In conversations over the last week, I’ve been shocked to discover how many of my friends hate their jobs. And I don’t mean vaguely dislike. I mean hate. With a passion.

A small percentage, however, are thrilled with what they’re doing. By and large, those happy few actually have worse jobs than the unhappy ones. Lower pay, less respect, more grunt work. The difference, it seems, is that my happy friends have a sense of where they want to be and how their job is a step in the right direction.

One happy friend, for example, recently realized that his dream in life was to become a restaurateur. Problematically, his experience in the field was mainly limited to occasionally eating out. He left a cushy investment banking job and is now working as a backup maitre d’ and glorified busboy. His hours are terrible and his pay a small fraction of what he made before. But he’s thrilled.

The rest of my happy friends fit the same mold: they’ve spent serious time soul-searching, achieved some initial clarity to their dreams, and taken concrete (if perhaps trivial ) action.

Tritely enough, they’ve followed their hearts. It’s clich