'The Shallow Hustle': Is Your Career Big Enough for You?

I had a problem.

You might have this problem, too.

Have you ever felt pulled in a new direction, but it didn’t feel…big enough?

Not ‘big enough’ in the sense of ‘I’m so important and I need to be A VERY BIG (SWISS GRUYÈRE) CHEESE 🧀,’ but in the sense of: ‘Something about this work is lacking depth and substance and the feeling that what I’m really doing matters.’

I call this: The Shallow Hustle.

The Shallow Hustle is when you’re busy, but the work doesn’t add up to anything greater. You look back and you’re like, did any of this really matter? Did I actually accomplish anything besides making money? (Or even that, FML?)

This has been an emotional woe in professional contexts for a very long time. But, in a modern digital world when you can create something from nothing, for relatively very little cost, why aren’t we creating more things that matter to us? Why are we shallow hustling our lives away?

There are, of course, a myriad of legitimate, hard-knuckled reasons why millions of people depend on shallow hustles to survive. That’s not what this is about. This is about those who have the luxury to choose—and still aren’t able to find any purpose in their work.

Money > purpose.

⬆️ That’s been the silent battle cry of America for 250 years. When everything around you is supersized, the importance of money gets supersized, too. How many decisions did you make this week solely because they’d make you money—even if you hated the very thought?

I’m not here to promote the ‘follow your passion’ trope, because let’s be honest: that’s so played out and trite—frankly, the words bug me in the same way “Live, Laugh, Love” bugs me. How are we to respect your ideas with that horseshit in your house?

But, what I am here to do is offer a useful perspective on what to do when something does interest you—a craft, an idea, a project, a profession—but nonetheless, it feels trivial in the greater scheme of things. It lacks a deeper meaning, connected to a greater purpose. (Assuming we will all have one of those, someday.) The world is burning, and you’re over here making friendship bracelets.

This reminds me of another annoying phrase: what kind of ‘legacy’ do you want to create?

I’ve always HATED that word, legacy. Sounds so self-important. What are you, a czar?

Nevertheless, the idea of a legacy is relevant, because apparently we humans need to feel like it isn’t all for nought. It’s all very existential crisis-ey of us. What do you do when you like something, but it makes you feel like a dime-a-dozen huckster?

Case in point: I recently felt this way about architecture & interior design. I am super passionate about architecture & interior design. I LOVE THIS SH*T. But, the vast majority of conversations around the subject of interior design, in particular, is hyper-superficial, further exacerbated by the superficiality of Instagram. There are oceans of interiors influencers floating around pristinely renovated period properties in floral prairie dresses, carrying wicker baskets full of tulips in their freshly-cut grass, nose-rubbing their cherub-like two-year old with blonde curly hair, and performing / promoting this fantasy ‘trad life’—something I have never been able to relate to. 🤮 It’s the new digital ‘Live, Laugh, Love.’

For as much as I’ve wanted to write a fun newsletter about architecture & interiors & design, something I couldn’t quite pinpoint kept niggling at me. For months, I debated a way that I could contribute to this conversation in a way that felt interesting and meaningful to me. Aesthetics are cool, but what happens when you’re one of those fuckers who needs their wainscoting to whisper sweet nothings about the human condition?

Enter: THE SOLUTION.

A way of thinking about this that changed everything.

And, it’s a way that you, too, may be able to take something you love or you’re obsessed with or totally passionate about (even if it feels trivial right now) and approach it from a more meaningful angle.

Cue: the holy grail. Pleasure and purpose.

Let me tell you what I discovered. (If you’ve been beating your head against the wall trying to figure out your next career move, I promise this will help.)

What makes something feel meaningful?

Let’s take a book: what’s the difference between a book that you really connect with, and one that feels like a personal attack on your attention span?

Or, how about a movie? What’s the difference between one that haunts you for years…and one you forget before the credits even roll?

Both of these things have oneeeeee little thing in common: what makes them good is not the story they tell, but what that story’s really about.

In other words: the theme. The message. The big idea. 💡

If you think about it, this is what really motivates you to want to read a book, or watch a movie: not the plot (no one cares about some random girl named Amy who decided to move to Ireland), but the theme. (Amy’s trying to find herself again after a brutal divorce—and maybe you can relate.)

