Football season is approaching fast. Fall camps are about to kick off, and interviews with players and coaches are starting to roll in. What if the most dangerous play this fall isn’t on the field, but on your résumé?

Not a missed tackle. Not a blown call. But accepting the wrong job. The one that looks like a touchdown on paper but turns out to be a quarterback sack in real life. The job that promises a championship run but also benches your joy, sidelines your values, and wears you down one quarter at a time.

Because sometimes the worst career move isn’t failure, it’s success in the wrong uniform.

In higher education, hiring season is also on the horizon. Some search committees have been quietly doing the work: refining job descriptions, hiring consultants, setting up screening criteria since spring or early summer. Others will begin in earnest this fall, posting positions for faculty, advisors, student affairs professionals, and top administrators. The season brings anticipation, anxiety, and opportunity. Résumés will be polished. Cover letters rewritten. References will be called. Interviews will be conducted.

The same cycle is underway in other sectors as well. In business, nonprofit, government, and health care settings, fiscal years are turning over. New budgets are unlocking new positions. Organizations are expanding teams. People are shifting roles, moving departments, or reentering the workforce. Jobs are opening not only for executives and senior leaders, but for program managers, analysts, designers, nurses, organizers, engineers, and entry-level hires. Whether it’s a big-name CEO search or a first job out of college, people everywhere are scanning job boards and imagining new possibilities.

And as these transitions begin, the same questions surface: Should I apply? Is this the right time? Will I be supported in this role, or just tolerated? Will I grow here, or slowly lose myself in the process? And through it all, candidates will be asked—sometimes subtly, sometimes directly—to pursue positions that may not be aligned with who they are or what they value. That is why now is the right moment to reflect. Because in the rush of ambition and opportunity, it is easy to forget that the next job is not always the right job.

I remember arriving at the University of Kentucky as a new dean when an alum of the College of Education asked if I would consider applying for Commissioner of Education for the state of Kentucky. It was too soon. It was not the right fit. And in hindsight, I regret applying. I did not fully realize then how important it was to discern timing and alignment, not just being open to an opportunity. In the end, I stayed on as dean, and I am grateful I did. The person ultimately selected, Jason Glass, became a great friend. That, in fact, turned out to be the best part of the search for me.

We have all been there, or we fear getting there. That moment when you realize the career move that once seemed like destiny was, in hindsight, a detour from your purpose. You thought you could make change from the inside. You told yourself you had to take it, for the community, for your mother. But eventually, the job that looked like a blessing pressed on you like a burden. And then, you are faced with a decision far harder than accepting an offer: what now?

For Scott Frost, that moment came in the aftermath of leaving the University of Central Florida to take the head coaching job at Nebraska, his alma mater. In 2017, Frost was at the peak of his coaching career. He led UCF to a perfect 13-0 season, transforming a previously winless program into one of the most exciting teams in the country. The Knights declared themselves national champions. While the playoff committee did not agree, millions across the country celebrated their underdog triumph. It was a cultural moment. It was joyful. It was his.

And then he left. Why? Because Nebraska called. The storied program where he had once led the team to glory as quarterback during a national championship season. The place he loved. The place he felt he owed something. His return was framed as a homecoming. But behind the scenes, Frost already had doubts. “I got tugged in a direction to try to help my alma mater and didn’t really want to do it,” he admitted later. “It wasn’t a good move.”

That kind of honesty is rare in public leadership, especially in sports. But this is not just about football. It is about identity, pressure, and choice. Because this is not merely a football story. It is a leadership story. An equity story. A deeply human story. In our careers, we often chase jobs that check the right boxes: prestigious organizations, big budgets, national visibility. We tell ourselves we can handle the dysfunction. That we can work with hostile colleagues. That we will survive the resistance to equity, inclusion, or innovation. We believe our presence alone will change the place.

But what if the place changes us instead? What if that big job drains our energy, isolates us from our values, or puts communities last? What if the pursuit of innovation causes us to forget the joy of simply doing the work? Frost’s tenure at Nebraska was rocky. He ended with a 16-31 record. In 2022, he was fired mid-season. A promising young coach became a cautionary tale. The media picked apart his legacy. Fans turned bitter. But in the quiet that followed leaving Nebraska, something powerful happened. Frost did not rush to reclaim his status. He did not take the next shiny job. He took a breath. He returned to what mattered most.

He spent time with his kids. He threw the football in the yard. He went to gymnastics meets. He reconnected with the rhythm of life beyond the spotlight. Then he took a transitional job with the Los Angeles Rams. It was not glamorous. But it was a deliberate move to get back to himself. To reset. To rebuild. Not to prove something, but to re-center joy.

Now he is back at UCF as the head football coach. “I’m excited to get back in a place where my family and I get treated well,” he said. That line stays with me. Because how many of us have worked in places where we were not treated well? Where our presence as leaders was barely tolerated? Where our ideas were dismissed, our credibility undermined, and our joy quietly eroded?

This is not just a sports lesson. It is a wake-up call for anyone navigating this season of opportunity. Whether you are in education, business, the arts, nonprofit management, or public service, the stakes are similar. The pressure to serve is real. So is the cost of misalignment. Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is not take the job that looks best on paper, but the one that brings you peace. Sometimes, the most strategic move is not new surroundings, but a pause. Sometimes, a job change is not a step back, but a step back to yourself.

This fall, as hiring season ramps up across professions, applicants will face big decisions. Some will apply for dream roles. Others will get offers they did not expect. And many will wrestle with the same question: Is this job for me to serve community, or instead a rung on a stress ladder?

We must give ourselves permission to choose differently. To prioritize alignment over expectations. To return to our UCF rather than force ourselves into a Nebraska. And yes, to accept transitions when we need to heal, reflect, or simply breathe.

A job is not about the title on your business card. It is about knowing your purpose and protecting your peace. It is about choosing environments where your values can flourish, not just survive. And it is about refusing to let broken organizations break you in the process of trying to fix them.

Scott Frost jokes now that the biggest lesson he learned was: “Don’t take the wrong job.” It sounds simple. But it is the kind of wisdom that only comes after deep loss, of identity, of time, and sometimes of your own voice. I have lived versions of that lesson. I have watched colleagues in tech, medicine, education, and advocacy learn it the hard way. And I have come to believe this above all: There is power in returning to joy. There is strategy in walking away. There is wisdom in choosing peace over prestige.

So to those scanning the job postings this fall, ask yourself not just what is next, but what is right. You are not obligated to accept what does not align once you get to know a team, a board, a campus, or a company. You can reset. You can start again, not from scratch, but from experience. Because sometimes the bravest, most radical thing you can do is go to where you will be happy.

Just ask Scott Frost. Or remember these words from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.: “Peace is not merely a distant goal that we seek, but a means by which we arrive at that goal.”

Let peace guide the path you choose.

Please share.