I will have been blogging about work, life, and cats for 20 years in a few weeks.
My journey began a day after my birthday when an ex-boyfriend wished me well and mentioned, “Hey, I started a blog. You might like it.”
I don’t recall his writing, but I remember thinking I could do it better. That’s how I feel about everything worth doing, so it’s not a knock on him. It’s an admission of my confidence and narcissism.
But over these two decades, I’ve reached a stark conclusion: I cannot fix work. It’s not a matter of the challenge being too vast or lacking the intellect for innovative solutions. Instead, the inherent structure of work—a pyramid scheme rewarding workers for obscenely enriching others—is fundamentally flawed. This system, dependent on racism, sexism, classism, and bias, disproportionately benefits those at the top.
It’s not only me. No author, consultant, academic, psychologist, or ‘business famous’ personalities can fix work despite writing books or publishing studies. We are all compensated by the individuals and systems we aim to overthrow. And, let’s be honest, some of those who want to fix work don’t want to change systems. If they did, they’d be out of work themselves.
This realization is disheartening. So, what should a former HR professional like myself do? Until this past year, I considered three paths:
- Pack it up and stop writing about work, which is tempting because rolling a Sisyphean rock up a hill is unrewarding.
- Continue writing and speaking, fully aware that everyone, including those in seemingly impartial institutions, colludes with and perpetuates the dark side of capitalism.
- Fix things at the edges while understanding that any changes I make are impermanent and exist only at the whim of people who tolerate my efforts.
So, that’s depressing.
But this year, I mapped out a slightly new plan that mixes all three options plus a twist. I’ve dialed back my efforts to fix work and embraced the notion that less is more. Churning out content on social media never changed the world. If spending hours on TikTok, Instagram, and LinkedIn fixed anything, we’d have no problems.
Then, I decided to be less hard on myself. If I roll that rock up a hill, I should accept that everybody, including me, needs money to survive. But I’ll only do the work after deliberately considering how and when it will help workers, knowing I may never see a payoff besides a paycheck in my lifetime. And I’ll be quietly influential when possible, making changes that are palatable to corporate clients but potentially provocative and inspirational to those ready to do this work independently down the road.
Finally, I reminded myself that confidence and narcissism are limiting factors to growth and development. I can only do so much, and it’s time to acknowledge that my window has mostly closed. I haven’t given up, but I’ve moved past the phase of radical upheaval. Now, I’m recognizing the challenge, accepting the necessary compromises, and hoping my influence paves the way for others in younger generations to succeed where I have fallen short.
Change is incremental—if it happens at all. Wish I knew this 20 years ago when I first opened a Blogspot.com account, but I know it today. I’m embracing a slower and more mature mindset as I enter 2024, hoping to write my book about corporate drinking while trusting that my existing body of work inspires you to contribute to improving the workplace whenever and wherever you can. I hope you can fix things before you spend two decades on it like I did!