Evolving your relationship to work

For years I described myself as a "work hard play hard" person. I described myself this way as far back as my undergraduate days at Vanderbilt. (This phrase was all the rage back then; I don't hear it as much anymore, but then again, I think I’ve aged out of the range where it's acceptable to say you "play hard".)

The high-level point of saying that you were a "work hard play hard" person was that you were all-in on whatever you were doing. But the pandemic is teaching us that this phrase, and phrases like it, hard-coded troubling habits in a generation of workers.

For some, the phrase served as an excuse to work or party a little harder than was probably acceptable, which is its own problem for another time. For others it was code for a fused community: "my work and personal lives have blended together".

In college, this made sense. Your classmates (essentially your college coworkers) comprise a sizable chunk of your cohort. In the early years of your career, it's similarly inescapable; many young professionals move to new cities or states, or start new experiences - your coworkers may represent one of the few or only social outlets available.

I was one of these people. Heck, I still am one of those people. I enjoy hanging out with my coworkers. For a long time, many of my good, dear friends came from my place of work. But often, as they changed jobs, our friendships cooled; we didn't care any less for each other…but when one person departs the main source of the connection, it makes sense that the relationship could lose tightness.

This has left the communities in my personal life with incredible impermanence. In many (but not all) cases, my dear close friends turn over every 2-4 years. I hear similar comments from others. The turnover usually times to coworkers leaving the job or prioritizing the communities they made for themselves, like, a family.

About family: earlier in my career I often cited another misguided trope about my colleagues being like family. This was a deeper level of code, for lack of community-building skills or interest: "my workplace will always give me a ready-made community, and I either don't plan on building another one, or I don't know how."

Looking at a future of remote or hybrid work, I don't think this option will exist like it has for an entire generation of workers who have gradually extended the working day to consume more meals and more personal time.

Even when, and if, we return to many colleagues going to an office, what remains of that formerly ready-made community? Of the colleagues who used to form the lunch crew, or who stick around to grab a drink after work, how many now live far from the office, only going in 2-3 days a week and leave at 4:30 to head back to the suburbs? How many others have become remote-only colleagues will you rarely see? To be clear, I 100% support the shift to remote and hybrid work. I'm also not here to predict the end of grabbing a drink with colleagues.

While we don't yet know exactly what "the office" will look like in the future, the era of the workplace providing a ready-made social community has likely ended. Furthermore, "working hard" tropes - the camaraderie-building, reputation-burnishing, culture-setting ones, of grinding late hours in the office - lose their power once the concept morphs into working for 14 hours alone at your kitchen table wearing the same clothes from last night's sleep.

To help overcome that soul-sucking existence, we've heard umpteen experts preach the importance of boundaries when home blends with work. It helps avoid burnout; it reminds us to get up, shower, eat, change clothes, go outside, yadda yadda. But having boundaries means putting down work; boundaries mean nothing if workers don't have something else interesting to fill their time.

An entire generation of workers have little to no experience in filling their time with non-work things. Their personality, their sense of worth, how they spend their time - they're all wrapped in work. The non-work version of their personality remains underdeveloped. Which gets us into the deepest layer of coding in a generation of men, a lack of identity outside of work: their work and workplace are their identity.

My concern is for the legion of Millennial and Gen X men whose entire sense of identity, community and aspiration comes from work, work culture and work as a place. They have few skills in creating identity, community and aspiration outside the office. These men might feel incredibly lonely and directionless on what to do about it.

These men need to evolve their relationships with work. I have deep concerns for this cohort of men. I am one of those men.

(to be clear, this certainly happens to women as well, and I don't mean to exclude. I have some theories on why this happens to men specifically that I'm about to get into.)

The pandemic has laid bare the hard-coding in a generation of men that hold them back from a balanced, fulfilling life that blends success at work with a fully-developed sense of self. For these men, currently feeling lost, the truth is: they've been lied to about the true nature of their power and sovereignty.

