The rise of “what’s the point?-ism”  at work

By Jennifer Moss, keynote presenter at the 2025 CPA Assist Virtual Wellness Conference

Over the years, my conversations with people from various walks of life—from Uber drivers and retail workers to nurses, machinists, CEOs, policy makers, and politicians—have all revealed a common thread. A singular question has surfaced repeatedly: “Why am I here?”

In my interviews, many people described feelings of detachment, a loss of effectiveness, and ennui. People weren’t less ambitious or lazy, they were uninspired. For those who’d resigned and then felt more purposeful and motivated, most shared that they’d left for more meaningful and challenging work. It makes sense. In times like this—chaotic, uncertain, and turbulent—it’s harder to be happy.

Take Tim, the former CEO of a 100-year-old company who came up to me after one of my talks. He’d recently given his notice after 23 years at the company and only two years into his role as CEO—a longtime dream. He’d started his career as an apprentice and then moved up the ranks. After two years of intense volatility at the helm, he was exhausted—that dream was over.

“I just told my wife a few weeks ago that I bought us one-way tickets to a spot near a beach and put a deposit on a long-term Airbnb rental,” Tim said. “I told the board that they should find someone to take my place. They were surprised by my early retirement, but they were totally caught off guard when I told them I was also leaving the board. They assumed I’d be around for at least another five years. I told them I just can’t. I want out. I’m done.”

His raw emotion struck a chord with me, echoing the all-too-familiar signs of burnout—the moral depletion, the fatigue, the sadness. He said all he’d ever wanted was this job. And now he wonders, “What was it for?”

“These last few years were a game changer,” he said. “It broke my spirit.”

Existential crises are common. Some people decide to make a career pivot or leave a bad job. Others question whether what they do has value. At multiple points in our work lives, we all ask the question “Why am I here?” But what’s different about our current situation is we all seem to be asking this question at the same time—as if we’re having a shared existential crisis.

This point might seem obvious, but the pandemic and various other events—world crises, climate change, remote work, a rethink of work-life balance—have prompted a global reevaluation of work and its meaning.

Think about it. If you’re watching entire towns get swallowed up by floods and fires, democratic norms be rolled back at breakneck speed, and/or buildings where children once played be blown apart from war, it’s hard to get inspired for a new product launch or have the mental capacity to come up with innovative solutions. It’s even harder to accept requests to stay late or work on weekends, to be told you can no longer work remotely, and to feel that the ninth Zoom meeting you attended today was worth it. Working while faced with a constant stream of existential threats, you start to ask yourself, “What is the actual point of all this?”

When I go to work and invest the precious time I have left, I’ll wonder, “Do I feel engaged? Is my work meaningful? Is my work worthwhile? Why am I here?”

Our brains will be persistent: “My priorities have changed, and this work doesn’t align with my values anymore.”

We will start to imagine what else we could be doing with our limited lifespan. Some might say, “I could be with my kids, working on projects that excite me, or retiring to be with grandkids.” Others might say, “getting more work-life balance, writing that book, or working on a beach.” Essentially “anything but this.” That’s what happens when the workforce goes through a collective existential crisis—a crisis that creates an expectation for a social contract with work that hasn’t existed at this level before.

The abrupt changes and continuous uncertainty of recent times have demanded real-time responses without the luxury of established strategies. It’s no wonder a lot of workers feel unmoored.

Despite the many attempts to create healthy, happy, and high-performing cultures, those aspirations continue to elude us. This is a problem that has become increasingly worrisome as new leaders take over old jobs, managing a workforce that feels less than enthusiastic about change.

Our work cultures have been altered irrevocably, and we need to find ways to build better ones that are more fit for the times. We’ve learned the hard way that oversimplified tactics, like bringing everyone back to the office after the long work-from-home pandemic period, don’t work. Nor does acting like nothing’s changed. Business-as-usual behaviour has created an even deeper divide between employers and employees.

If you’re a leader, you don’t need me to tell you that this new era of work has been challenging. I believe right now is the most complex and confusing time to be a leader in modern history. When we were in crisis, leaders reacted as expected: keep the company going, pivot when needed, respond urgently, and be assertive. Suddenly, the number of meetings tripled, workload became unsustainable, and we kept acting with urgency.

Somewhere in there, a call was made—perhaps unintentionally— to prioritize growth and productivity over connection. And now we’re seeing the downstream impact of that choice. Our workforce is the loneliest it’s ever been, but trying to get people to form new bonds or reignite their former network is met with indifference.

Mercer’s Global Talent Trends 2024-2025 report analyzed responses from more than 12,200 C-suite executives, leaders, and employees, and the results are startling. “Two in five workers believe that the world of work is fundamentally broken, and one in four wish they didn’t have to work at all,” says the report.

In addition, global leaders agree mental safety and purpose are required for employees to thrive.

This widespread workforce ennui is not that surprising. It’s what happens when we’re tired and bored and aimless. The urgent pace we had adopted was never going to be sustainable. What’s surprising is why anyone could think it was.

But the situation is not hopeless. We face a big challenge ahead with no easy silver-bullet fix. Silver bullets are rare, but I still see leaders trying to fix these extraordinary and complex problems with blunt instruments. I’ve repeated this theme in all my books: unlocking happiness at work isn’t simply about switching to a culture of “good vibes only.” Solving the burnout epidemic won’t happen with self-care alone, and the plan to help a workforce navigate an existential crisis can’t be built on old frameworks.

I see a path forward. It’s disruptive, yes. But once we get over that initial shock that comes from abrupt change, we’ll recognize this as a moment of real opportunity for growth and innovation. Building on the eight pillars of a great workplace culture—hope, purpose, community, compassion, freedom, openness, belonging, and recognition—is our chance to build new cultures we are eager to be a part of.

To learn more about the shift in workplace culture, register for the CPA Assist Virtual Annual Conference on December 9.