors that are naturally growing that there’s really no reason to enter one that’s clearly contracting.

Choosing a Direction in 2025

For example, if I had to choose my professional direction in 2025, I probably wouldn’t decide to become a visual artist or a graphic designer. That’s not because these fields lack value, but because they are being replaced so rapidly.

The entire sector is shrinking under the pressure of AI. According to Imperial College Business School’s analysis, freelance graphic design demand fell about 17% within eight months of ChatGPT’s launch.

That analysis covered nearly two million freelance job postings, and the decline has persisted and continued to grow since. According to Frey and Osborne (2017), nearly half of US occupations face a high risk of automation.

This might sound obvious, but I notice that many people, when thinking about their career, don’t take the market into account at all. They focus exclusively on themselves — their skills, their product — without considering the broader context. That context includes the extra wave of opportunity or the extra level of difficulty that their chosen market brings.

7. Does My Job Let Me Develop My Brain?

I believe that a good job for me — for me, Natalia — should be intellectually challenging. In other words, a role that doesn’t stimulate my mind or help me grow intellectually over time wouldn’t hold my interest.

I need to feel that I’m being stretched — that my problem-solving skills are constantly evolving and that my brain is becoming sharper and more capable. Otherwise, I start to feel like I’m missing something essential, or even moving backwards and getting retarded.

That sense of stagnation makes me deeply uncomfortable. According to Ryan and Deci (2000), the need for competence is one of three basic psychological needs.

Which doesn’t mean that what I do needs to be pure science.

8. Activity That Naturally Complements my Previous Professional Experience.

Many people, when pivoting their careers, look for a hard reset. They dream about selling everything and starting a gold farm somewhere far away.

But in reality, I believe the optimal approach is to create a snowball effect — to build upon what you already have. In short, the goal is to become a unique package of professional competencies.

Instead of erasing your past, it’s much more effective to add a new skill to your existing portfolio. This turns you into a distinctive combination of experience and expertise that you can confidently promote under your personal brand.

In my case, computational neuroscience — much like career development — is ultimately about building human potential. It’s simply a different lens.

One explores the inside of the brain through science, while the other focuses on helping people use their brains more effectively. At their core, both disciplines share a common goal — understanding how to make the most of human potential.

Recognizing these similarities allowed me to carry my scientific background forward into my next chapter. I can now leverage that expertise to strengthen my reputation, improve my services, and define a unique selling point for what I do.

However, it wasn’t easy to reach this point. After going through burnout in neuroscience, I initially felt tempted to abandon it all and start something completely different.

But once I gave myself time to recover, I realized that neuroscience is my strength, not my burden. Instead of discarding it, I decided to let it propel me forward — into a new, more fulfilling career.

9. My Professional Success Cannot be Subject to the Opinion of Particular People.

In many disciplines, so-called “experts” decide whether or not you receive recognition. For example, in film, it’s the Academy that determines whether you get an Oscar.

In figure skating, it’s a panel of judges who subjectively decide whether you deserve a medal. Even in the arts, a few influential critics writing for reputable outlets can make or break your career. They can either create hype or criticize your work to the point of financial ruin.

I knew from the very beginning that my next career could not depend on the subjective opinions of a few individuals. Of course, in almost every profession, you are evaluated by others. Ideally, though, that judgment should be distributed across many people, not concentrated in the hands of a few gatekeepers.

For instance, say you give a lecture to a hundred people. Five of them might dislike it simply because they tend to dislike everything.

Their opinions are diluted by the other ninety-five who appreciate your work. Statistically, the overall impression still reflects your value.

So while judgment is inevitable, it’s important to choose a career where success depends on broad feedback and measurable outcomes. Instead, it shouldn’t hinge on the whims of a small, subjective elite. That way, no single person can block your professional growth.

10. My Professional Success Cannot Be Blocked by a Person or an Institution (or Weather).

Related to my previous point, many careers today are dangerously dependent on a single platform, distribution channel, or individual.

For example, YouTubers rely entirely on YouTube’s algorithm and team—if, for any reason, that team decides to revoke their streaming rights, their careers can vanish overnight.

