Love And Work, But Let’s Not Get Weird About It
Lovely sentiment, Sigmund. Slightly concerning when it starts showing up in performance frameworks. Because lately, work hasn’t just been something we do. It’s something we’re expected to love.
Love your job. Love your team. Love the mission. And if you don’t? Well… what’s wrong with you?
A seductive argument
To be fair, there’s something real here. When people care about what they’re doing, they do better work. Energy matters. Attention matters. The things we’re drawn to tend to be the things we’re good at.
We’ve all had moments where work clicks—where time moves faster, ideas come easier, and effort doesn’t feel quite so effortful. That’s not fluff. That’s useful data.
It makes sense that we’d want more of that. It makes sense that leaders would look at that and think: How do we scale this? And that’s where things start to wobble.
The slippery slope
The moment love becomes something we try to design into work, it starts to shift. What was once a personal, internal experience becomes something a little more public. A little more expected.
We move from “What do you love?” to something closer to “Are you demonstrating enough love?” And it can show up in subtle ways.
“Bring your whole self to work,” but ideally, the productive, positive parts.
“Do what you love,” as long as it aligns with what we need done.
“Find your passion,” and please apply it to this quarterly target.
None of this is malicious. It’s often well-intentioned. But it nudges love out of the realm of something human and into something… useful. Something measurable. Something we start to optimise. And that’s when it gets a bit weird.
What gets lost
When love becomes part of the expectation, a few quiet things start to happen. Boundaries blur. If you love your work, when do you stop? When does effort become overextension?
It’s harder to step back from something you’ve been told you should feel deeply about. Guilt creeps in. If you don’t love your job—or even parts of it—does that mean you’re in the wrong role? Not trying hard enough? Missing something everyone else seems to have?
And inequality hides. Not every role is designed to be lovable. Some work is repetitive, constrained, or simply there to keep things moving. When we centre love as the goal, we risk overlooking the reality of those jobs and the people doing them well. None of this shows up in a strategy document. But you can feel it.
A different way to think about it
We don’t need to throw the idea out. But we do need to reposition it. Love works best at work when it’s a signal, not an expectation. Something you notice. Not something you perform.
Pay attention to the moments that strengthen you. The tasks you’re drawn to. The conversations that leave you clearer, not more depleted. Those are clues. Not instructions. Not obligations. Just data.
You don’t need to overhaul your job or declare a grand passion. Often, it’s smaller than that. A slightly different way of approaching a task. More time spent on one kind of work, less on another. Leaning into what gives you energy, where you can.
And for leaders, the question shifts too. Not “What do you love?” but:“What strengthens you?” It’s quieter. More practical. And a lot less loaded.
Where this lands
Maybe Freud was right. Love and work are two of the big things. But that doesn’t mean they have to be the same thing. Or that one should be used to power the other.
You don’t have to love your job. But it helps to find something in it that doesn’t drain the life out of you. Something that holds your attention. Something that gives a little back. That’s probably enough. And honestly, that’s where the good work tends to come from anyway.