35M here.

I’m at a point in my career—and honestly, in my life—where I really don’t know what to do anymore. I wanted to share my situation to hopefully get some advice and brainstorm solutions during a time of need.

I’ll try to keep it brief and expand on things in the comments if you have any questions.

After graduating from a technological scientific high school, I studied art, specifically film, at university, aiming to become a screenwriter or at least work directly with storytelling. After getting my master's degree in 2017, following some soul-searching and a few extra courses, I was lucky enough to have a major TV production come through my area, and I managed to get in as a production assistant/runner.

I immediately realized I had made a huge mistake. I discovered this is a world that produces garbage and nothing else, for various reasons not worth going into here. Full of bullying, run by a sort of Roman mafia (or rather, from Ostia), I realized there was no space for me there. After giving the industry a few more shots—working on a few commercials and then some independent productions, eventually making a small name for myself locally as a script supervisor—I ended up looking around for greener pastures.

I registered as a freelancer and started taking on various gigs. I worked as an independent videographer, started organizing a small annual nerd event in my city, and wrote and self-published a few books.

A few years ago, it turned out that one of my best friends and colleagues was working for a concert production service. It’s work that’s very similar to film, but with far less bullying, far less chaos, much more satisfaction, and slightly better pay. I managed to get in, and I gradually abandoned film for good, focusing more and more on the concert scene, working as a driver and runner.

Out of all these jobs, being a videographer was initially the most lucrative; however, over time—and largely by my own choice—the concert work grew until it became my main source of income by a wide margin. Starting in 2024, I also began going to Norway every summer: I go to a festival in Bergen as a volunteer. That way, on one hand, I build my network meeting people outside of Italy, and on the other hand, I do what I love: being backstage, truly experiencing the creation of art, and building up my resume by learning new skills.

The thing is, I liked that job. I liked the company, I liked the work, and I liked my coworkers. A year ago, thanks to the wonderful experience in Norway, I told myself it was time to step up—that this was truly my world. So I started asking for more work. This year, after a slow start for events, and after working in these roles at the Olympics—where I expanded my network even further and earned respect for my skills—it turned out the company was hiring an "operational planner," basically a manager to oversee the service's various operators. Both I and the friend who originally got me in applied, and after a somewhat bizarre selection process, they hired us both, aiming to give us similar duties but assign us to different departments. Meanwhile, peak event season kicked off: from late April onward, I worked non-stop, almost every day with very few days off, and whenever there was a lull, both of us were called into the office.

From late May, I started working in this new position. And I liked it; I felt comfortable in it. There was a mountain of work to do and the training was terrible, but my colleague and I managed, and we made a good team. We kept working without breaks, sometimes skipping all days off for weeks, because that’s just the nature of peak season, which ends in mid-July.

And indeed, three weeks ago, we walked into the office, and I could finally catch my breath. Peak season was over, I was right where I wanted to be, doing a job consistent with everything I know how to do, everything I studied, and everything I had done before. I know how to code, and even that proved useful: I updated the company's Excel spreadsheets with TypeScript macros, automating steps that previously consumed hours of work every day. I felt like I had finally "arrived" in a way, after 35 years of an objectively tough path. From here, I was on a plateau where I could rest, for once, and then figure out how to keep growing, calmly and with no one breathing down my neck.

That very same day, I was fired.

After an hour and twenty minutes of holding me hostage in a chair trying to get me to say I didn’t feel up to the task or in the right place, and then trying to give abstract examples of my alleged lack of precision, they finally told me that my very informal approach with colleagues, my lack of empathy, and the fact that I had danced at one of their events while wearing the company uniform indicated I was incompatible with the role. My partner-in-crime was kept. What obviously happened is that they hired two people for peak season to keep only one, and they kept him; the rest was total nonsense.

Six days later, I left for Norway for the third time, and obviously, it was a... unique trip. I spent ten days asking myself what on earth I should do at this point.

I busted my ass for all these years just to feel good for ONE DAY. For all these years, I accepted ridiculous pay and assignments completely inconsistent with my skills and education just to get somewhere. And as soon as I get there, I find myself completely reset to zero once again.

In Norway, I found myself surrounded by people grateful for my work. People who remembered me from the year before and were happy I was back to help out. Those people were in disbelief when they heard my story. I haven't talked to my old boss from the Olympics yet, but I'm certain that he—being one of the people who pushed me most to step up over the past year—will be stunned too. For ten days, the mere thought of eventually having to go back to Italy was enough to make me sick to my stomach. And now I’m back, but I look around with disgust.

