I still love the ABC, but I’m rethinking my relationships with work

February. The children are finally back at school, the traffic is as thick as the humidity and the back-to-back meetings are back with a vengeance. Even my happiest hardest-working friend is sending me uninspirational quotes like “I’m Exhausterwhelmulated” – exhausted, overwhelmed and overstimulated all at once.

It’s a February foe I’d be fighting, except, I have no job to go back to. Two months on from being told my contract would not be renewed at ABC Radio Sydney, I’m still feeling love from listeners who sent thousands of messages of support.

Former ABC Radio Sydney presenter Sarah Macdonald. “The reaction to my removal has been a reward for the work.”Credit: Graphic: Matthew Absalom-Wong

From my first job at the records and cigarettes counter at Wynyard Woolies aged 14, to my last job discussing the nostalgia of vinyl and the scourge of vapes on the radio, aged in my 50s, I’ve worked hard. Now I’m questioning if I worked too hard. Gave too much, subsumed too much of my identity in what I did rather than who I am. It’s hard not to give it all in a blessed radio gig – being a part of people’s daily lives, chatting with leaders, the famous and the uncelebrated legends who make this city sing meant I got as much as I gave, and I dearly miss those who gave me so much.

The reaction to my removal has been a reward for the work. It was overwhelming and powerful and the wonderful messages of support still coming give me great solace and stem any regret. Radio is an intimate and emotional medium, so I’ve become a lightning rod for people’s stories of being let go at work. Many in my generation are questioning their own relationship with work as they nurse a broken heart.

I feel them, but surely only a lover, family member, friend, poet or pet should have the honour and privilege of breaking a heart. I’m not sure it’s healthy to think about a job as a relationship. Employers and employees are at best dating or in a casual insecure fling. We can have relationships within work – one of the best things after the pay – but to feel we’re in a relationship when we are in servitude is bonkers.

Many workplaces foster a relationship, some offering free food, games, social clubs and sleep pods. These things are fun (a special shout out here to a former boss at Triple J who got us a pinball machine by requisitioning a purchase order for a “manual dexterity training device”). But aren’t most of these inducements about making you so enthralled you’ll work even harder?

Work is not a relationship, it’s a transaction. Transactions can be fun, pleasant, meaningful and aligned with your values. But they are not relationships.

A workplace counsellor recently told me she’s never seen such a disconnect between workers and workplaces. She thought it was AI and the fear of robots taking over. The insecurity is palpable in our insecure world. Australians may not be getting fork-in-the-road emails from Elon Musk but the December report from Jobs and Skills Australia showed the gradual softening of the recruitment market is ongoing. AI-sorted CVs only add to the fear. But perhaps too many of us have been in love with a robot all along.

When my teen daughter set out for work experience she was agitated and upset. When we asked her why she said she didn’t want to work all day and into the night like her parents. She’d forgotten the times we’d stepped back from work and just saw what we modelled in the present. This generation is canny to overcommitment. When I used to message younger colleagues after hours and they ignored me, I would begrudgingly admire them. I’m not sure I could embrace the “lazy girl job” or “quiet quitting” but I respect the cohort that wants to set limits.

So, I am looking to reinvent my approach to work. Maybe I’ll speed-date and root around. I’ll love my work, I’ll have passion, but I won’t marry it. Comedian Miranda Hart says if you’re tired, going through a midlife crisis or lacking joy in your work life, you should ask yourself the question posed to you in childhood: “What do you want to be when you grow up?” She says the answer provides a portal to what you are missing out on now. It may also help with the teacher and police officer shortage in NSW. Hart always wanted to be a comedian. Little Sarah wanted to be a fairy. If anyone needs a middle-aged fairy, call me.

And why not? I have friends in their 50s teaching trapeze, becoming a counsellor and driving a Sydney tram. Divorced from the fantasy of a work relationship, they’re following their lust for life and hoping it can pay to play around.

Sarah Macdonald is an author and broadcaster.