The master we serve
How Hustle Culture Redefined Rest
On a hike this week I was struck with a realization. Even standing at the edge of a breathtaking vista, I can’t quiet the noise in my mind. I should be awestruck by the beauty before me, but instead, I’m running calculations: How much does my life cost to maintain? How long can I sustain this job drought? Every breath feels like it has a dollar sign attached to it.
This is the legacy of hustle culture. It doesn’t just consume our time. It rewires how we think about it. Every moment is measured against its value in dollars and cents.
When I was younger, I thought hustle was a badge of honor. I hustled in college to pay my tuition, working multiple jobs and scraping by. I hustled after graduation, taking the first job I could find just to start chipping away at my loans. At 23, when I was laid off for the first time, I hustled to find a new job within 30 days. I’ve been hustling ever since.
I spent my 20s with my nose to the grindstone, working, learning, striving. Eventually, I made enough money to create a financial cushion, to feel some sense of safety. And for a while, I thought I had escaped the survival mindset.
At 30, I survived something bigger: cancer. For a brief time, it felt like my world expanded. I made a list of things I wanted to do: see the northern lights from Northern Scotland, travel to France to stand in awe of Gothic cathedrals, and build something meaningful from my experience with cancer.
I volunteered at UPenn’s cancer center, counseling patients like me. When I moved to San Diego, I tried to pitch a patient advocacy program to local hospitals and even reached out to the Lance Armstrong Foundation for help. None of it stuck. Fear crept back in: “You need a job. You need to survive.” And so I shelved my dreams and went back to the treadmill.
But here I am, over 50, realizing I’ve spent my entire life serving a master: the fear of not having enough. This fear is the essence of hustle culture. It’s what drives us to measure every moment by its monetary worth, making even rest feel like a risk. This fear has been the silent driver behind so many decisions, a force so pervasive that it’s shaped how I view time, rest, and success.
And I’m not alone. How many of us live this way, walking a thin edge, afraid that one wrong move could send us spiraling into homelessness or bankruptcy? How many of us have turned rest into guilt and dreams into luxuries?
Hustle culture has taught us that our worth is tied to our productivity and that this constant whisper of “You should be doing more” reinforces a cycle of survival. It’s a cycle that keeps us moving, working, and fearing what happens if we stop, robbing us of the chance to pursue those dreams and opportunities we set aside for “later.” It’s a cycle that keeps us moving, working, and fearing what happens if we stop. It convinces us that our productivity and that time is something to be spent, not cherished. That there is some total being calculated and if you rest, if you take your eyes off the career or the financial goals, you are losing.
But what’s the cost of living this way? For me, it’s missed opportunities. It’s a life measured in survival, not in living.
As leaders, we often perpetuate this cycle in our workplaces. We reward overwork. We praise hustle. We treat rest and reflection as indulgences instead of necessities. And in doing so, we teach our teams to serve the same master of fear and scarcity. But what would it look like to lead differently?
Breaking Free
It starts with recognizing the trap. Hustle culture isn’t about thriving; it’s about surviving. It keeps us tethered to fear, convincing us that we’ll never be enough or have enough unless we’re constantly moving.
As leaders, we have the power to challenge these norms and help break free from the cycle of serving fear. My own journey has shown me how deeply ingrained this mindset can be, but it has also taught me that leadership is an opportunity to rewrite the script. By prioritizing rest, purpose, and impact over constant productivity, we can model a new way forward for ourselves and our teams. Leadership offers an opportunity to redefine not just our workplaces, but our relationship with time, productivity, and purpose.
Redefine success. Shift the focus from hours worked to impact made. Reward creativity, collaboration, and innovation, not just output.
Normalize rest. Encourage time off and model it yourself. Show your team that rest isn’t weakness; it’s fuel.
Foster purpose. Help your team connect their work to something bigger than survival. Purpose inspires; fear paralyzes.
On a personal level, breaking free requires unlearning decades of conditioning. It means letting go of the idea that every moment needs to be monetized or justified. It means daring to dream again—not as a luxury, but as a birthright.
I’m still learning how to live this way. It’s not easy to untangle yourself from the master you’ve served your entire life. But I’m starting to believe that life isn’t meant to feel like survival. It’s meant to feel like living.
As I stand on this mountaintop, I remind myself: the vista is free. The air is free. And maybe, just maybe, time can be mine again, free from the fear I’ve served for so long. Breaking free from that master feels impossible some days, but standing here, I can see a glimpse of what’s possible: a life measured by living, not surviving.
What would your life look like if you stopped serving fear?