Professional Facepalms: A Six-Part Series
Because if you can’t laugh at your own career mistakes, someone else will.
Part #4 - Moving Up or Moving On
A beginner’s guide to deciding whether to redecorate your cubicle or torch it.
Welcome to Part 4 of Professional Facepalms: A Six-Part Series — where we tackle the career question immortalized by The Clash in 1981: “Should I Stay or Should I Go?”
Tenure: The Long and the Short of It
When it comes to job tenure, there are two distinct groups. One group decides that their office should double as a spare bedroom, and they list their cubicle on the change of address form they file with Canada Post. The other treats their job with all the permanence of The Littlest Hobo, staying just long enough to accomplish something meaningful before being called down the road to meet the next challenge.
🎶 There’s a voice, keeps on callin’ me… 🎶
I was firmly in the former camp. And I didn’t just stay — I took root.
But somewhere along the way, the office ecosystem shifted. The lifers started to look like an endangered species, and the leapers — those who were flitting from job to job like a hummingbird gooned on a cocktail of espresso and Red Bull — became the new norm. This was especially true outside our shop, where staff turnover among younger employees in other departments seemed to be on the rise. I had dry-erase markers without caps on them that had a longer lifespan than some of our employees.
Or at least, that’s how it felt to me.
But if data from Statistics Canada is any indication, then perhaps our office was an outlier. According to our national statistics agency, the proportion of long-tenured workers (those with 10+ years at the same employer) has actually increased slightly over the past few decades — from almost one-third in 1976 to around 38% in 2023. Meanwhile, the number of short-term employees (those with less than one year) has declined, while those in the middle (1–10 years) have held steady.
So maybe my perception didn’t mesh with reality. Maybe I was just noticing upheaval where there wasn’t any. Or maybe I was just the data point so far out on the right side of our office’s job tenure bell curve that I needed something built by NASA to see what was actually happening elsewhere in the office.
Something like this might’ve helped.
Still, there’s no denying that younger workers today are more mobile. They’re more likely to change jobs, explore new industries, and treat each role as a stepping stone rather than a final destination. And while the stats say long-term tenure is alive and well, the culture around it has definitely changed. There was a time when a long-term commitment to a company was met with accolades. Now it can be viewed as a lack of ambition — or worse, a fear of change.
Loyal Lifers versus Ladder Leapers
According to recent studies, job hopping has become increasingly common among Gen Z and millennials. In 2022, over 22% of workers aged 20 and older spent a year or less at their jobs — the highest percentage since 2006.
And it’s not just about chasing bigger paycheques (though that’s definitely part of it). Younger workers are prioritizing flexibility, purpose, and work-life balance. So, while they may still be interested in climbing to the top of the corporate ladder, it doesn’t necessarily need to be on the one they’re currently standing on. Sometimes they’re willing to trade what they have — job satisfaction, good relationships with coworkers, and free pizza every other Friday — in exchange for a leap forward (or sometimes even laterally) with a different company. Especially if the new corporate culture promises flex time, summer hours, and free pizza every Friday.
Meanwhile, long-term loyalty — once the gold standard of professionalism — is now often viewed with a strange mix of admiration and suspicion. Staying at one company for decades can signal deep expertise and commitment… or stagnation and fear of change. It all depends on who’s reading your résumé and how many motivational podcasts they’ve listened to. And job hopping went from being a red flag to a strategy to game the LinkedIn algorithm for increased views.
When You’re There as Long as I Was, It’s Not Tenure…It’s Twelveure
Let’s be clear: I didn’t stay because I was stuck. I stayed because it made sense. Here’s what I found important about my job:
Meaningful work: When I was approaching graduation I really had no idea of where I’d ply my trade. Maybe for a bank. Maybe for an oil company or an insurance firm. These all seemed to be the places of business that other grads were gravitating toward. So when a job opportunity came up that supported my home province’s agricultural sector, it was a perfect match. As a farm kid, I got to build systems that directly supported Manitoba’s farmers. So, for me, it wasn’t just any job — it was a purposeful job that burgeoned into a deeply satisfying career.
A great team: Most of our shop consisted of long-term members. That kind of commitment fostered confidence and continuity within our team. Not everyone stayed, of course, but those who did leave after short stints also didn’t seem to share the same kind of team enthusiasm and “esprit de corps”. When they left, it became addition by subtraction. And everyone else pulled their weight, supported each other, and knew how to fix a problem (or at least find the person who could).
Respect across departments: We custom-built software for every team, and I can count on one hand the number of people I didn’t get along with. Now, granted, I’m under no illusion that those feelings were genuinely mutual. After all, if I needed to squash a bug for someone then they pretty much had to laugh at my jokes and greet my dubious fashion choices with flattery, right?
A solid company: From the beginning, our company was a place with purpose, with a commitment to serving Manitoba’s farmers that was woven into the fabric of the corporate culture. Over the years, I saw firsthand how our organization became the province’s most trusted resource for delivering additional emergency programs during times of agricultural crisis. In a recent customer satisfaction survey, 95% of respondents said they trusted us. That kind of reputation happens because of the people, the mission, and the culture. And I felt proud to be part of it. And while I didn’t personally measure a single grain bin or inspect a crop after a hail storm, I did help build the systems that made it happen. Which, in programming terms, is basically the same thing.