Similarly, imagine you build a business in which your co-founder holds the real expertise or intellectual property. If you act primarily as the distributor or salesperson, they effectively embody the company’s value. Should they choose to leave, you’re left with nothing.

In summary, I could list countless examples, but the pattern is clear. Most professionals, whether they realize it or not, depend heavily on the decisions of specific people or institutions. From the outset, I knew I had to build a career path involving multiple stakeholders—one that wouldn’t leave me fully dependent on any single entity.

There are many professions in which success depends heavily on the weather. In some industries, you only earn significant income during a particular season. Weather-driven factors largely beyond your control—whether there’s sunshine or rain—can dramatically affect the outcome of that season’s success.

In fact, most businesses experience some form of seasonality. In education, for example, spring and fall are the busiest seasons. However, in most industries, seasonality is primarily driven by human behavior, schedules, and psychological cycles rather than by the weather itself.

11. My Professional Success Cannot Be Subject to Chance.

In many disciplines, so-called “experts” decide whether or not you receive recognition. For example, in film, it’s the Academy that determines whether you get an Oscar.

In figure skating, it’s a panel of judges who subjectively decide whether you deserve a medal. Even in the arts, a few influential critics writing for reputable outlets can make or break your career. They can either create hype or criticize your work to the point of financial ruin.

I knew from the very beginning that my next career could not depend on the subjective opinions of a few individuals. Of course, in almost every profession, you are evaluated by others. Ideally, though, that judgment should be distributed across many people, not concentrated in the hands of a few gatekeepers.

For instance, say you give a lecture to a hundred people. Five of them might dislike it simply because they tend to dislike everything.

Their opinions are diluted by the other ninety-five who appreciate your work. Statistically, the overall impression still reflects your value.

So while judgment is inevitable, it’s important to choose a career where success depends on broad feedback and measurable outcomes. It shouldn’t hinge on the whims of a small, subjective elite. That way, no single person can block your professional growth.

12. Possible to Work Both On-site and Online.

Referring back to my ambiversion, I’d enjoy a job that allows me to work both online and on-site. Likewise, I’d like to switch freely between these two modes.

13. Traveling Opportunities.

So many professions don’t support travel and require you to stay on-site. For me, as a passionate traveler, I knew that my ideal job would not only allow me to travel — but ideally, pay me for it.

14. I Can Choose People to Work With. 

We all have our buttons at work. One of mine is that I simply can’t work with toxic people — there are certain personality types I find very difficult to handle.

That’s why it was essential for me to choose a career where I have the freedom to walk away. Overall, this applies whenever communication or collaboration stops working as it should.

15. My Job Needs to Bring Good Emotions to People.

I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news. Like a doctor who tells a patient they have cancer or a tax controller looking for a hole in your tax declaration. Instead, I’d like to leave people energized, amused, inspired, motivated, informed, built, curious, and hungry for success.

16. Relatability.

During my PhD, I worked on such a niche scientific topic that few people could ever fully understand it. Maybe only a hundred or two hundred people in the entire world could grasp it. Even some members of my own research team struggled to grasp what my project was really about.

That experience made me realize that, moving forward, I wanted a job that felt relatable — not only to scientists, but to anyone. Consequently, I wanted my work to connect with people’s everyday lives and have a meaning they could immediately understand.

17. Relevance.

Similarly, I knew that to stay motivated and committed to my work, I needed to feel that it truly mattered to people. That’s why I decided my work should represent one of the five main areas of human interest:

1. Physical or mental health/longevity 
2. Wealth, investing, business development
3. Career development/self-development 
4. Relationships/family life
5. Spirituality/inner life.

It also means that, despite their prestige, I wouldn’t pursue fields like high tech, the space industry, or quantum computing. This is because I don’t believe they are essential to these five fundamental areas of human life.

18. Am I Swimming in a Blue Ocean?

The concept of the blue ocean is really crucial here. I have to make sure that I pursue my own goals and create something truly new. That holds even within an already occupied space, since virtually every market today is highly competitive.

