In the second week of January 2026, I received an email from the charity I had been volunteering for over the last two years, saying they had changed the volunteer shift days and that I was no longer required to attend if the day was inconvenient. I had previously mentioned to them that I would not be able to continue if the volunteers’ day were changed from Tuesdays to Wednesdays. I was kind of hoping they wouldn’t change the day, as I was one of the longest-serving volunteers on that task.
I froze. Looking at my phone in disbelief. After two years of loyalty, was that really it? Did I just lose my job?
The Dream Job (That Paid Nothing)
When I left the corporate world after 35 years of service, I started volunteering at the city farm in my neighbourhood. It is a microcharity that raises animals, such as cows, pigs, and ducks, and grows trees and vegetables on-site. They sell their farm products, including farm-raised sausages, herbs, and vegetables. They also teach adult students with learning difficulties essential farm skills and help them prepare for life. I have known this place for a long time since I moved to Canada Water, and I’ve always wanted to get involved in their work. It was all manual labour, weeding, trimming trees, mixing composts with manure, and hunting for snails under tomato pots.
Every Tuesday, I cycled there and parked my bike alongside the duck pond. I befriended them by feeding a bucketful of snails I picked up under the pots. When their eggs were collected, I got to be one of the lucky few to purchase them for lunch. I also made a few friends there with fellow volunteers and farm employees. I even donated my own money to buy some kitchen utensils and stationery.
It wasn’t glamorous, but I felt proud to be part of a noble cause. It felt like a dream come true.
The Dream Job (That Paid a Lot of Money)
I grew up in the countryside of Nagoya, Japan. It was a time and place when women were not expected to pursue careers. I graduated from the university and spent a year in the US, only to be told by the hiring managers that they were unable to offer me a job because they didn’t have suitable men for me to marry in their company. I hated Nagoya. I dreamed of moving to the big city. I so dreamed of working in the office where everyone wore smart suits and had a computer at the desk. When I landed my first job as a tea girl at a payday lender’s office adjacent to the railway arch in Tokyo, I swore I’d do anything to make my own living. Six months later, I got a desk assistant job at the swap desk in Deutsche Bank, as my first employer went into administration.
My career in the world of derivatives thus started. I worked for Deutsche Bank, Salomon Brothers, Lehman Brothers, Credit Suisse, Citigroup, Deutsche Bank (again), HSBC, Bank of New York, and Wells Fargo. All big names in finance. I loved my lifestyle. Modern office in the wealthiest location, colleagues from privileged backgrounds, opportunities to travel in business class, a subsidised corporate gym, private medical insurance, and generous pension provisions. The work was repetitive, and corporate politics were dreadful. But hey, who cares when you are paid so much that you can do what you like in your free time? I had the life I had dreamed of. It was a dream come true.
Of course, like many people in this industry, I have had my fair share of redundancies. You go into the office, as you do on any other day, and are escorted to a separate room to be given a piece of paper with the settlement details. You are made to realise that you were just a disposable tool the organisation decided to remove to achieve its goal. It hurt. Of course, redundancy damages your self-confidence. However, it is not so bad when you think about this. They tell you exactly how much you were worth, in financial terms, and that is what you walk away with. Nothing is personal. It is just a business decision. A transaction.
Since I left my employment, I have often been asked whether I am feeling OK or if I miss the work environment. They are asking me whether I still feel the meaning of life or the reason to live without the work I’ve spent so many years doing. Do I miss being rewarded for meeting the drawdown deadlines for some mega-million deals?
Job Loss
Why did I get so upset and saddened when I lost my unpaid job? Why did it feel like a betrayal? When I lost my farm job, I felt as if my whole self wasn’t good enough.
I was committed to doing physical work with no pay on a regular basis for 2 years. How can anyone be made redundant from a job like that?
Whilst I quickly found another similar role at the nature reserve ecological park in my neighbourhood, I had to reflect on my motives for taking it on. What exactly am I looking for?
Ikigai (生き甲斐)
The West has recently adopted the Japanese concept of Ikigai (生き甲斐), a reason for being, as a buzzword. But what does it actually mean to find your own reason for being?
I’ve started asking myself different questions. Not “Did I do a good job for xyz?” but simply:
When did I feel happy?
Last summer, I grew vegetables in my garden. The tomatoes failed, not enough sunshine, but I pulled through some carrots and potatoes. When I saw those carrots that I’d grown from tiny seeds only six months earlier, I felt an enormous sense of pride. My growbag was filled with perfectly shaped baby potatoes. No one gave me a grade. No one told me I’d done well. I just knew.
What makes me smile?
I’ve been going to the same gym for nearly three years. Same time, same platform, same routine. At first, the regulars were intimidating. Then came eye contact. Then hellos, goodbyes, and shared chuckles when someone dropped the bar or hit a crazy weight. Now they smile when I walk into the weight room. It’s that feeling that my presence is welcomed. Not for what I can do, but simply because I’m there.
Where do I get the energy that drives me to work hard?
In finance, I eventually gave up playing politics and just focused on the quality of my work. If my client and counterparty were happy at the end of a negotiation, I was satisfied. If my files were in order for future audits, I was satisfied. I didn’t need the senior team to validate it.
In sport, I took this further. When I run, I run for myself. No one decides if I ran fast enough or far enough. When I lift heavy weights, I do so to keep doing what I love. It is not to win competitions, but to look back in two, three, or four years and see the progress I have made. I want to feel proud of myself. And I do.
For my whole life, I relied on others to tell me I was good. Getting good grades, winning games, getting promotions, and getting a “pat on the back.” When I worked at the farm, I felt appreciated. And that was addictive. I felt betrayed when I realised that the charity was no different. You are not needed if inconvenient.
When you are relying on others’ appreciations of what you can do, you are exchanging transactional value. All transactions end. And you don’t always get the rewards you deserve.
Ikigai comes from within.
runhisayorun 