Stability: Familiarity, seniority, and a predictable paycheque are hard to beat — especially when the alternative is rolling the dice on a new company with a staff of four, a foosball table and no pension.
Expert status: By not chasing internal promotions or external job opportunities, I was able to learn more about the company, which in turn made me better at my job. It helped me become a reliable and necessary asset.
Avoiding management: I love programming. Becoming a manager would’ve meant less time coding and more time devoted to meetings about meetings. Hard pass.
A dream commute: Ten minutes to the office, ten minutes home. Right now, the average Canadian spends almost 27 minutes commuting to the office. And I was making the round trip in less time. By my reckoning, an extra 17 minutes each way over the course of my career would’ve translated into 4,170 additional hours in a car. And I don’t mind admitting that I put that time to good use!
What I could’ve done: Learn Mandarin, master the tuba or (ironically enough) become a competent programmer.
What I did do: No regrets.
Two Roads Diverged in a Wood
Here’s the part where I pass judgement on my choice with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow. I never seriously considered leaving. I didn’t browse job boards. I didn’t contact recruitment agencies. I didn’t fantasize about working somewhere with free craft beer on tap. OK, that last one was a lie. At any rate, I opted to stay put.
Was refusing to explore other job opportunities a mistake? I genuinely enjoyed where I was, so I never really felt the need to explore alternate career paths to pad out my résumé. The idea of uprooting myself and starting fresh felt risky. It wasn’t change I feared — it was having to learn everyone’s names again.
In all seriousness, there didn’t seem to be any compelling reason to leave beyond curiosity. Staying gave me the chance to keep learning, deepen my knowledge of the business, and build a reputation that made me feel secure. The more I knew, the more valuable I became — and the more I felt like I belonged.
But I do regret not even entertaining the idea of leaving. I never gave myself the chance to compare.
To ask, “What else is out there?”
To wonder if the combination of my skills and personality could translate to a new environment where the job would be as challenging, the work as impactful, and the team as supportive — or if I’d be starting from scratch in a place where no one knew the value I could provide, or maybe didn’t even care.
Reflection
In the email I sent out to my coworkers on my last day, I spoke about the serendipitous nature of how my employment came to be. The secretary of the Mathematics and Computer Science Department at the university had just taken a phone call enquiring about potential graduates looking for a job opportunity. A few minutes later, she spotted me walking by her desk. She gave me the name and number to call. That led to a phone interview, then to an in-person interview, and then to a job offer. So I was literally in the right place at the right time. And, 32 years later (“ages and ages hence”), I pondered what might have happened had I not been walking by at that moment when I wrote: “It’s very likely I would have never met any of you, and a near certainty that none of the memories I am recalling would have ever taken place. But though there’s little doubt that my life would have been altogether different, it is impossible for me to believe that it could have been even the tiniest bit better.”
So I don’t regret staying. But I do regret not exploring. Not testing the waters. Not asking, “What if?”
I stayed because I was happy. Because it was safe. Because it was familiar. Because it worked. But I never asked myself if it was the only thing that could work.
If I could go back, I’d at least peek over the fence. I’d browse the want ads. I’d talk to people in other companies. I’d ask myself if there was something else I wanted, instead of assuming that what I already had was all that I needed.
And I probably would’ve still stayed. But I’d stay knowing I had options. That I chose this road — one that, despite its twists and turns, led me to spend my entire career at one company. I chose it, not just defaulted to it. Spending your entire career with the same address on your business card is definitely a rarity.
As Robert Frost wrote:
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I — I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”
I didn’t know I was choosing the road less traveled at the time — I just happened to be walking past it when I was handed a phone number. And that, too, made all the difference.
Lesson Learned
Staying put isn’t necessarily a mistake. But never considering any alternatives probably is.
Whether you’re a lifer or a leaper, the key lies in honestly establishing your intention to yourself. If you know you want to stay put, then be sure you know why you’re staying. And if you want to hoist anchor and test the waters elsewhere, be sure you bring out the pan balance and ensure that what you’re giving up doesn’t outweigh what you’re gaining.
If you’re happy in your role, work with a great team and get a feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment by solving problems for your coworkers, great.
But don’t let fear of the unknown keep you from discovering what you’re capable of. Don’t let “good enough” be good enough. Don’t let comfort morph into complacency.
Because sometimes, the biggest career mistake isn’t taking the wrong job. It’s never asking yourself if there’s a right one waiting for you someplace else.
Like what you read? I write, rewrite, overthink, rewrite again, and eventually post these things in hopes they resonate. If something struck a chord, sparked an idea, or — most importantly — made you laugh, please drop a comment below. Sarcasm is welcome, cruelty is not. So be honest, and be nice. It’s possible to do both.
And if you'd like to support the effort (or just bribe me to keep going), you can buy me a coffee. No pressure — but caffeine is a powerful motivator.
Full disclosure: you can’t actually make me buy a coffee with your donation. I might use it for a beer instead.