Shantay Robinson
Jan 9, 2026
In my mid-20s, I spent my evenings making sales calls over the phone to pitch symphony subscriptions to people who were just trying to have dinner. These nights were tough. It was so easy to feel defeated, get a drink, and cry on the train ride home. I wanted to quit often, but I maintained my focus, at least for a little while. I had a strategy that would get me through one of the toughest times of my life.
While thumbing through The Creative Act: A Way of Being by Rick Rubin, I came across the quote “Our work embodies a higher purpose” and immediately thought about all the work I once considered mundane. Rubin’s words offer insight into how every opportunity, even the ones that feel insignificant, can serve a larger purpose. Engaging not only in the performative aspects of art—like dancing and writing—but also in the support roles—marketing, sales, customer service—has given me a unique understanding of the many layers of art and artistry.
Selling subscriptions for a symphony, selling tickets and memberships at an art museum, and selling programs for a nonprofit all felt like dead ends at the time. Still, I approached each job with intention, hoping the experience was preparing me for something greater, even if I didn’t yet know what that was. I had no idea where my path would lead, but I was strategic about each new opportunity.
Working in mundane jobs can feel excruciating while you’re in them. Often, what’s ahead is beyond our imagination. I had no idea I would one day become a professor when I was selling symphony subscriptions over the phone. All I knew was that I couldn’t quit too soon without creating a blemish on my resume. After reaching a year in subscription sales, I sought the next step. I was deliberate about the opportunities I pursued. Because I imagined building a career in sales, I chose to sell ads—not write for the student media—while earning my MFA in writing. I wanted my resume to reflect a coherent path, and I took every job seriously.
I kept moving through sales roles, which eventually led to a position at the art museum as a Guest Relations Representative, where I sold both tickets and memberships. But I was also volunteering as a docent, giving tours. My ability to sell memberships while also informing visitors about art made me well-suited for the job. Still, my goal was never to stay there forever. I was completing my MFA thesis, and on my days off from the front desk, I wrote about art. And the blog I kept, afforded me entry into an art writer’s mentorship program.
Eventually, I moved into a full-time sales position at a nonprofit on the same campus as the museum, but after a layoff, I returned to the museum. While on unemployment and considering my next move, I applied for an adjunct teaching position—and I got it.
That was the moment everything clicked. Teaching and writing became my passion and my professional home. But I arrived there because I was focused on a career in sales—one that made me look polished, consistent, and experienced. In building that path, I was also building my brand, gaining business experience, and preparing myself for the opportunities my education would eventually unlock.
I’m not saying that pursuing your dreams head-on isn’t wise; it was simply too frightening for me. In a sense I sacrificed passion for focus. By taking those so-called dead-end jobs seriously, I found my way to work I love—and a career that finally makes sense. When stakeholders looked at my resume, they saw someone dedicated, intentional, and maybe even passionate. The circuitous journey led me to the ultimate goal. The key was I kept moving in a purposeful direction.