The point is that something broke. For all these years, I had obviously considered the possibility of leaving, but I chose to stay. I even have dual citizenship (Canadian). I stayed because, for one reason or another, I always had something here. A relationship, for a few years. My jobs. Now I own a home in my name, with no mortgage. I stayed for my friends and my social circle. I stayed for my family. I stayed because I'm nostalgic, and I felt it would be hard for me to detach from everything I have.

But now I see my friends less and less. Some have actually moved abroad. I don't have a relationship. Nobody calls me for videography anymore because I went all-in on concerts for a year. And now the company I gave my all to, professionally speaking, treats me like this. Technically, I could keep working as a driver for them. But I don't want to.

Something broke: I believed until the end that I could make it in this country too, despite how hard the industry is, despite the lack of meritocracy, despite having to sacrifice a lot. But now I can't take it anymore. Nothing worked, right when it was supposed to work. I’m thirty-five, and I feel like I’m twenty: nothing to show for it, professionally speaking. Whatever I choose to do, I feel like I'll have to start over from scratch.

I literally have nothing. I have my annual event at the end of the month, and I have my third book to finish. Small things that will net me a few hundred euros at best. After that, I have nothing left.

I don't really know what to do. It feels like it's too late to seriously think about moving abroad, where maybe I'd find a mindset more aligned with mine, a more meritocratic system that recognizes the value I know I can bring, and better pay. And I'm not necessarily talking about Norway, where I have some contacts now. I'm thinking of the Olympics network, which will be back in these parts in three and a half years, in the French Alps. But even if I wanted to leave, I wouldn't know where to start. I'm not twenty: I can't just throw away everything I've done for half my life and leave, ready for anything. I studied and worked in art, and I need to keep doing that. But aside from my few contacts, I wouldn't know where to begin. And even if I knew, what do I do with my house here? My parents are getting older; is it really time to pack my bags? Is there really no other possibility for me here?

Anyway, I’d like your opinions. I feel mistreated, depressed, pissed off, and I’m mulling over ideas. I plan to make decisions around October.

35M here. The post has been translated in English by Gemini, but it was written in Italian by me; that's why you'll see some dashes. Everything you'll read is true and real and can be proven if necessary.

I’m at a point in my career—and honestly, in my life—where I really don’t know what to do anymore. I wanted to share my situation to hopefully get some advice and brainstorm solutions during a time of need.

I’ll try to keep it brief and expand on things in the comments if you have any questions.

After graduating from a technological scientific high school, I studied art, specifically film, at university, aiming to become a screenwriter or at least work directly with storytelling. After getting my master's degree in 2017, following some soul-searching and a few extra courses, I was lucky enough to have a major TV production come through my area, and I managed to get in as a production assistant/runner.

I immediately realized I had made a huge mistake. I discovered this is a world that produces garbage and nothing else, for various reasons not worth going into here. Full of bullying, run by a sort of Roman mafia (or rather, from Ostia), I realized there was no space for me there. After giving the industry a few more shots—working on a few commercials and then some independent productions, eventually making a small name for myself locally as a script supervisor—I ended up looking around for greener pastures.

I registered as a freelancer and started taking on various gigs. I worked as an independent videographer, started organizing a small annual nerd event in my city, and wrote and self-published a few books.

A few years ago, it turned out that one of my best friends and colleagues was working for a concert production service. It’s work that’s very similar to film, but with far less bullying, far less chaos, much more satisfaction, and slightly better pay. I managed to get in, and I gradually abandoned film for good, focusing more and more on the concert scene, working as a driver and runner.

Out of all these jobs, being a videographer was initially the most lucrative; however, over time—and largely by my own choice—the concert work grew until it became my main source of income by a wide margin. Starting in 2024, I also began going to Norway every summer: I go to a festival in Bergen as a volunteer. That way, on one hand, I build my network meeting people outside of Italy, and on the other hand, I do what I love: being backstage, truly experiencing the creation of art, and building up my resume by learning new skills.