There’s a movie out right now called Kinda Pregnant with Amy Schumer. Fucking hysterical. The Netflix description is this:

When Lainy's plan to settle down and start a family falls apart, she puts on a fake baby bump, tells a lie — and accidentally falls for her dream guy.

That’s what the movie is about—on its face.

But, what’s it really about?

It’s really a movie about getting older and not having accomplished the things you thought you would in life.

That’s the theme. That’s what we connect to as an audience, because THAT’S where we can relate. Even if it’s not specifically *pregnancy*, we’ve all gotten older and we’ve all faced disappointments about our lives and the people we have—or have not—become.

Why does this matter for your career?

If we take the interior design example from above, interior design on its face is like the plot of a movie: it’s simply an action. It’s what you do.

But, what does it mean?

That’s precisely the problem: without a theme behind it, it’s not connected to anything meaningful. It’s just another B-list movie. It’s just another thing that happens in the world, like Amy moving to Ireland: who cares?

That, right there, is the crux of it all: the problem is when YOU don’t even care. Because it is hard to care about something that doesn’t feel relevant to your life.

So the question becomes: how can you take this thing you’re into, and how can you create a meaningful career with it? How can you turn it into something that matters beyond the surface-level?

And, my answer is this: you figure out what motivates you. (Theme.) And you find a way to connect your interests to it. (Plot.)

Using my interior design example, what I solidified these past few months is that I am 100% an ideas person. I am fueled by big visions & big creative ideas. This is where I shine. Don’t ask me to plan your wedding with all of those uptight details, because you’ll end up with 70 Papa John’s pizzas and a drunk saxophone player I found on the street, but do ask me to brainstorm a creative way the wedding industry as a whole can survive a pandemic.

Big ideas are how I create value.

And, one of the big ideas I’ve always thought about is: lots of people renovate houses, but what would it take to renovate an entire town?

I think about this a CREEPY AMOUNT OF TIME. Every place I go, I am analyzing its strengths, its weaknesses, its livability, its desirability, and what could make it better.

This is a big idea that motivates me.

And so naturally, I began studying these things. Subscribing to Main Street revitalization newsletters. Following urban planners. Thinking about transit and housing and the built environment.

Eventually I realized something: architecture & design & interiors has a real place here. And, so does branding & writing & big ideas (what I’ve been doing professionally for 1,000 years).

I found the intersection: what motivates me (theme), and what I’m interested in doing (plot).

Theme + plot = a killer movie.

Motivation + interests = a killer career.

So, for example, if you are someone who really loves making teeny tiny little clay figurines, but you’re like, how the fuck do I turn this into a meaningful career?

Look at the bigger themes in your life that motivate you.

• You love making teeny tiny clay figurines (interest), but your deeper motivation & curiosity is around nostalgia and memory. → Maybe your work explores the concept of preserving childhood joy, creating heirloom pieces that help people stay connected to their past.
• You’re a baker who loves making the perfect loaf of sourdough (interest), but what excites you on a deeper level is community. → Maybe your bakery isn’t just about selling bread—it’s about creating a space where people gather, connect, and slow down.
• You like coding (interest), but what really drives you is accessibility. → Maybe you build tech that makes the digital world more inclusive for people with disabilities.
• You enjoy photography (interest), but you’re deeply motivated by the idea of truth and storytelling. → Maybe you become a documentary photographer who captures untold stories.

See what I mean?

It’s about looking beyond the what and focusing on the why—even though that is yet one more concept I rejected in the past as hackneyed fluff. MAYBE I AM THE HACKNEYED FLUFF. 🤣 (Just kidding, that’s just my hair blowing in the cold windy breeze.)

One thing I do know for sure: when you have the entire world at your fingertips, spending your days on work that doesn’t move you isn’t just a waste—it’s a quiet kind of self-betrayal.

When you have options, use ‘em.

When you have ideas, trust ‘em.

When you have choices, make ‘em count.

Because at the end of the day, the difference between work that feels meaningful and work that doesn’t all comes down to whether you paid attention to what actually lit you up—and whether you had the guts to follow it.

So if something calls to you, answer. If something nags at you, chase it down. And if something feels trivial but won’t leave you alone? Look closer. It might just be the thing that matters to you most.