On Work, Meaning, and the Space to Choose: Seventeen Years, One Job, and a Lesson in What Matters

This isn’t a textbook story about leadership.

It’s a lived one.

I worked at an establishment for 17 years. Not because I loved the work, because the work was hard, the hours were long, and the pressure was relentless.

We were busy.

Always busy.

Busy in the way that leaves you out of breath, like a long-distance runner.

And the pay?

It was fine, but only because I was putting in so many hours. I wasn’t getting rich. I was just getting by.

So why did I stay for nearly two decades?

Because of the environment. Because of the culture. Because of the leadership.

Even though the work was tough, I felt part of a team. A real team. It was like being in a foxhole with fellow soldiers. The shared hardship brought us together. And that kind of unity doesn’t happen by accident.

It starts at the top.

Every season began with a meeting. And at every meeting, the boss set the tone: leave your baggage at the curb. That was one of the first things he said. Leave the bad vibes, the gossip, the grudges: leave all of it outside.

This isn’t just about professionalism.

It’s about protecting the culture. Because one bitter person can ruin the morale of an entire team. I’ve seen it happen in other workplaces. In most workplaces, honestly.

But not there. There, I wanted to go to work. Even knowing I’d be sweating, rushing, sometimes skipping bathroom breaks. I wanted to be there because the atmosphere was overwhelmingly positive. And that positivity? It started with the boss. He greeted us with gratitude, with laughter, with energy. He made it clear: he was glad to see us.

I can’t say the same now. These days, I’m lucky if I see my boss once a month. Luckier still if she acknowledges me. Gratitude? That’s out of the question.

But it wasn’t just the positivity that made the old place special. It was also autonomy.

I had a job to do, and as long as I did it, no one hovered. No micromanaging. No constant check-ins.

Just trust.

That freedom let me take ownership. It made me care more. It gave the job meaning.

I can’t stress this enough: autonomy breeds pride and investment.

You hire someone to do a job, then let them do it.

That’s what I wanted, and it’s why I went into teaching, not because I always wanted to be a teacher.

Back then, teachers were trusted.

We had broad learning goals, but how we met them was up to us. As long as we did the work, we were left alone to teach in the way we knew best.

That’s changed now. Everything is standardized. Surveillance is constant. Evaluation is never-ending.

Autonomy has been replaced by autocracy.

But let me not stray too far. This is about leadership. And good leadership means granting autonomy . . . and pairing that with recognition.

I felt seen in that old job.

After every shift, the boss said thank you. Almost always said “good job” in one way or another.

Not just to me, but to everyone.

He made us feel like what we did mattered.

That’s what culture is: a shared reality, created from the top. A good leader builds a positive one, a workplace where people are valued, trusted, and respected. Where gossip and toxic competition aren’t just discouraged, but never allowed to take root.

There’s something existential about all this.

Kierkegaard, Sartre, Camus: they all wrestled with the question of meaning.

Not meaning handed down from above, but meaning we create ourselves, through our choices and our actions.

That’s what this job gave me. That’s what good leadership embodies.

The work itself wasn’t glamorous. It didn’t come with status or wealth. But it gave me the freedom to do something well, and to know that it mattered. Not because someone said it did, but because I lived it that way.

Good leadership creates that kind of space, where people can show up, take responsibility, and build meaning through the work they do.

Sartre wrote:

“Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does.”

A good leader doesn’t take that responsibility away from you. A good leader gives you the space to own it.

That’s what good leadership looks like. I stayed 17 years because I worked in a culture that understood this.

It’s a rare and valuable commodity and worth far more than money or status.

Keep that in mind.

And, probably, this is mostly a reminder for myself, but you may find something to value in it as well.