The thing is, I liked that job. I liked the company, I liked the work, and I liked my coworkers. A year ago, thanks to the wonderful experience in Norway, I told myself it was time to step up—that this was truly my world. So I started asking for more work. This year, after a slow start for events, and after working in these roles at the Olympics—where I expanded my network even further and earned respect for my skills—it turned out the company was hiring an "operational planner," basically a manager to oversee the service's various operators. Both I and the friend who originally got me in applied, and after a somewhat bizarre selection process, they hired us both, aiming to give us similar duties but assign us to different departments. Meanwhile, peak event season kicked off: from late April onward, I worked non-stop, almost every day with very few days off, and whenever there was a lull, both of us were called into the office.

From late May, I started working in this new position. And I liked it; I felt comfortable in it. There was a mountain of work to do and the training was terrible, but my colleague and I managed, and we made a good team. We kept working without breaks, sometimes skipping all days off for weeks, because that’s just the nature of peak season, which ends in mid-July.

And indeed, three weeks ago, we walked into the office, and I could finally catch my breath. Peak season was over, I was right where I wanted to be, doing a job consistent with everything I know how to do, everything I studied, and everything I had done before. I know how to code, and even that proved useful: I updated the company's Excel spreadsheets with TypeScript macros, automating steps that previously consumed hours of work every day. I felt like I had finally "arrived" in a way, after 35 years of an objectively tough path. From here, I was on a plateau where I could rest, for once, and then figure out how to keep growing, calmly and with no one breathing down my neck.

That very same day, I was fired.

After an hour and twenty minutes of holding me hostage in a chair trying to get me to say I didn’t feel up to the task or in the right place, and then trying to give abstract examples of my alleged lack of precision, they finally told me that my very informal approach with colleagues, my lack of empathy, and the fact that I had danced at one of their events while wearing the company uniform indicated I was incompatible with the role. My partner-in-crime was kept. What obviously happened is that they hired two people for peak season to keep only one, and they kept him; the rest was total nonsense.

Six days later, I left for Norway for the third time, and obviously, it was a... unique trip. I spent ten days asking myself what on earth I should do at this point.

I busted my ass for all these years just to feel good for ONE DAY. For all these years, I accepted ridiculous pay and assignments completely inconsistent with my skills and education just to get somewhere. And as soon as I get there, I find myself completely reset to zero once again.

In Norway, I found myself surrounded by people grateful for my work. People who remembered me from the year before and were happy I was back to help out. Those people were in disbelief when they heard my story. I haven't talked to my old boss from the Olympics yet, but I'm certain that he—being one of the people who pushed me most to step up over the past year—will be stunned too. For ten days, the mere thought of eventually having to go back to Italy was enough to make me sick to my stomach. And now I’m back, but I look around with disgust.

The point is that something broke. For all these years, I had obviously considered the possibility of leaving, but I chose to stay. I even have dual citizenship (Canadian). I stayed because, for one reason or another, I always had something here. A relationship, for a few years. My jobs. Now I own a home in my name, with no mortgage. I stayed for my friends and my social circle. I stayed for my family. I stayed because I'm nostalgic, and I felt it would be hard for me to detach from everything I have.

But now I see my friends less and less. Some have actually moved abroad. I don't have a relationship. Nobody calls me for videography anymore because I went all-in on concerts for a year. And now the company I gave my all to, professionally speaking, treats me like this. Technically, I could keep working as a driver for them. But I don't want to.

Something broke: I believed until the end that I could make it in this country too, despite how hard the industry is, despite the lack of meritocracy, despite having to sacrifice a lot. But now I can't take it anymore. Nothing worked, right when it was supposed to work. I’m thirty-five, and I feel like I’m twenty: nothing to show for it, professionally speaking. Whatever I choose to do, I feel like I'll have to start over from scratch.

I literally have nothing. I have my annual event at the end of the month, and I have my third book to finish. Small things that will net me a few hundred euros at best. After that, I have nothing left.

I don't really know what to do. It feels like it's too late to seriously think about moving abroad, where maybe I'd find a mindset more aligned with mine, a more meritocratic system that recognizes the value I know I can bring, and better pay. And I'm not necessarily talking about Norway, where I have some contacts now. I'm thinking of the Olympics network, which will be back in these parts in three and a half years, in the French Alps. But even if I wanted to leave, I wouldn't know where to start. I'm not twenty: I can't just throw away everything I've done for half my life and leave, ready for anything. I studied and worked in art, and I need to keep doing that. But aside from my few contacts, I wouldn't know where to begin. And even if I knew, what do I do with my house here? My parents are getting older; is it really time to pack my bags? Is there really no other possibility for me here?