This lie descends directly from the "lone tough guy" idea of the manliness, the idea that self-understanding and genuine connection to a community somehow makes you less sovereign, worthy and independent. The opposite is true: your sovereignty comes from the harnessing of your professional and personal power, which you cultivate from deeply knowing, exploring and developing yourself.

The toxic story that shames men out of personal development (admitting you're not perfect as you are right now) and authentic community (accepting, or even asking, for love and care from others) emanates from the stories of "real men" not being "vulnerable" - and creating a generation of men having little to no understanding who they are, what they care about, or what they want. But without these two essential components, a potent set of aspirations will forever remain out of reach.

My guys: you are being sold a cheap, neutered form of power. And I understand why it's so captivating: it tells you that you don't need to understand your emotions. Understanding your emotions - the atoms of what make you, you - is the essential starting place of your true power and sovereignty, the roots from which your personal power tree will grow, and which can lead you to some high-reaching, long-lasting aspirations.

I drew this crude tree to show how this works (and to get around copyright issues). Here’s how it works.

Everything starts at your identity, which forms your ability to plant your own two feet on the ground and be a whole, secure man.

When you're not in a work context, who are you? What are your values? What do you think and feel, and why? What fulfills you? Why do you have the hobbies you have? (or if you don't have hobbies, what hobbies do you want to have, and why?) What do you care about? And what are the things you've been doing, but actually don't care much about at all?

Start small. This process will take time. You'll face questions and thoughts that you may have neglected for some time. Don't do this alone, and if you have no one you’re comfortable doing this with, find a coach! Invest in yourself! It's a fantastic way to kick-start your community support system.

As you begin to deepen your own sense of self, embark on intentional community building. I wrote about the importance of intentional community building back when "post pandemic" seemed imminent. While the mechanics of it will need to be revisited, the point remains: a generation of office workers need to unlearn stories of invincibility, guilt, shame, unworthiness, and more, and thanks to a year's worth of communities going online, we're in a relative boom period of virtual community availability.

It's going to be awkward and weird to make friends, even virtual friends. For many older Millennials and Gen X men, they carry awkwardness into the concept of adult men seeking friendship from other adult men outside of a work context, where so much context, status, and respect are provided, and the shared connection (the job) can make someone whose life outside of work is empty and colorless, seem fascinating and captivating. You can now see that these men lack an identity. You won't have that problem again.

A deeply rooted sense of identity and a strong, robust community give you foundation to aspire, which makes attainable a potent set of far-reaching objectives. What kind of man do you want to be? What do you want your community to say and think about you after you're gone? If your future self judges your present self, what do you want them to say?

IMPORTANT NOTE. The person you want to be and "what you want to accomplish" are not the same thing. What you want to do or achieve is ambition. (h/t Adam Grant on Twitter) These two can and should coexist, but they are not interchangeable. In many, many cases, the ends of ambition offer fleeting life value; conversely, in many cases, aspirations last a long time, and their impact almost always transcends you.

As your identity provides your key motivations, you now have a richer understanding of how you want those motivations to manifest - and you will likely find that you dream bigger as a result. "Until aspirants can fully explain their motivations, they often understate their aims."

You’re now filling your life with new beliefs, communities, and hopes for the future, that enrich and empower you in new ways. You'll need your workplace to fill those needs even less. You now also have things you want to do that don't involve work. This is the process of evolving your relationship with work. You're reducing your dependence on your work to provide 100% of your identity, community and future. It is part of you; not all of you.

This process will not start or end quickly. Your work will also constantly attempt to renegotiate the relationship (or even undo your efforts). You won't win the negotiation 100% of the time. That's okay - don't get down on yourself or feel guilty about it - but if you find yourself on the losing end of that negotiation too often, it may be a sign that you either should revisit your personal foundations, evolve your work situation, or both.

The immediate future for this generation of office workers will not be easy. Lonely; exhausting; confusing; difficult. The hardest part, however, is starting. Starting means admitting your vulnerability - that your current way of living and engaging with the world renders you half-whole, underpowered, and meh. It's a different kind of "hard work," one that adds rich, soulful personal power that amplifies your capabilities. It's worth it.