Lately, I keep seeing headlines and hearing talking points about how employers and colleges are “working together to create lasting good jobs in Western North Carolina.” It’s a hopeful phrase, one that suggests stability, opportunity, and a future worth investing in. But the more I look into it, the more I find myself asking a simple question that somehow has no simple answer: What exactly is a good job? And perhaps more importantly, good for whom?

From the context, you might assume “good job” means higher pay, better benefits, or a career path that allows a young person to build a life here in the mountains. But when you dig into how the term is actually being used by state agencies, workforce boards, and community colleges, a different picture emerges. “Good job,” in the current North Carolina policy vocabulary, often means something closer to “an employer’s need filled” or “a job that aligns with the programs colleges want to run.” The worker’s perspective—what makes a job good for the person doing it—rarely appears in the definition.

Across the state’s workforce initiatives, a “good job” tends to be defined by a few recurring criteria:

• It’s in a high‑demand field where employers report shortages.
• It supports regional economic development goals.
• It requires a credential or degree that community colleges can provide.
• It is assumed, though not guaranteed, to pay a “living wage.”

Notice what’s missing: predictable schedules, safe working conditions, advancement opportunities, work‑life balance, or alignment with a student’s interests or long‑term goals. These are the things workers consistently say matter most, yet they rarely make it into the official definition.

And here’s where the disconnect becomes especially clear. In Buncombe County, the 2025 living‑wage benchmark is $23.15 an hour for a single adult renting a modest one‑bedroom apartment (according to Just Economics of Western North Carolina, the region’s recognized living‑wage certifying organization). Yet many of the jobs most aggressively promoted as “good jobs” in Western North Carolina — such as certified nursing assistants, medical assistants, and early childhood educators — often pay several dollars below that threshold. These roles are labeled “good” not because they reliably support a stable life, but because employers are desperate to fill them and colleges can train people quickly for them. The wage reality simply doesn’t match the rhetoric.

But students and job seekers see things differently. Take a young person who loves small children and has decided to become a childcare worker. She or he can expect to make about $15 an hour on average, according to Salary.com — not nearly enough to reach that $23.15 living‑wage threshold. And the situation may get worse. Some of the proposed legislative changes now under consideration would loosen staffing and capacity rules for childcare centers. Providers warn that these changes could increase workload, reduce safety, and intensify burnout — all without any proposed increase in pay. In other words, the job may become harder and more stressful, while remaining financially unsustainable.

This gap between employer‑centered and worker‑centered definitions is not new, but it feels especially stark right now. Western North Carolina is in the middle of a major workforce push—post‑pandemic, post‑Helene, post‑manufacturing decline—and the pressure to fill certain roles is intense. Community colleges are under their own pressures: enrollment challenges, funding tied to workforce outcomes, and the need to demonstrate “return on investment.” When employers and colleges sit down together to define “good jobs,” it’s no surprise that the definition leans toward labor‑market needs rather than human needs.

But students and job seekers see things differently. For them, a good job is one that allows them to build a stable life, not just fill a vacancy. It’s a job that pays enough to live in the community they serve. It’s a job with dignity, safety, and a future. It’s a job that fits who they are and who they hope to become.

So when we hear that North Carolina is creating “good jobs,” we should ask: Are these jobs good because they help employers grow, or because they help workers thrive? Ideally, the answer would be both. But right now, the rhetoric leans heavily toward the employer side of the equation. Until we broaden the definition to include the lived realities of workers and students, we risk building pipelines (the very term dehumanizes) that serve institutions more than people.

Maybe the better question isn’t “What is a good job?” but “What is a fulfilling one?”