Anyway, I’d like your opinions. I feel mistreated, depressed, pissed off, and I’m mulling over ideas. I plan to make decisions around October.

https://preview.redd.it/df3uvepv6rhh1.png?width=554&format=png&auto=webp&s=0fea50d33dcd4bc0e2e86e7c5ced5c8554a1ed7c

So, I recently acquired Enslaved's Monumension. Great album, probably the weirdest one they ever produced, especially for the nods to early Pink Floyd productions. Now: I was looking at the tracks' names:

1. Convoys to Nothingness
2. The Voices
3. Vision: Sphere of the Elements – A Monument Part II
4. Hollow Inside
5. The Cromlech Gate
6. Enemy I
7. Smirr
8. The Sleep: Floating Diversity – A Monument Part III
9. Outro: Self-Zero
10. Sigmundskvadet

Let's address the elephant in the room: where the hell is A Monument Part I?

I assumed it might have been in a previous album, or in an EP, or even in a demo. I checked the english translations for all the titles of such productions (thanks Wikipedia) and there is no monument indeed.

I googled it and didn't find any mention whatsoever of a "monument part I" related to Enslaved. No interview, no reviews, no reference to some song by some other artist having a title like that, nothing.

So: did anybody wonder the same thing in the past? Have Enslaved ever been asked about it? Are we hoping for A Monument Part I to suddenly appear in their next production?

Ieri ho avuto il terzo e conclusivo colloquio con questa azienda che adesso mi ha assunto. Sulle modalità di assunzione non mi spenderò: sarà eventualmente motivo di un rant più avanti.

Era un incontro nel quale mi aspettavo che mi si sarebbe semplicemente mostrato un contratto da portarmi a casa e restituire firmato entro qualche giorno. Invece è stato uno showdown di tre ore con il tizio delle risorse umane.

Ora: io non sono pratico di queste cose. Nel mondo dell'arte/intrattenimento/spettacolo siamo abituati ad accordi presi a voce, a curriculum fatti unicamente di referenze, a contratti letteralmente inesistenti, il che significa che io finora (35M) mi sono sempre confrontato direttamente con i miei futuri capi con telefonate di due o tre minuti, oppure addirittura con un brevissimo scambio su WA, al termine dei quali mi veniva eventualmente detto "domani fatti trovare qui a quest'ora" e tanti saluti.

Stavolta invece si tratta di un'assunzione per un ruolo un po' più alto e di conseguenza mi sto finalmente confrontando con uno di questi fantomatici spaventapasseri delle risorse umane di cui ho letto tante volte su questi lidi, e anche se ero partito con tutte le migliori intenzioni devo dire che più ci ho a che fare più le mie domande aumentano.

Vorrei capire se la mia esperienza è la stessa di tutti quanti, e vorrei capire assieme a voi cosa pensare.

