I Thought It Was Overworking That Made Me Miserable. I was Wrong
I worked over a hundred hours a week as a lawyer on multi-billion dollar mergers and acquisitions. One day, I broke down in the kitchen and started sobbing. My problem? I was making six-figures — but I was deeply unhappy.
Turns out I’m not alone in having that reaction to work. In a survey conducted by Mental Health America, which reviewed the responses of over 17,000 workers, 71% expressed dissatisfaction with their jobs, and 75% experienced a lack of professional recognition.
In my own case, I was berated for omitting a single comma in a contract while my work helping to broker mergers and acquisitions (to the tune of seven and even eight figures) went largely unnoticed. The comma thing wasn’t the sole reason for my desperation, but it contributed to it.
And while my reaction of letting go and crying in the kitchen may seem dramatic, 63% of those who took part in the survey mentioned:
“always, often or sometimes” engaging “in unhealthy behaviors such as drinking or crying.”
According to research by Stanford University, a sense of meaning in the workplace matters more than happiness, and the way to find it is by being a giver, rather than a taker.
But for me, “giving” to companies that are already worth millions of dollars was meaningless, because I couldn’t see the impact I was making.
It was only years later—after I’d left the M&A practice and co-founded Qwil—that I had a significant “aha” moment in the giving back department.
A woman phoned into our customer support number. “Please,” she pleaded. “It’s my only time with my son and I really need your help.”
We had issued her a card that was supposed to instantly load up with an advance on her pay, interest-free. Due to a technical fault, it wasn’t working, and she was getting upset. “Where are you located?” I asked.
“Downtown San Francisco.”
Even at that early stage of the company, we were working with people all over the world. To hear that she was a stone’s throw away from our offices was remarkable.
“Hold on tight,” I said. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I got in my car and drove over to her. She was standing outside a pizza place, her son clutching her hand.
“There you are,” I handed her the money after explaining who I was. “I apologize for the inconvenience. We should have it sorted out ASAP.”
Her eyes lit up and she drew me in for a hug.
Although I had to pitch investors a hundred times until we got funding — as well as burn through my own savings and free time, I still enjoyed a new sense of satisfaction that I’d never known. At that moment, I saw for myself the impact Qwil was capable of making.
Between the time I left the M&A practice and started Qwil, I worked as a freelancer myself for a number of years, nearly defaulting on my mortgage because of a late payment from a client. Having experienced the immense stress that came with the possibility of losing everything, Qwil’s mission to serve the underserved contractor workforce is powerfully personal.
Since then, we’ve had a client app developer go from $100K to $1.5M thanks to using our services and reinvesting income that would otherwise be held up in a months’ long pay cycle into profitable ad campaigns. I’ve also heard many stories of individual contractors who were able to put food on the table, pay their kids’ school tuition, and avoid defaulting on their mortgage thanks to having early access to their earnings.
That was my “aha” moment. I’d assumed that apart from the meaninglessness I experienced, it was the sacrifice of sleep and free time that made being an M&A lawyer miserable for me. But I’ve worked just as hard at Qwil if not harder, with a sense of meaning — that I’m something that actually mattered and had a positive impact in the world — I’d never known before.
