Usually this is the point in the year when everyone finally admits that their New Year’s Resolutions were terrible mistakes. Run three times a week? Quit Instagram cold turkey? What was January-1st-you even thinking?
But in Covid times, New Year’s Resolutions seem like a relic from another era. Most people aren’t exactly crushing goals, or even vaguely thriving. Most of us are barely keeping it together, each individual stress exacerbated by the stress of feeling like we’re failing at everything, all the time. …
Spending an extended amount of time on the internet can feel like being in a bad relationship: You know it would be healthier to call it quits, but still, you can feel yourself being sucked in. And the longer you stay, the harder it becomes to recognize yourself.
Coming off a long, grueling election week in a long, grueling year, that feels truer now than it’s ever been: Our personas online, especially on social media, are often far from the people we want to be IRL. We pick political fights with relatives in the comments of a cousin’s Facebook post…
Early in my career, I got a job offer so good, I thought it was a mistake. The work was interesting, my boss was awesome, and best of all, it paid more than I’d ever earned in my minimum wage life. On the way home from the interview, I called my mother with the good news. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe you shouldn’t risk what you already have. We’re lucky to have any job.” I was deflated. I sighed and stopped mentally shopping for all the new stuff I’d buy with my upgraded salary — namely, I was looking…
I’ve always had some version of a bucket list — road trips I wanted to take, skills I wanted to master, professional achievements to hit. With life on uneasy pause early in the pandemic, though, there wasn’t much I could do to make progress toward a lot of those someday goals. I could only stew over the things I wasn’t doing.
Then I realized: The stewing wasn’t anything new. The bucket list wasn’t inspiring; it was draining.
It had always been draining.
“It’ll get better,” my husband says as I review our budget, which has become tighter and tighter during the pandemic. “We just have to make it over this hump.”
But what is the hump exactly? And when does a hump become so large that “hump” is no longer the appropriate geographical designation?
At first, the hump was April. Then it was the summer. Now the hump is 2020, and probably most of 2021, too. The hump has flattened into the plateau. We’re in the eternal now, as Kelli Korducki put it in Forge — with the future so up in…
The only bosses you hear about right now are the charismatic bullies. Earlier this month, former employees of The Ellen Show accused Ellen DeGeneres of creating an abusive work environment. In June, Bon Appetit editor-in-chief Adam Rapoport resigned after a photo surfaced of him in brownface, prompting the magazine’s staff to publish an apology for a “toxic, top-down culture” of racism. This past December, Steph Korey, CEO of the luggage startup Away, stepped down amid reports of what the Verge described as “culture of intimidation and constant surveillance.”
The problem that Kenny Trinh was using self-help to solve was his shyness. The bigger problem was what it turned him into.
Trinh was a self-described “meek and shy” office worker who wanted to become a self-assured CEO type. “I wanted to be the smart, confident person in the room,” Trinh says, but “I was lacking in social skills and I didn’t believe in myself.” Looking for a transformation, he turned to self-help, reading a library of books on leadership and self-esteem. “I read them as if my life depended on it,” he says.
In a way, watching self-help go mainstream over the past several years — as buzzwords like self-care, mindfulness, and productivity exploded in popularity — felt like my own hipster moment: something I liked before it was cool. I’ve been reading self-help literature since I was a kid, when I first stumbled on my stepdad’s collection of Zig Ziglar and Tony Robbins books.
Even at an age way below those books’ target audience, I was drawn to their optimism, the hopeful message they contained: If I wanted to live a rich, powerful, happy life, I could do it. As a kid…
A few months ago, the day before I was supposed to interview a productivity expert for a story, I realized he had never confirmed the time. I fired off an email and then spent a couple stressful hours waiting for him to reply, scrambling to move around my calendar and reschedule other interviews so I could stay flexible for this one.
The next day, minutes before our interview, he finally emailed me back, telling me he could do it now, if I had time. I scrambled to move things around to accommodate him.
I’m watching the weather on the local news.The meteorologist, from the earth-toned comfort of his home office, tells me to expect rain tomorrow. I can see out his window, where it looks like his neighbors are taking a casual stroll along the sidewalk. Briefly, his tablet stops working, and he sheepishly apologizes to me and everyone else who’s watching him.
I can empathize: I’m not on TV, but over the past couple months, I’ve subjected my coworkers to plenty of snafus: tech issues, background noise, views of the messy corners of my home. With so much of the world working…
Kristin Wong is a freelance writer and journalist. She‘s written for the New York Times, The Cut, and Refinery29.