In the two years I’ve been writing about Americans’ changing relationship to work, there’s one theme that’s come up over and over again: loyalty. Whether my stories are about quiet quitting, or job-hopping, or leveraging a job offer from a competitor to force your boss to give you a raise, readers seem to divide into two groups. On one side are the bosses and tenured employees, the boomers and Gen Xers. Kids these days, they gripe. Do they have no loyalty? On the other side are the younger rank-and-file employees, the millennials and Gen Zers, who feel equally aggrieved. Why should I be loyal to my company when my company isn’t loyal to me?
I knew it would happen again the other month, when I was reporting on white-collar workers who secretly juggle multiple full-time jobs. Overemployment, as the phenomenon is known, violates society’s implicit norms of loyalty to one’s employer more flagrantly than anything else I’ve encountered. But when I asked these overemployed professionals whether they felt bad that they were essentially cheating on their bosses, they were unapologetic. “My parents told me, ‘Don’t switch companies, grow in one company, be loyal to one company, and they’ll be loyal to you,’” one guy told me. “That may have been true in their days, but it definitely isn’t today anymore.”
I lay this at the feet of financialization. Companies decided that their _share_holders were the only _stake_holders that mattered. If all you care about is “line go up” it’s much easier to treat employees as fungible. But you can’t “line go up” forever: the planet’s resources are finite. One of those resources is goodwill and “line go up” has been burning it for fifty years.
Yes, at some point the goal should be to simply “keep going” rather than to always “keep going up”.