I gave a company 8 years of my life.
They gave me a 30-minute exit interview.
I'd spent my entire 20s climbing that ladder. Staying late. Working weekends. Answering emails at 11pm like it made me a hero.
I thought loyalty meant something. I thought if I gave them everything, they'd protect me.
They didn't.
When the restructure came, I was just a line item on a spreadsheet. A cost to be cut. A decade of dedication reduced to a number some executive needed to hit for their quarterly report.
I remember sitting in my car after that final meeting. Looking at the building I'd walked into thousands of times. Realizing I'd traded the best years of my life for something that could disappear in an afternoon.
The company moved on immediately. They had my replacement lined up before I'd even cleaned out my desk.
Meanwhile my wife was at home. My family was waiting. The people who actually needed me had been getting my leftovers for years. The tired version. The stressed version. The version that was always thinking about work even when I wasn't there.
I had it completely backwards.
I was giving my best energy to people who saw me as replaceable. And giving my scraps to the people who saw me as irreplaceable.
Most people learn this lesson too late. They sacrifice their health, their relationships, their presence with their kids. All for a company that will post their job listing before the funeral flowers wilt.
I'm not saying don't work hard. Work hard. Do excellent work. Take pride in what you do.
But when the clock hits your finish time, leave. Go home. Be present with the people who will actually remember your name in 50 years.
Your company will survive without you answering that email tonight. Your kids won't get that evening back.
I work with people now who are still mentally chained to their corporate jobs even after they've left. The conditioning runs deep. They feel guilty taking breaks. They feel lazy if they're not constantly producing.
It took me years to deprogram that mindset.
Your employer is not your family. Your colleagues are not your friends. The mission statement on the wall is not your purpose.
Do your job. Do it well. Then go live the life that actually matters.
Who taught you that overworking was something to be proud of?
They gave me a 30-minute exit interview.
I'd spent my entire 20s climbing that ladder. Staying late. Working weekends. Answering emails at 11pm like it made me a hero.
I thought loyalty meant something. I thought if I gave them everything, they'd protect me.
They didn't.
When the restructure came, I was just a line item on a spreadsheet. A cost to be cut. A decade of dedication reduced to a number some executive needed to hit for their quarterly report.
I remember sitting in my car after that final meeting. Looking at the building I'd walked into thousands of times. Realizing I'd traded the best years of my life for something that could disappear in an afternoon.
The company moved on immediately. They had my replacement lined up before I'd even cleaned out my desk.
Meanwhile my wife was at home. My family was waiting. The people who actually needed me had been getting my leftovers for years. The tired version. The stressed version. The version that was always thinking about work even when I wasn't there.
I had it completely backwards.
I was giving my best energy to people who saw me as replaceable. And giving my scraps to the people who saw me as irreplaceable.
Most people learn this lesson too late. They sacrifice their health, their relationships, their presence with their kids. All for a company that will post their job listing before the funeral flowers wilt.
I'm not saying don't work hard. Work hard. Do excellent work. Take pride in what you do.
But when the clock hits your finish time, leave. Go home. Be present with the people who will actually remember your name in 50 years.
Your company will survive without you answering that email tonight. Your kids won't get that evening back.
I work with people now who are still mentally chained to their corporate jobs even after they've left. The conditioning runs deep. They feel guilty taking breaks. They feel lazy if they're not constantly producing.
It took me years to deprogram that mindset.
Your employer is not your family. Your colleagues are not your friends. The mission statement on the wall is not your purpose.
Do your job. Do it well. Then go live the life that actually matters.
Who taught you that overworking was something to be proud of?