Professional FOMO: Fear of missing out on business opportunities

People often portray FOMO (fear of missing out) as bad. It’s why we check our social media pages way too often and become glued to our phones’ screens. It makes us watch a boring Netflix series to the end, all because we’re afraid that we might miss out if we won’t.

To combat FOMO, I deleted all my social media accounts. I installed a blocker app on my phone to block non-essential websites. All to reduce time-draining activities that deliver no value to me. And it worked! I had more time than ever before. It helped me succeed in my studies with high grades. At work, I delivered outstanding results and was involved in many projects.

I used to be a timid person. I usually declined requests, fearing social confrontations or messing up the task. Over time, I learned the value of saying ‘yes’ more often. Many opportunities presented themselves, and I grew quickly in my career. Yet, at some point, the bubble burst. I worked two jobs, exceeding my contractual hours for both, and had numerous personal projects. I sacrificed every weekend for work, easily making sixty hours per week. At first, all went fine, but soon it started to take its mental toll.

Some time ago, it all came to a point where my week didn’t contain enough hours to uphold my quality standards in all my pursuits: I had to let go of some things. Yet, I noticed how hard it was to give them up. I’d invested time and effort in each pursuit, and all progress seemed lost when I’d quit. I feared missing out on business opportunities: I had developed professional FOMO.

Too much of a good thing

Among alcoholism, drug abuse, etc., workaholism is not the worst addiction. Sure, stress can be pretty damaging. But there are plenty of techniques to work (excessively) hard and still experience limited stress (like meditation, breathing exercises, sports, etc). It all comes with the right attitude and living a healthy lifestyle. Yet, there are other hidden costs.

In the short term, working hard feels great. Delivering good work gives social validation and a sense of growth. But in the long term, it starts to feel quite empty. Looking back at the last three years of my life, especially all the extra hours I’ve worked, it all feels pointless. They are hours of my life that I never get back, that I could’ve spent on personally satisfying things but instead spent on an endless work backlog.

I think time is among the most precious resources we have. It’s already a shame that working forty hours per week is the norm in our modern society. But sacrificing even more time to be slightly more outstanding than others isn’t worth it.

So, what’s the cure?

I hated to do it, but I had to set up a better work-life separation. Not integration. Separation. After work hours, I quit. There’s no value for me to work beyond my contractual hours. I better spend that time on things that are personally relevant to me.

That doesn’t mean flexibility is wholly lost. If a deadline requires me to stay a bit longer, I’m happy to do so. But I also complement it by taking time for myself. The day after working late, I might go for a run in the afternoon or organize some activities with colleagues. That way, we keep the work fun for everyone and celebrate achievements if we had to work extra hard to deliver an exceptional result.

Two years later…

I originally wrote this article two years ago but never published it because I was ‘too busy’. The ‘cure’ described above was my method to reclaim more personal time. But usually, I would fill that personal time with personal projects.

Yeah. Little had changed.

I was very set on professional progress. Every day, I needed to be better than the previous one at something. Until I couldn’t anymore. I reached a peak from where every path seemed to go downhill. So I decided to venture downwards instead.

I quit my job.

Previously, I’d climbed a mountain. Now, I’m back in the valley, wandering around and wondering which mountain to climb next. I’m content frolicking around and not getting attached to anything.

Because I know that once I attach myself, I won’t let go.