Have you ever considered “Quiet Quitting”?
I (Bec) was catching up with a friend I hadn’t seen in ages — plenty of texting, but no proper girl catch-up for far too long. We finally managed to align trains and used the commute home to actually talk. And almost immediately, something became obvious: we were both just… hanging in there at work.
As we compared notes on our frustrations, we realised we were tired of always being the ones who picked up the extra work, stayed the extra hours, cared about the timelines, the outcomes, the details. Somewhere along the way, without even noticing, we’d both started pulling back. Not slacking off — just quietly stepping away from the “above and beyond” that had become expected rather than appreciated.
It wasn’t lost on us that our extra effort rarely led to recognition or reward. Meanwhile, others doing far less were being paid more or praised more. So why were we still pushing so hard?
At first, I assumed it was burnout — that familiar desire to do less because you’re running on fumes. But then the term quiet quitting started popping up in my LinkedIn feed and social media ads (proof the devices really are always listening). For once, I was grateful for the algorithm. A quick search turned up article after article describing exactly what we were feeling.
Quiet quitting isn’t about quitting at all. It’s about doing what’s required — and not automatically doing more. It’s setting boundaries for self-preservation. It’s recognising that you don’t have to be everything to everyone, all the time.
I felt relieved. I wasn’t alone. It wasn’t a “me problem.” It was a much wider shift, and one that deserves the attention of business leaders. And as women, we need to talk about it openly.
Workloads haven’t just increased — they’ve crept up quietly, almost invisibly. Entire project teams have disappeared, but the projects themselves haven’t. They’ve simply been absorbed into what’s now considered the “normal” workload… the same workload that was already overflowing. Companies are downsizing, restructuring, or leaning on offshore teams and half-baked tech solutions. The work still needs doing, but the support, context, or capability isn’t always there. And the expectations? Still sky high.
So who fills the gaps? Usually the people who care the most.
And, speaking broadly, women often fall into that category. We care. We say yes. Yes, I’ll take on that extra project. Yes, I’ll do the presentation. Yes, I’ll grab the groceries on the way home. Yes, I’ll help with the fundraiser. The list goes on. We say yes because we don’t want to let the team down, because we want to be seen as capable, because we want to learn quickly and be self-sufficient.
But is that always the best approach? By saying yes to everything, am I blocking someone else from learning? Am I creating an expectation that I’ll always be the one to step in? Am I making myself the default solution simply because I’ve always been willing?
When you’re constantly asked to do more with less, your willingness to go above and beyond naturally fades. Not because you’re uncommitted — but because you’re exhausted. And that’s where quiet quitting becomes a boundary. A gentle but firm declaration: I’ll show up. I’ll do my job well. But I won’t sacrifice my wellbeing to compensate for structural issues I didn’t create.
It’s not laziness. It’s not disengagement. It’s a recalibration — a recognition that loyalty is a two-way street, and that constantly over-delivering in an under-resourced environment isn’t sustainable for anyone.
Quiet quitting is the moment you choose yourself — your energy, your time, your sanity. And honestly, that’s not quitting. That’s self‑preservation. That’s clarity. That’s women quietly, but firmly, drawing the line together.
Is it as simple as saying, That’s it, I’m done, I’m choosing me? Not in my experience. Some days I stand strong and don’t automatically say yes. Other days, choosing myself leaves me wrecked with guilt and self‑doubt. And then there are the days where I feel completely at peace with my decision.
What I have found, though, is that the more I practice — whether it’s biting my tongue, saying no, or sitting on an email or text before responding — the easier it becomes to shift the dial and stop slipping back into old habits.
I (Caro) have loved reading what Bec has written. I have to admit I’ve been quietly “quiet quitting” for years now - I just hadn’t called it that. I used to be a great gap filler.
Followers of Jesus are told to: “Look not only to your own interests but also to the interests of the others.” [Philippians 2:4].
For me, sometimes it’s in my best interests to say “no”. And sometimes it’s in the best interests of others that I say “no”. A thoughtful “no” is better than an automatic “yes” when it comes to gap-filling. And that still allows room for a thoughtful “yes” if I am able to go the extra mile.
I don’t get it right all the time. But what helps me to think more clearly is knowing that God has my best interests at heart. He will look after me. I matter to him. And that really helps to take the heat out of gap-filling for validation. Which let’s face it, that’s what a lot of gap filling was actually about for me.
Questions:
Have you ever felt that going above and beyond became the expectation rather than the exception? How did that impact your motivation?
Have you ever found yourself quietly pulling back at work without realising it? What triggered it for you?
How often do you say “yes” to extra tasks out of habit, guilt, or expectation rather than genuine capacity?
Do you think quiet quitting is a healthy response, a warning sign, or something else entirely?
If you stopped automatically saying yes to everything, what might open up — for you and for others?