1. Questo tizio dice sempre le stesse cose, ad ogni colloquio. Parla dell'importanza del lavoro per il quale mi sta assumendo con una gravità teatralissima, e nel farlo ripete una dietro l'altra una serie di frasi fatte, che son sempre accompagnate dagli stessi esempi di vita, vai a capire quanto reali. Calca drammaticamente il tono su certe ovvietà riguardo al lavoro che dovrò fare, e ripete queste ovvietà ogni volta come se fossi un rincoglionito che non ha capito che lavoro sta andando a fare. È normale? Qua si stanno perdendo ore; ho l'impressione che se ieri anzichè passare tre ore a menare il can per l'aia mi si fosse fatto vedere il gestionale probabilmente a fine giornata già avrei saputo più o meno tutto ciò che dovevo sapere per iniziare a lavorare.
2. Non si capisce se questo tizio sia davvero parte della compagnia che rappresenta. Qualcuno mi ha detto che è un headhunter esterno chiamato per fare ricerca di personale. Qualcuno mi ha detto che è un vecchio socio dell'azienda. Lui prima dice di essere assunto, poi ride e ammette di non essere assunto, poi dice che si sta creando una nuova divisione della società di cui lui sarà a capo. Società che apparentemente è composta da pochissime persone e da una pletora di risorse con contratti a chiamata o giù di lì, quindi non si capisce in che senso dovrebbero esserci nuove divisioni: son quattro gatti, che dividi? Quindi: è normale che uno delle risorse umane faccia finta di essere uno che conta?
3. Fa questo giochetto assurdo di mostrarmi il mio stesso CV. Già al secondo colloquio l'avevo fatto, al primo no perchè era online. Cioè in pratica io mi siedo, noi cominciamo a parlare, e poi lui si mette a scartabellare tra i fogli che ha con sè, una risma di documenti alta una spanna. Ti aspetti che tiri fuori un contratto e invece tira fuori una versione stampata del post di LinkedIn che presentava l'offerta e il mio stesso CV, su cui c'è una singola nota presa a mano: la data e l'ora del mio primo colloquio. Me lo mette davanti come se fosse la prova scritta di un esame del quale adesso sto sostenendo l'orale, e poi parla d'altro. Io boh, sfoglio il mio stesso CV alla ricerca di note, o di cose. Magari ci ha aggiunto delle pagine in coda? Magari l'ha appoggiato sul contratto? Magari ha cerchiato in rosso delle cose su cui vuole spiegazioni? No, è il mio CV, e basta. Ieri l'ha messo via e l'ha ritirato fuori per TRE VOLTE. E io ogni volta me lo passavo tra le mani con un certo imbarazzo perchè mi pareva strano chiedergli "e di questo che me ne faccio?". Lo chiedo a voi. Cosa significa tutto questo? È un giochetto psicologico? Un trucchetto di prestigiazione per riempire il vuoto del tavolo? Un modo per temporeggiare aspettando che finisca il colloquio? Cosa dovrei farci io con il mio CV? Vuole vedere il modo in cui lo maneggio per capire se sono nervoso? Vuole far annusare a un cane il sudore dei miei polpastrelli per capire se sono drogato? Ditemi la vostra.
4. Presume che io abbia domande. Cioè lui mi convoca, anzichè darmi il contratto si mette a cincischiare, si mette a spiegare cose che io non gli ho chiesto dato che le ripete da due mesi, e poi dice "immagino che avrai mille domande". No, non ne ho nessuna, o almeno non su queste cazzate: a questo punto le mie domande sono puramente operative. Quando si inizia? Come si lavora? Che software usiamo? Me le pagate voi le licenze? È tutto in cloud? Devo gestire un budget? Devo conoscere delle normative? Devo prendere delle certificazioni? Posso vedere il mio contratto? La cosa pazzesca è che facendo una qualsiasi di queste domande lui va in para assoluta. Su quelle più burocatiche svia il discorso. Su quelle tecniche scoppia a ridere dicendo che lui di software non ne sa nulla (fino a un momento prima si vantava di avere una velocità di battuta di 500 battute al minuto, misurate non si sa come dato che ho appena controllato e l'unità di misura per la velocità di battitura sono le parole al minuto, non le battute al minuto...), definisce le mie domande sui software come "domande del cazzo che farò poi al mio capo" o "domande difficili e molto specifiche a cui lui non sa rispondere". Sweet summer child, mica ti ho chiesto quale versione di CAD usiate, se sia un problema lavorare con Debian, se per formattare i documenti aziendali abbiate una classe di LaTeX appositamente creata, se devo ripassarmi un po' di VBA per scrivere delle macro belle pesanti su Excel. In pratica: non ho domande, mi invita a farle, io me le invento e lui non risponde. Così per tre ore. Ma che ci stiamo a fare qui?
5. Durante la seconda fase del colloquio, in presenza dei miei futuri capi, lui ogni tanto prende la parola per dire una stronzata. Fa un esempio di vita, spara una frase fatta, tira fuori un detto inventato da lui (tutta roba che ha già detto in precedenza), solitamente interrompendo il flow dei capi in questione che magari stavano dicendo qualcosa di importante e lui finisce per far deragliare il discorso su una delle sue coglionate. Mi domando: è normale? Sta cercando di evitare che i capi dicano cose troppo compromettenti? Sta perseguendo dei fini aziendali reali?

L'impressione che ne ho è che lui stia scimmiottando la sua stessa importanza, che finga di sapere di cosa sta parlando e di essere parte del direttivo della società, quando in verità è un nessuno che viene messo lì per fini che mi sono completamente oscuri facendo perdere tempo a tutti quanti. Il suo dovere è selezionarmi? Bene, mi ha selezionato. Perchè non si leva?

A me pare di perdere tempo con questo uccello. Oggi avrò il primo incontro formativo col futuro capo e da quando ho capito ci sarà anche lui. A che pro, voglio poi vedere.