Corporate Love Songs and Other Lies

Why You Don’t Need to Love Your Job—And What Happens When You Stop Pretending You Do

Apr 16, 2025

You’ve Been Emotionally Catfished by Capitalism

Let’s just say it out loud:
Your job is not your calling.
Your manager is not your mentor.
And your company? Not your damn family.

We’ve been duped. Emotionally manipulated. Love-bombed by LinkedIn posts and HR slogans into thinking our worth lives inside our work. That if we just “find our passion,” the burnout won’t feel like self-betrayal.

Spoiler: It still does.

The Myth of Meaningful Work™

It started innocently enough. A little motivational poster here. A startup founder TED-talking about “doing what you love” there. Then came the rebrands: jobs became “journeys,” roles became “callings,” coworkers became “your tribe.”

Next thing you know, you’re weeping in your car over a slide deck.

We started chasing meaning, and somewhere along the way, we stopped asking if the work itself was any good. Was it effective? Smart? Ethical? Sustainable? Or were we just too emotionally entangled to notice the cracks?

Most jobs aren’t fulfilling. They’re barely coherent. But we’re told to love them anyway. To “bring our whole selves” to a place that doesn’t know what to do with half of us.

The Devotion Spiral

You start off wanting to do good work. Then someone praises your “passion,” and suddenly you’re on every new project. You’re “trusted.” You’re “critical.” You’re “a team player.”

Translation: You’re being used. And you like it—because it makes you feel needed.

But that glow doesn’t last. You’re praised until you push back. Until you ask for help. Until you suggest something that sounds a little too much like a boundary.

Then the love dries up, and all that’s left is the work. And no one thanks you for that.

This is not loyalty.
This is professional gaslighting.
And it’s the rule, not the exception.

Work Is Not a Family. It’s a Lease.

They said, “we’re all in this together.”
They said, “we care about you.”
And then?

They reorged.
They cut budgets.
They cut you.

Love doesn’t have a layoff clause.

Let’s be clear: employment is a rental agreement. You lease your time and energy to an organization. They pay you for it. That’s the contract. That’s the extent of the relationship.

Everything else—passion, loyalty, “fit”—is branding.

And like all branding, it’s designed to sell you something. In this case? Exploitation.

If your company says “we’re a family,” ask who’s playing Mom, who’s Dad—and who gets grounded when the numbers don’t land.

Because in most corporate families, love is conditional.
And the favorite child is always revenue.

Love Is the Lie That Keeps You Working

The greatest trick capitalism ever pulled was convincing us that work was supposed to make us happy.
That devotion would be rewarded.
That burnout was proof you were doing it right.

We don’t need better engagement scores.
We need a collective breakup.

The Weaponization of Passion

When a job posting says “must be passionate,” what it really means is:

Must be willing to tolerate nonsense with a smile.
Must accept underpayment as noble sacrifice.
Must mistake chaos for creativity and overwork for opportunity.

Passion becomes a muzzle.

You’re not allowed to question decisions. You’re “not a team player.” You’re “negative.” You’re “burnt out”—but that’s your problem, not a symptom of systemic dysfunction.

Newsflash: people aren’t burning out because they care too much.
They’re burning out because they’re being asked to care about the wrong things.

Disengagement Isn’t Apathy. It’s Clarity.

When people stop going above and beyond, it’s not laziness—it’s grief.

It’s the moment they realize:

The effort they gave was never going to be enough.
The raise wasn’t coming.
The promotion was a myth.
“Next quarter” is a moving target they’ll never hit.

Disengagement is your soul clocking out before you do.

And instead of listening, companies panic.
They launch another survey.
Another reorg.
Another breakfast burrito day.

As if vibes can fix structural rot.

The Danger of Waking Up

If you stop pretending, you start asking dangerous questions:

Why is “high performance” never followed by meaningful reward?
Why are the worst managers always “too valuable” to remove?
Why does every new hire start strong—and burn out fast?

These aren’t quirks.
They’re design features.

The system isn’t broken.
It’s working exactly as intended—to extract the most from the most devoted for the least amount of accountability.

The second you realize that?

You stop romanticizing your job.
You stop chasing validation.
And you start demanding better.

Which, of course, makes you a threat.

Work Is Not Your Soulmate

Here’s the truth, plain and unpolished:

You don’t owe your job your passion.
You don’t owe your boss your silence.
You don’t owe your company your identity.

Your job is not your purpose. It’s a means to an end.

And if it’s not serving you? You are allowed to walk away.
No shame.
No guilt.
No love lost.

Because love doesn’t belong in a system that will replace you in a week, forget you in a month, and repurpose your high-performing slide deck with your name quietly deleted.

Before You Give Your Job Your Soul, Ask Yourself…

For Employees (You, Me, The Soul-Weary Middle):

Would I still do this job if I didn’t need the validation?
Is my “extra effort” actually moving me forward—or just making me easier to use?
When was the last time this job invested in me (skills, growth, time)—without me asking?
Do I feel safe telling the truth here?
Would I recommend this place to someone I respect?

If the answers make your stomach clench—don’t numb it. Name it. And make a plan that doesn’t involve just “toughing it out.”

For Leaders:

Am I asking for passion when I should be providing clarity?
Am I rewarding performance—or just proximity and politeness?
Who’s burning out? Who’s quietly leaving? Why?
If my top performer quit tomorrow, would I be shocked—or ashamed?
What parts of this culture need to be broken?

If you love your people, prove it with action—not just stickers and sentiment.