Goodbye, past work. Hello, new work era
It’s time we stopped trying to drag work back to what we used to know and figure out a new way forward.
“I hate it…” she whispers to me.
We’re leaning in over coffees and talking about her new contract. The contract that held so much promise, the one that she’d taken because it was her chance at her dream job.
She’d decided to leave freelancing. The freelance hustle had become wearying. The kids were grown enough now, and she was ready for her next challenge. A contract was a nice way to step out of one world and back into the other.
It was oh so promising on paper and during the interviews. She’d finally be able to be the leader she’d wanted when she was a young creative. To build a workplace she could be proud of with an innovative and supportive culture.
Unfortunately, it hasn’t panned out that way.
Instead, my friend describes it as a Burton-esque parody. She’s surrounded by scarcity and a lot of “you gotta want it” cultural rhetoric to justify haphazard and contradictory decision-making. She’s urged to “act like a leader”. This means ignoring challenges, promoting busy work, and focussing on presenteeism. Working from home “sends the wrong message.” Meetings are the only oasis from the stress of disorganisation and chaos. So much so, they no longer drive the project forward and provide a place to pretend things aren’t crumbling.
Together they huddle, hurtling towards an unreachable deadline, fuelled by overtime, blame, and she’s hating every minute.
“The people are lovely,” she tells me, “I hate seeing what it’s doing to them.”
Even though she’s bloody good at her own job, and gets told continuously she’s “our saving grace”, she still feels powerless. The leadership structure is such it means she can’t make a change.
She’s tried to help, making suggestion after suggestion. Younger workers look up to her, and she feels a sense of duty and a growing sense of guilty shame.
Even her desire to create something wonderful has waned.
“I’ve got my kids to think about,” she says, almost in apology, as she counts down the days.
The scariest part? Her experience is one of four similar conversations I’ve had with freelancers in the last six weeks.
She’s far from alone in this story.
Image: dawn photo of the sun rising at Windang beach.
We forgot to notice work has changed
The approach might be the same, but work isn’t what it used to be. How can it be?
Very few organisations (or people for that matter) have unpacked the trauma of the last five years of major workplace disruption via natural disasters, the pandemic, and lockdowns. We refuse to acknowledge the recession, let alone what it’s like to live and work during late-stage capitalism. Inflation is yet another kick in the guts. And we are ill-prepared for the rate that technology is evolving, or that marketing and social media are devolving.
People, let alone organisations, aren’t equipped to deal with this level of uncertainty.
Everything – and everyone – is changing.
Meanwhile, the workers, made up from the dreamers, the doers, the people who do the job but don’t really want to make it their life’s work, the workaholics, the perfectionists, the slackers, the careerists, the bullies, and the bullied; each share a common problem- this is not the way work is meant to be.
We fell in love with work only to have work stay utterly indifferent, even a little malicious, in its dealings.
Problems beget problems, and levelling up just unlocks even more levels.
There’s only so much ducking you can do when work keeps throwing lemons.
Am I saying work is doomed? No.
Am I saying we’re too exhausted to recover? I, the bobble-headed optimist, don’t believe that either.
But we’re definitely overdue admitting there is a problem. And some good old fashioned reflection, relief, and action planning.
The work we knew is gone. Ironically, we have to rework what it means to be working.
While we’ve been teetering on the edge of varying degrees of earth-shattering calamity, our relationship with work stopped meaning what it used to.
I’ve seen this before in my work with death literacy and disability. There’s a change in the landscape of thinking. You cannot unknow what you now know about life’s meaning.
There is acceptance, too, that you will never get back pre-crisis you. You have to integrate this new version of you. Relearn a shed load of stuff.
And roll with it anew.
That’s a lot to contend with. But if we’re already having our asses handed to us, it also begs the question, what have we got to lose?
Questions to ask yourself:
· Have you unpacked what your organisation experienced with the natural disasters, pandemic, lockdowns, forced remote work, or inflation yet? Or modified what you’re doing to withstand change like that?
· Are you making choices to get by, or because you see the purpose behind those decisions?
· Are you telling yourself stuff like, “it will go back to normal, eventually?” What is that holding you back from doing?
· Are you leaning on workers and/or asking them to work a certain way out of habit?
· Are you managing worker frustration, or are you creating it as a manager?
· Are you embracing what workers need or are you stuck in resistance mode?
I want my friend (and the many other freelancers I know) to not fear your workplaces and to feel excited about working for you. And to have that initial excitement become validated so they can continue to be inspired to work for you.
Let’s admit our fascination and frustrations with concepts like quiet quitting, slow productivity, working from home, parallel jobs, the gig economy, freelancing, and workplace flexibility are indicators our relationship with work is begging for change. Instead of leaning heavily on out-of-date playbooks, let’s embrace change.
If you want to see how you can make that happen, reach out to me. I want to work out with organisations that want to zoom out, use a little compassionate enquiry, and facilitate a change to work better with freelancers and contractors (and later, other employees) to build a culture we all need.
I’m experimenting with building a model – and I need organisations brave enough to experiment with me.
I read this article with this morning's coffee. 2023 was the year I gave up on a few things ... trying to be a full-time freelancer. Trying to made my herb'n'spice business full-time. And contracting.
I went back to a full-time, permanent job. It took me six months to find, because I wouldn't compromise on the things I needed to maintain my own mental health; primary is what's now called "a flexible workplace", but was just called "telecommuting" before 2020.
Workplaces are already pushing back on flexibility, and it's one reason why I gave up on the contracting I'd been doing since 2016. The micromanaging bullies of the workplace are re-asserting their power to make employees' lives a misery in person.
I did finally find the perfect role, at an organisation I've been wanting to work in for most of my life, in a "geographically-dispersed" team that means I can work from home for weeks on end if I so choose.
It's taken another 6 months for what I'm calling a "mild PTSD" from the constant hustle and lack of security in most of the roles I've been in since ... hmmmm. Most of my working life, if I'm to be honest. There's been a few positions where I've been in a tight-knit team where being constantly judged and kept on-edge weren't the norm, but they have themselves been the exception.
And you don't realise just how stressful they are until you get into a role where you can unwind and pace properly. Where contact from one's manager is no longer cause for the guilty/worried jump ... what have I done wrong now? What do I need to fix? What horrible change is coming down the line this time? Who's complaining?
I still don't quite know how to handle the fact my manager is _mentoring_ me, helping me get to a future envisaged position. The concept I might still be in this job in a few years' time is itself astonishing.
What I do know is this ... gentleness, I guess? ... should be the norm. No-one should have to jump nervously or in intense irritation when an email from someone higher up the hierarchy turns up. One _should_ be able to rely on one's peers to provide support and helpful feedback on content.
Into all these Feelings dropped this Guardian article, and it seemed to dovetail. Even with small things such as my wardrobe updates, which definitely lean toward soft, quiet fabrics; ones that are both comfortable to sit and work in, AND look so neat and tidy that they absolutely are workwear. Even into my newly-peri-menopausal assertiveness that prioritises my own comfort - and if that means I run a heater in the middle of summer because it's actually quite chilly, and I wear long sleeves and leggings and fur-lined boots for the same reason - then so be it.
https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/article/2024/jul/21/i-never-realised-how-much-freedom-and-comfort-softness-could-bring
Comfort and empathy in all things ... even the workplace. It can be done. But it's still a fight. Sigh.