Career path

My career has been shaped by chance, curiosity, people and more failures than successes—and I’m sure the journey isn’t over yet.

First came the revelation that becoming a queen is not a question of will, effort, mental capacity, or capability—but of the family one is born into. In socialist Czechoslovakia, at the age of eleven, this was not clear, and nobody told me. Shortly after, I learned that astronauts should be good at math, and very, very fit. Already then, I felt I did not qualify for the tiny fraction of a percent representing the lucky ones in any of these categories* (for NASA it’s 0.07%, meaning 7 out of 10,000 already highly qualified candidates). A whole line of ideas and options followed—most of them never materialising for various reasons.

A clear shift that diverted me from classical language studies to political sciences was triggered by a passionate monologue of my future colleague. He invited me to join them for a class one day. I did—and then never left. In 2001, I received a letter from the European Parliament accepting me for a traineeship, at a time when my country wasn’t even a member state yet. I gave it a try; it worked out. My supervisor at the EP, later bridged my path into my first engagement at IOM Kosovo. There, I practically and scientifically confirmed something important: I love doing work that makes sense and helps improve people’s lives. That ambition remains, although only a few years before I hardly knew such a job even existed.

The people I met along the way—those who talked about their professional experiences, who made me curious or disinterested—all fine-tuned my direction. The first time I got a position I really, really wanted, in a war-ridden country, I realised something unexpected: the team needed far more of an HR counsellor, trainer, or mediator than a technically skilled officer in mass claim processing and legal review that I was. I spent around 60% of my time doing work I wasn’t hired for, yet something in the back of my mind kept telling me it made sense—and I enjoyed it.

I can say with certainty that failures shaped my path even more than successes. If even 10% of the positions I applied for had worked out, I would almost certainly not be doing what I do today—and very likely I would be living in another country.

In retrospect, I learned the most desirable professional skills as unavoidable side effects of jobs I once considered merely alimentary—temporary solutions until something “real” came along. Knowledge of budgeting and administration, so critical in project management, turned out to be more valued in the programme-oriented humanitarian world I aspired to than my two master’s degrees, politico-geographical knowledge, languages, or analytical skills combined. Those came second.

So do not underestimate any experience or skill you are learning that feels boring or useless today, that feels like a waste of time—because you never know when it might tip recruiter’s decision and “buy” you a place in a dream team, organisation, or company. Rarely is a career path straight and clear; more often, it involves detours, turns, and even changes in direction.

This is why I encourage my clients, especially young talents, to apply with an open mind and without prejudice.

To challenge themselves and, after identifying desirable but weak links in their skill set, to consider a temporary job that might fill the gap. It takes courage to step out of the comfort zone, out of the cosy and predictable box we are used to. Yet the reward can be far richer than a line on a CV or a pay cheque. It might become the ultimate professional detour: bringing unique people into your life, exposing you to different ideas, realities, sectors, and perspectives. Gains multiply when geography or language changes too.

Biologically, this is adaptation—the most powerful quality that brought us here as a species. Socially, it tests our limits, or makes us realise they are much broader than we thought. We may suffer or thrive; both are profound lessons and deep dives into self-discovery.

Even in fairy tales—at least the ones I grew up with—the youngest or silliest sibling was the one who went out into the world: to learn something, kill a dragon, find a treasure, or at least bring back a magical object. Today, we would call it resilience training. What doesn’t kill us makes us tougher.

A career, then, is less like a highway and more like a forest path: winding, sometimes uphill or down, but far more stimulating, diverse, and eventful. Don’t underestimate any experience—and give it a chance.

Key takeaways (especially for early-career professionals):

1. Career clarity is often retrospective. Confusion is not failure; it’s part of the process.

2. Detours are not delays. They often teach the skills your “dream job” will later require.

3. Temporary jobs are rarely wasted time. They may quietly build your strongest assets.

4. If you hunting for a dream job, explore it first. Meet someone who does it, ask questions, learn what it really takes, and see if it aligns with your priorities. Seek real insight, not just imagination.

5. Apply beyond your comfort zone. Growth usually happens where certainty ends.

6. Your path doesn’t need to look logical—only lived.

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