There is this notion that truly great work can only emerge from suffering and sacrifice. We even use martial language to talk about it: blood, sweat and tears. That’s a phrase from Winston Churchill’s first speech as prime minister. He was talking about the imminent threat of war. Not exactly everyday labor.
And yet, we have internalized that idea. If something comes off too easily, it might as well be worthless.
We almost seem to fetishize work. The unemployed get stigmatized as lazy and certain professions are labeled serious (e.g. hedge fund managers) while others are not even considered real work (e.g. artists). In a world dominated by a few obscenely rich men, the glorification of work — hard work — is a trick serving them well. Are you poor? Then you haven’t worked hard enough. Are you rich? Then you must have earned it through hard work.
Following through with that logic, there would be no such thing as hard work that goes unrewarded. But we quickly find counterexamples — firefighters and medics come to mind. What they do each day is exhausting, important, and literally involves blood, sweat, and tears. Yet they neither make as much money nor are they as noticeably celebrated as, say, CEOs.
This is what hard work looks like.
The idea that substantial value can only be created through hard work is a myth. It’s a tale that serves the richest by framing wealth from exploitation (or inheritance) as the fruits of their hard labor. It distorts the question of which work deserves the most respect. It also devalues everything that wasn’t achieved through hard effort.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the value of my own work lately. My jobs often come with a lot of pressure. Everything is equally important and urgent, no matter what. Many projects require several months of careful work.
But the last year or so I’ve been spending less time on client projects and more on coaching people. Those are mostly designers and developers and together we review their work and I help them with professional and personal development. When I talk to them, they have my full attention. I listen, take notes, ask questions, and moderate the conversation. Before and after each session, I take a few minutes to prepare and process.
This is, if measured in time and effort, only a relatively small amount of work. I also find it relatively easy to do, probably because I can draw from the experience I built up over twenty years. It just feels natural. However, the positive effect it can have is hard to quantify:
My manager kept telling me, ‘that shouldn’t be a big problem for you, you can do that quickly, right?’ I didn’t notice how manipulative that was. Now that I learned how to set boundaries, I feel much less stressed.
I used to be so nervous when I presented my work to clients. The tools I learned to communicate more clearly helped me so much. I am way more confident now and it became much easier for me to deal with feedback, too.
Getting responses like these makes me feel like I did … great work? Yet it feels slightly wrong since it comes off so easy for me. Can’t be worth much. Didn’t take much effort. And yes, it doesn’t pay as much, is never really finished, and produces no tangible results like my other projects. Still, it feels like the most valuable work I do.
And who knows — it might even make me a happier person.
