When a Job title becomes an identity

"Hello, my name is Bond, James Bond, and I am a marketing assistant." A 9-to-5 job holder, James Bond would be proudly selling a product. But James chose the right job: to become an assassin.  he is still a government employee, and much of his identity as 007 is as an MI6 agent.

Our surnames are based on profession. My surname is Maharjan, which means a farmer. I no more do farming; nonetheless, the surname remains deeply embedded in social identity. My surname says what my parents and ancestors used to do for a living. Many government quota systems are still based on surnames. For me, I have a profession, and I have my Business cards, LinkedIn profiles, office door nameplate, email signatures, and my elevator pitch; all reinforce my profession as the centre of my identity. Have I blurred the line between my profession and personality?

I have been a job holder for more than 25 years now. A job title is useful for me. It tells people what I do. It is comforting. It provides purpose, status, and belonging. My office space is a community with shared values and organisational objectives. Carrying an official title, or being part of the organisation, creates a sense of pride. 

There is nothing inherently wrong with that. In fact, dedication to one's profession is admirable. But slowly I started to realise the professional identity overshadowing me as an individual. Understandably, I spend most of the day in the office and am around office colleagues. We talk about work, office, projects, missions, yearly plan, KPT, etc throughout the day. The danger lies in becoming too attached. The office hierarchy indicates intelligence. A professional career absorbs personality. Every professional setback becomes too personal. And promotion feels like a validation of your worth. Criticism of work becomes criticism of character. Job loss becomes not only an economic problem but an identity crisis.

This is why I have seen many retirees struggle even when they are financially secure. They do not merely miss the salary; they miss the answer to the question, "Who am I now?" For decades, they introduced themselves through a title. Once the title disappears, the purpose disappears. I have seen police officers struggle to adjust to civilian life. The recognition vanishes, and they mingle with their old retired buddies with similar crises.

The irony is that jobs are temporary. Organisations restructure. Funding crunches force staff cuts. If my identity depends entirely on job title, I will be no one without that job. I do not argue against the need for job commitments and meaningful work. I am privileged to have this job, and it has given me a sense of identity. But if I lose it, will I be faceless?

I am more than my profession. I have multiple identities. I am a father, a son, a husband, and a brother. I have social identities: a neighbour, a taxpayer, a voter, a Newar and many more. My hobbies have also given me some identities; I am a runner, reader and cyclist. Perhaps the most enduring identities are based on values rather than titles. Professionally, I remain honest, compassionate, dependable, hardworking, and curious in every career. These qualities travel with me from one job to another.  They are all my portable identities.

Ancient philosophers understood this long before corporate culture existed. The Stoics argued that external circumstances like wealth, status, and reputation are never fully under our control. What remains ours is character. Marcus Aurelius, despite ruling the Roman Empire, repeatedly reminded himself that emperor was merely a role. His true responsibility was to cultivate wisdom, justice, courage, and temperance; the four virtues of Stoicism. The role may end, but the virtues remain.

My career path has never been linear. I have changed organisations, countries, and roles multiple times. During the course, my job title-related introductions have changed. But my identities that are not associated with my job remained the same. I am determined to expand my identities that are less job-dependent. 

"Hello, I am Bond, James Bond. I travel – A sort of licensed troubleshooter.”