Everyone Wants Out. Almost Nobody Leaves.

I met a guy last week. My age, 40s, been at his company close to 5 years. His words: he’s becoming part of the furniture.

He wants out and to do something on his own. The usual story.

Except I’ve been hearing this a lot lately. Another guy, also 40s, says he wants to quit because of elder care responsibilities. The ideas he’s pitching, though, are all service businesses that’ll eat his time whole. I didn’t say anything. But the math doesn’t add up.

And then there’s someone I spoke with recently, a CFO at a large company (she’d kill me if I named it). By any measure, she made it. Corner office, the title, the pay. And she’s phoning it in. Has been for a while. All the restructuring, the constant changes, the new priorities that replace last quarter’s new priorities. She stopped going above and beyond sometime last year. Maybe the year before. She can’t quite remember when.

Three people. Different industries, different levels, same quiet misery.

I know that misery. I spent years in it.

I’ve been independent for a while now. Fractional work, writing, building things on my own terms. And when I sat across from these people, I did feel relief. Genuine relief.

But I’d be lying if I stopped there.

Because when a client calls timeout. When a retainer doesn’t renew. When the months where the stars just don’t align stretch longer than you planned for, I would look at the corporate cage and think: at least the aircon is good.

That is truly the part nobody puts in the “I quit my job and never looked back” posts.

Now, here’s what I think is actually happening with my 3 friends.

They’re not burned out, exactly. Burnout implies you ran hard and hit a wall. These people stopped running. They’re still showing up, still collecting the salary, still attending the meetings. But something quietly switched off. The CFO isn’t lazy. The furniture guy isn’t unambitious. They’ve just outgrown the story they told themselves about what the job was supposed to mean. And they haven’t found a replacement story yet.

So they dress it up. Elder care. Company changes. Wanting something different. All true, probably. But also covers for something harder to say out loud: I don’t know what I’m doing this for anymore.

The cage doesn’t feel like a cage when you first get in. It feels like stability. Structure. A reason to show up that someone else hands you every morning, already formatted, with clear KPIs.

That part is genuinely comfortable and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.

What independence actually costs is the removal of that comfort. Every month is a negotiation with uncertainty. Some months the stars align. Some months you’re refreshing your inbox and wondering if you made a catastrophic mistake around 47 years old.

The people still inside aren’t stupid for staying. They’re paying a price. So am I. Just different prices.

Predictable misery versus unpredictable uncertainty. If you’re honest about it, most people will take the predictable version every single time. At least you know what’s coming.

I think about this whenever the temptation gets loud. Which it does and more than I’d like to admit.

The furniture guy will probably stay another 2 years. The elder care guy will probably not quit. The CFO will probably ride it out until a package comes along.

And me? I’ll probably stay independent.

Because on the days when the stars do align, no pay cheque has ever felt like that.