I wasn’t feeling well.
My forehead was feverish. My knees were weak, and chills cascaded up and down my spine.
I knew the protocol. I’d need to take some Tylenol and rest. My parents would take care of me while I recovered.
Only, they wouldn’t. Not this time.
For I was a freshman in college, a thousand miles away from my home. No one was hopping on a flight to help me get back to health. I would need to take that task on myself.
As this sank in, I felt terrified.
How the heck would I take care of myself in this delicate state? And what if I couldn’t?
Fear gave way to instinct. I wasn’t going to get any better standing around in my dorm room. So, I lay down, pulled the covers over me, and dozed off.
I woke up with a clear mind, if not a clean bill of health. And with this fresh start, I was able to do what it took to recover. By the next day, I was right as rain.
This experience was transformative. I had learned how to care for myself at a point of vulnerability. And life would never be the same.
Well-being.
This term has exploded in popularity in recent years.
Getting to live another day is no longer the objective. Living in a healthy, sustained manner now is.
This thinking has helped grow lifestyle brands, expand the wellness industry, and proliferate demands for work-life balance.
All these innovations have their benefits, but they come with a dangerous assumption. Namely, that others will be our caretakers.
You see, that existential crisis I faced while I was ill in college — it’s hardly a novel one. We all yearn for TLC when we’re at our weakest. And when there’s none to be had, we can feel rattled.
Still, we persevere. Tossed into the deep end without support, we’re forced to care for ourselves. And we learn from the experience — just as I did.
But while some view this moment as a point of no return, others will yearn to recreate what was lost. They’ll look to build a caretaking ecosystem, so that they never find themselves out in the cold again.
And in doing so, they’ll set out on a road to nowhere.
The professional world looks far different today than it did generations ago.
The Internet has transformed the way we do business. Tasks that were previously handled on-site can now be done remotely. And employee turnover is the rule, not the exception.
This last development has led to a lot of hand wringing.
High turnover is a challenge for companies. While Henry Ford’s assembly line model rendered workers as interchangeable, the business world is far more complicated now. Change management is a constant headwind that business must contend with.
In a fit of frustration, some corporate leaders have yearned for the good old days, when employees would stick with a company for 40 years before retiring with a gold watch and a pension. These managers believe that the workforce was loyal back then, and they pine for a return to that stability.
Some employees share this sentiment with the C-Suite. Moving from company to company can take a heavy toll. It’s much simpler to daydream of an era when an employer would take care of you for the duration of your career. That loyalty would be much appreciated in the unpredictable modern era.
Of course, the good old days are long gone. And these desires to recreate it read like revisionist history.
The perceived stability of the bygone generation of work reflected on the era itself. Sure, the Cold War was going on. But it was much easier for companies to get a good read on the market in those days, making decisions that sidestepped turbulence along the way. Bailing on such a smooth ride would be foolish, so relatively few employees did it.
Caretaking didn’t factor into the conversation much, if at all. Companies cared about the three P’s — productivity, profitability, and potential — more than anything else. A stable workforce helped companies achieve those goals faster. But if the waters did happen to get choppy, and employees headed for the exits, companies would simply backfill the open roles.
Henry Ford’s interchangeable workers philosophy was still alive and well.
Goldilocks and the Three Bears. It’s a childhood classic.
In the fairy tale, a girl with golden hair wanders into the lair of a family of bears while they’re away. She methodically tests out everything in the house before determining what bowl of porridge to eat, and what bed to lie down on.
This step-by-step deliberation has gained wide adoption in the real world. In fact, the Goldilocks Principle is now a staple of psychology to economics.
We are all searching for just the right fit — in our business projects, in our academic exploits, and in life in general.
The Goldilocks Principle has a hand in the world of work as well. It’s what’s driven many of us to move from job to job unlike ever before.
We are looking for the right fit and balance in our professional exploits. Each twist on our journey serves as a data point — a guardrail that can help funnel us to our own nirvana.
There’s nothing wrong with any of this. But if we expect caretaking to be part of this fit and balance equation, we’re sure to be disappointed.
Employers have a more nuanced view these days than they did in the pension and gold watch ones. There’s an increased — and overdue — focus on diversity, equity, and inclusion in the working world. And such concepts as company culture and employee benefits have gone from perks to must-haves.
But make no mistake — the companies we work for are not going to serve as our caretakers. At the end of the day, it’s still all about the three P’s. And a more open relationship with employees is simply a means to an end.
It’s on us to recognize this. And it’s on us to adjust our expectations.
No one is going to unconditionally take care of us the way our parents once did. Not our employers. Not the wellness industry. Not our government. Not even our loved ones.
These people and entities will help. They’ll provide the tools to get us back to full-strength.
But it’s our responsibility to apply those tools. It’s on us to launch ourselves across the finish line.
This might not be what we desire, particularly when we’re at our most vulnerable. But it’s the hand we’re dealt.
So, let’s not fold. Let’s play our hand, and stay in the game.
Our prosperity depends on it.