After 11 years at the same company, I became bored and bitter. The pandemic was the kick in the pants I needed to find a role in another field that gave me joy.

• Angela Hatem worked for the same not-for-profit for 11 years and enjoyed most of her years there.
• But when the pandemic hit it was a wakeup call that she was no longer happy.

This story is part of "$4," an Insider series documenting the moves and moments that shaped people's careers over the last two years.

When it comes to choosing careers, I consider myself a realistic dreamer. I shoot for positions that merge the skills I'm professionally good at with my passions and pipe dreams.

Growing up, I was hugely into music. I knew my chances of becoming the next Adele were slim to none, so when I was 23 I took a job in event planning at a radio station.

After my radio-station job, I accepted a position in the fundraising department for a sports-focused not-for-profit, as sports were another passion of mine as a kid. It was there that I spent the next 11 years of my career.

For 8 of those years, I loved going to work

Every day I learned something new and faced a new challenge. The classic job-description safety net of "other duties as assigned" wasn't a burden to me but an opportunity.

While my key responsibility was fundraising, my unofficial part-time position was database administrator, and I was tasked with data integrity, user adoption, and troubleshooting issues.

I wasn't ceremoniously given this job because I possessed the skill set — at the time I could barely program people's numbers into my phone. But what I lacked in know-how I made up for in interest. It was like doing a puzzle day after day, and, surprisingly, I was good at these types of puzzles.

At about Year 9, I started to feel like my challenges were less and less and my boredom and bitterness were building

I was on autopilot, getting the job done but not really feeling like I was going anywhere. I kept trying to squirm my way more into the tech side of my role, but fundraising was my focus, and I began to resent it.

By the time the pandemic hit, all the bitterness, boredom, and resentment I'd piled up made a skyscraper of complacency.

Like everyone in the world, in March 2020 I was quarantining at home

My then-11-month-old son's daycare closed, and there were a lot of big question marks out in the world, but we were home safe and contained.

Initially I thought quarantine was going to be this unforeseen and brief extension to my maternity leave — another chance for me to be physically present for his "must see" moments.

On April 24, 2020, as I sat on our living-room floor playing blocks and taking a conference call, I watched as my son took his first steps. I screamed like a banshee into my unmuted phone, terrifying my coworkers and my son in one loud swoop, but I didn't care.

A few days following his initial steps, my boy said his first three-syllable word: "bas-ket-ball." We went on walks together during the day, and I sent emails while he took his naps.

I crammed my business hours in where I could

My office was open from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m., and I had to regularly participate in meetings via phone during that time.

Sitting in front of my computer all day was nearly impossible. If I was too focused on my email, I wasn't focused enough on my son climbing on the couch. If I was too distracted while sending emails, there was a huge chance of embarrassing typos. So I learned to wait to respond until my son was in bed.

Time for myself was nonexistent. The only time I wasn't in motion was when I slept. I was giving all I could, and it felt like it was never enough.

In August 2020 my son's daycare reopened, and I opted to return to the office for 3 days a week

Returning wasn't required at this point, but I did feel a twinge of invisible peer pressure to make an appearance. Our team did the best they could to make those still working virtually feel connected, but there was a divide, and it scared me. I had a very deep concern that if I was out of sight, I was out of mind, and if I was either or both I would be out of a paycheck.

From a responsibility perspective, it was also difficult to ask organizations and individuals for donations during this time. Businesses were closing. People were losing their jobs. The world was a disaster — and in a lot of ways, so was I.

I knew I wasn't happy, but I couldn't stop moving to figure out why.

Then in November 2020, I contracted COVID-19

I thankfully experienced only mild physical symptoms. But I'd become ill with the thing the whole world was terrified of, and that was alarming.

And it made me evaluate my life. I was bored, unhappy, and bitter, and when I took the time to really think about who I was bored, unhappy, and bitter with, it wasn't my employer at all — it was with myself. I was no longer curious about the work I was doing. It was only a matter of time before all the negativity spilled into my personal life and impacted how I raised my son.

So I began taking stock of what makes me happy and makes me feel like me

To be the best version of myself, I knew I needed to be challenged, have flexibility, and care about what I was doing. The dreamer in me wanted to take a chance on myself and my interest in tech. The realist in me knew I had to do something with the relationship skills and my knowledge of nonprofits.

I began reaching out to my network of tech-focused friends and asking for their advice. Two of them pointed me toward my current employer, $4, a consulting firm that assists nonprofits and other businesses in using the Salesforce platform.

My friends were kind enough to put in a good word for me, and I joined Arkus in July 2021 as an implementation consultant

Through the work I do, I get to make a difference. As an added bonus, as Salesforce is always growing and changing, every day is a learning day. Much like with my previous employer, I get to do this work alongside some truly brilliant and supportive people.

My workspace is where I make it, and I'm provided the freedom, flexibility, and tools to achieve my goals. My personal life is respected, appreciated, and honored. I probably put in more hours than I did at my previous role, but with the ability to define my own schedule it doesn't feel like it. I had an amount of flexibility in my previous role, but creating distance from work and personal life wasn't easy.

I've been a grown-up in the workforce for roughly 22 years, yet this is the first time in my career where I've felt like I'm treated as an adult

As a single mother and professional, it wasn't an easy decision to take a chance on myself and leave the security, history, mission, and friendships of my old job, but it was one of the best rolls of the dice I ever made.

I don't want to give the pandemic too much credit, if any, in helping me ask myself the tough questions. I would have gotten there eventually. But it's hard not to be grateful for such a powerful kick in the pants.