La oportunidad silenciosa

There are two topics on the table that dominate articles, podcasts, and social media posts these days. Two seemingly unrelated topics that couldn't be more connected.

On one hand, it seems we're finally starting to talk about mental health without shame, without fear of judgment, almost with the same naturalness we bring to talking about physical health. On the other, in the Anglo-Saxon world, a concept as controversial as it is obvious has begun to take hold: "quiet quitting."

If you've been lucky enough to dodge the flood of posts on this topic, here's my summary: there's a movement in the United States, championed by various influencers, that calls on working people to do what they were hired to do and nothing more. How wild, right? They call "quiet quitting" what should be obvious: calibrating your commitment at work, setting boundaries to balance your life, and having time for other things. But there's something that gets to me. Something that has to do with my personal experience, shaped by the bias that comes with being part of an ambitious, thriving sector—though I hope it's useful nonetheless.

I think there's a risk of missing a precious opportunity to change what work means in our lives.

We live in a work-centric society that tries to define us by what we're capable of producing. Think about it: how long does it take you to ask "what do you do?" when you meet someone? I'd bet not long.

This often means work becomes synonymous with security, identity, recognition, and a feeling too close to happiness. If work is going well, everything else is manageable. Like a balm that soothes all our ills. A balm that in large doses becomes a dangerous poison.

When we link our wellbeing to a single external thing—work in this case—mental health problems are guaranteed. Faced with this situation, the obvious reaction is to think we need to set limits. Corner work where it belongs and make sure it doesn't cross the boundaries we draw. Quiet quitting.

The need to redefine

Of course, I have no intention of going against this approach. I would like to add a second part that I consider even more important: it's not enough to set boundaries and measure our commitment at work—we have to be able to redefine what work means to us.

And here we have two options: either we resign ourselves to living in a system that forces us to work almost half our waking hours, or we try to flip the script and understand that work is a good tool for contributing to a fulfilling life (if only because of the time it takes up in our daily routine).

Personally, I lean toward the second. And I'm proud to say I share my day-to-day with people who think the same way.

For some time now, at Soluble we've pursued the idea that work should contribute to a fulfilling life. That it helps us be happy within, but above all, outside the workday. Not just in our company, but in all our clients' companies too.

Getting clear on the whys

The first thing you need to achieve something like this is to be aware of each person's personal motivations. One of the first questions in all our hiring processes is fundamental: "What motivates you to get up in the morning?"

Second is aligning those motivations with the purpose of the company you're renting your time to. Are you pursuing similar objectives? Or at least compatible ones. If not, it's time to find a new job.

And from the company's perspective, the reading isn't much different. When a company is clear about why and what it exists for, it's much easier to have an aligned team that understands what they're contributing to and carries out their tasks effectively. The fact that work isn't the most important thing in our team members' lives only brings good things—for them and for the business.

Hopefully these times of uncertainty we're living through will drive more organizations to invest in brand strategy to understand why and what they exist for. Hopefully more people will go to therapy to discover how they want to live. Hopefully we can seize this quiet opportunity.