In any field I choose to enter, I want to ensure that I’m so different that I’m not really competing with anyone. Even when I operate in the same general space as others, I aim to bring a unique angle that allows me to collaborate rather than compete. Nevertheless, that mindset has been very important to me.

This approach also stems, at least in part, from my academic background. Back then, as a PhD student, I often felt that our research projects looked collaborative on paper.

In reality, though, we were all competing for the same grants, the same positions, and the same limited opportunities. It often felt like a game of musical chairs — with fewer and fewer chairs at every level.

I knew I didn’t want to find myself in that kind of environment again.

19. My Career Cannot Go Into Direct Conflict with Family Life.

And last but not least — some careers are synergistic with raising a family. Others come into direct conflict with it and can create a massive backlash.

For example, if you’re an athlete or a model, getting pregnant and having a baby can derail your career — at least temporarily, if not permanently. On the other hand, if you’re a comedian, becoming a parent can actually enrich your work. Raising a child becomes a bottomless source of relatable material — pure gold for your audience.

At the same time, I realized that this aspect was crucial for me. I wanted a career that would keep doors open, regardless of whether I eventually start a family or not.

That’s one of the reasons I chose career development. First, it’s deeply rewarding to observe how people — much like children — unfold their potential at different stages of growth.

And second, the skills you build in career development are, by definition, supportive to those closest to you. Thus, that includes your partner, your children, and your family as a whole.

20. A Job That Helps Me Understand the World.

I’ve always wanted to have a job that helps me understand the underlying mechanics of the world. We live in an incredibly complex reality, and I’ve always felt that the ideal profession should allow you to dig deeper.

It should let you explore how things truly work: from the way organizations function, to how economies evolve, to how people think and act. Ultimately, it’s about trying to better understand — and perhaps even predict — the events that shape our lives, if that’s possible at all.

21. Decompression as a Part of the Process.

It would be ideal if my dream job allowed me enough space for decompression. Time to relax, take a walk in the park or forest, read, unwind in a sauna, or tend to a garden. Moments of quiet disconnection from the world.

(I know this is everyone’s wet dream, but at least I had balls to vocalize it. I will never materialize otherwise).

I’ve always believed that the perfect career should, in some way, monetize those reflective days spent deep in thought. In fact, those days shouldn’t just be “days off” marked on a calendar, but rather an essential part of the creative and constructive process itself.

What I mean is that some careers are antifragile by design: every failure eventually turns into a win.

When you experience a setback, you process it, learn from it, and often generate valuable insights. Hence, those insights can make you more relatable.

They can help you attract another client or build a meaningful relationship that later turns into a business opportunity. Or they can simply help you grow as a person. In turn, that growth makes you more engaging, more insightful, and ultimately more successful.

In these careers, failures are not merely obstacles to overcome—they become assets. No matter how nonlinear or indirect the path may be, each setback contributes to your future success and moves your business forward.

Conclusions.

I left out certain details that I considered self-evident — for instance, not wanting to use my body in any way for work. It’s a tricky point, because in a sense, everyone uses their face in their career in one way or another. So where exactly is the line between that and using the rest of your body? 

Still, my intention is clear: I’d like my physical appearance or the way I move to have only a marginal impact on my income. There are two other obvious omissions I made for the same reason — I simply didn’t feel it was necessary to spell them out. 

To summarize, to stay on one career path for a long time, you need to choose something that meets a lot of conditions. For me, career development turned out to be that kind of solution. According to Kristof-Brown et al.

(2005), this kind of person–environment fit strongly predicts satisfaction and retention. Whether it will be forever — we’ll see — but for now, it feels right.

I didn’t arrive here by pure trial and error; I was strategic, making decisions based on self-knowledge and past professional experience. I genuinely believe that, at that point, I made an optimal choice — or at least something very close to it.

Conventional wisdom says that when planning your career, you should focus only on what you want, not on what you don’t want. But in my case, thinking through what I absolutely didn’t want proved just as valuable.

So tell me — what are your career non-negotiables?