By Chloe Davies
It’s the string of videos which have gone viral on platforms like YouTube and Tik Tok that have sparked global debate about work/life balance post pandemic.
In one video, a young man sits in his car, speaks directly to camera and states that he will not, “work [himself] into the ground for a job that does not care about [him] as a human being.”
In another video, a young woman captures her commute to work and talks through the act of quiet quitting as “still performing your duties but no longer subscribing to the hustle culture that work has to be your life.”
There are thousands of these videos online, the ‘quiet quitting’ hashtag amassing a staggering 3.7 million views across well-known social media pages.
Quiet quitting is the act of not going above and beyond at work. It’s been described as ‘carefully coasting’ and doing only the bare minimum in order to maintain a healthy work-life balance.
I suspect this trend might be particularly relevant at this time of year as we head into the darker days of winter. In the months ahead lots of us will become tired, checked out and even burnt out.
Although something many of us can relate to, this phenomenon appears to be part of a longer trend reflecting widespread dissatisfaction with traditional work expectations.
This trend includes the growing pushback against the ‘always-on’ culture, with many increasingly rejecting the rigid 9-to-5 structure in favor of flexible, purpose-driven work.
Is this push back another generational thing?
On the surface it might appear that way. Burnt-out millennials were already thwarting the idea of traditional 9-5 prior to the Covid era; some Gen Zers seem adverse to working a second past their official hours, or as one Instagram reel put it: ‘when the vibe is off.’
Throw in the new working conditions brought about by the pandemic back in 2020, which opened up the possibility for flexible working conditions and hybrid work from home models and suddenly, the traditional full-time model (which many of us have been asked to return to) seems like a ridiculously tall order, even to those born before ‘96.
Just to be clear, I think ‘quiet quitting’ is a terrible idea.
It’s bad for employers and for the individuals who are attempting to beat the clock. It’s also incredibly costly. Employees who are not engaged or who are actively disengaged cost the world $7.8 trillion in lost productivity, according to Gallup’s State of the Global Workplace: 2022 Report. That’s equal to 11% of global GDP.
To me it signifies a kind of ‘quiet’ defeat and what we need is just the opposite: loud and noisy voices broadcasting the deleterious effects of excessive workloads and lack of time for proper rest and recreation.
Clearly the Covid-19 pandemic and subsequent lockdowns threw our lives into disarray.
For the better part of two years, our homes turned into schools, offices and makeshift gyms. The lines between home and work were blurred. Some things became easier and more enjoyable; a lot of other things became harder. Our mental health suffered, particularly that of our younger generations.
The upside though, was the change in how we worked and lived.
One of the biggest advantages was the elimination of the daily commute. On average people who worked at home during lockdowns reallocated this time towards 19 extra minutes of ‘caring’, 49 extra minutes of ‘personal time’ and 13 extra minutes of ‘work’. People who still worked at the office by contrast spent an extra 25 minutes a day working.
I think one of the reasons why the ‘quiet quitting’ trend has gone so viral is because we’re finally starting to realize and publicly acknowledge the ways in which we’ve ignored our own lives in service of our jobs — jobs we may even love — but in which we are ultimately expendable.
The lockdowns, as tough as they were, gave us a glimpse of what’s possible. More time at home with our families.
And sure, this wasn’t for everyone. For many, being stuck at home for hours on end was just as, if not more challenging than being chained to desks but it opened up a unique opportunity: the possibility for an even split, some time at working at the office and some at home.
This is what I contend most people want: flexibility. Or at the very least the option to choose how their work day is structured and organised.
If we are to have the proper time for sleep, nutrition, exercise, rest and relaxation, areas fundamental to our health and wellbeing, we must draw a more clear line between home and work – and get loud about it.
It’s worth acknowledging that employees in more vulnerable positions may need to quietly withdraw from some of their employer’s more burdensome and arduous tasks in order to protect their own mental health.
But for most workers, I think there’s a healthier and more direct approach.
As with any instigation of change it starts with having informed and earnest conversations with our colleagues and managers. We need to feel confident to voice the reality of our working lives, what’s achievable within a typical work day, and how best to utilise our time.
Of course this requires a level of bravery, particularly within cultures where it’s the norm to work a few extra hours (or more) everyday to get things done.
It’s also problematic when the manager or boss is modeling this behavior themselves. Many organisations now find themselves in the bizarre position that if not for their employees’ unpaid overtime, they could not adequately deliver their services, or even at all.
We need a noisy response for what has become a fairly ubiquitous problem. Up until this point we’ve stifled and muffled these concerns because of the pressure to ‘keep up’ and ‘keep things going’ often at an enormous personal cost.
We must reframe our understanding of ourselves: we are human beings with core needs who work, not workers with personal responsibilities outside office hours.
Happier and well taken care of people make more productive employees after all.
So if you’re currently in the process of drawing boundaries between work and home don’t be quiet about it.
These are precisely the conversations we need to keep having on social media and with our families, friends and colleagues.
Chloe is a teacher and freelance writer in Melbourne’s west.
