Is it Me, or Are We All “Stacking Grinds”?

All time must now be quality time

Ah, the grind. The 40-plus hours a week of earning my keep whilst trying to keep soul and sanity intact. There’s not much I can add to the endless commentary on this reality. What interests me most on this topic is that contemporary living seems to be centered around the grind on top of the grind. Or should I say, the grinds on top of the grind. The stacked grind, if you will. It’s as though our increased reliance on machinery and automated processes has changed our expectations of ourselves — that we, too, should have a certain level of productivity at all times. Ever productive, ever optimal. 

Sustainable, optimal, valuable. Execution, success, failure. This language is the perfect fit for operating businesses, quarterly board meetings, and machines. It’s far from a healthy or perfect fit for people, though. Machines were only ever brought to society to bring results. Unfortunately, not only are we not machines, the results of our productivity are rarely as important to us as the process of being busy itself is. Aren’t we all about the process, the journey? The results and the destination aren’t ever that relevant. Maybe that’s how this obsession with the grind came to be; we wanted to chase that high of being productive at all costs, at all times. Is this grind stacking a result of industrial brainwashing? Are we collectively turning ourselves into mass machinery, becoming something we were never meant to be? 

Optimally

I’m trying to work out what optimal means for myself, and I’m looking around at my peers. What I’m observing is curious. Those in the deepest of grinds, chasing work, gym, social, vocational, and status goals seem the furthest from happiness. The people closest in my life, who have the best slice of happiness, are doing quite the opposite. 

These people are far from gym rats: padded, not iron board flat, and far from worried about how photogenic they are. Selfies and social accounts aren’t really these people’s deal; they are more concerned about school catchment areas than their waistlines. They don’t ask for much, money is responsibly watched over, not idolized with a giddy dream of more. Despite the lack of striving, thriving, “optimal;” they appear to have what all those chasing optimal don’t have — a noticeable degree of contentment and peace with themselves and their lives, which I admire.

The stacked grind is insane, and yet, it’s normal for many. 

I’m writing this as I attempt it on my own. I’ve got the 40-hour a week job, the 3–4 workouts a week, the clean diet, the regular social hangouts, and as the author of this piece — wouldn’t you know — my vocation, my calling, my “side hustle” is writing.

Grinding to a… burnout?

I’d be lying if I told you I don’t wake up some Saturday mornings and feel… flattened. I’m still a young man (relatively… my twenties have been and gone; toll the bell, please) and yeah, I’m tired. It would also be dishonest of me to tell you I’m not after “optimal.” And, frankly, it would be dishonest of me to tell you I know what optimal means for myself. When I look around and see my peers after the same thing — this elusive idea of optimal — they appear equally bewildered at the input-to-reward ratio of grind stacking. 

Ha, there I go again, talking in ratios. Machine, much?

With all of this stacking and pushing for optimization in our lives, am I the only one who  foresees the inevitable outcome — burnout?

This contemporary burnout culture worries me, and maybe because I’ve experienced it myself. An utter internal flatlining was my burnout. Unable and uninterested in relating to much and full of fear. Thanks to the travelling I was soon to do, I did get months off work to recoup. What really shook me was my genuine anxiety over returning to work when the time inevitably came. 

People more disciplined, educated, and capable than me have burned out. Lawyers, doctors, nurses — all professions admirable but a likely disaster in these hands — sidelined and flattened through overexertion. Burnout is not specific to geography. I’ve seen burnouts in Australia, New Zealand, the UK, the U.S., and Norway. We’ve never had more provincial safety or material comfort. In some sense, we’ve never had it so good. 

Maybe it’s because we’re expecting and wanting more than ever before. Previous times had people working longer, harder hours with less to aid them, and yet burnout was not in their lexicon. 

Will the grind measure up?

When our elders look back, they don’t regret what they have done — they regret what they didn’t do. In this respect, we might consider more stacking. However, the free spirit in me very much wants to savor the juice of life. While I can, when I can, go for all of it, the good stuff. A very best attempt to squeeze out every last drop.

I’m observing the struggle of the grind and not its raving success. There are surely people who can and do hit the robot groove: up at 5, supplements, exercise, work, date night, and a chartered flight the following morning. For the select few who do not find their mortal limits screaming at them in this process, I applaud them.

Yet it is the tenor of our grind-into-burnout culture that unsettles me. A Buddhist proverb says, “Each of you is perfect the way you are, and yet, you can use a little improvement.” 

I feel our current culture emphasizes the last part of that phrase — with scant regard for the first.