Apparently, climbing up the career ladder isn’t as fashionable as it used to be when I started my first job in the late 90s. In a 2025 report by McKinsey, significantly fewer women were interested in getting a promotion than their male counterparts. 69 per cent of entry-level women wanted to advance versus 80 per cent of entry-level men.
Another study by recruitment consultants Robert Walters, revealed over half (54 per cent) of UK female professionals felt less motivated to pursue promotions compared to two years ago – a trend they’ve named “promotion burnout”.
I don’t find it surprising that young women are falling out of love with the relentless hamster wheel. They know what I didn’t when I was starting out: women have to work harder than men, and get half as much reward.
Looking back, I wish I hadn’t been so obsessive about promotions. In 1998, I joined a market research agency run by two women, and straight away realised there was a strong hierarchy in place. The path to progression was obvious. This was good, I had thought. I could see the hoops I needed to jump through to get to the next level, like Sonic The Hedgehog, but less fun.
The hours were long in market research. We often did a full day in the office, and then focus groups (moderating or observing) late into the evening, sometimes finishing work at 11pm, and sometimes having client meetings after the groups finished. I had thought the travel was glamorous until it was pusing me to the limit. We would fly to New York, get off the plane, shower and then there would be a client meeting and groups to moderate. The culture was macho, so illness was frowned upon. Success meant being pushed to your limits.
I remember a beautiful, sunny day in Paris. I spent it sitting in a pitch-dark viewing facility, listening to a French guy speak (with a monotone translator in my ears). He was talking to a group of participants about the ideal words to “describe a fantasy duvet filling”. The sessions were three hours long. At one point, I almost fell asleep; the heat inside was unbearable. I kept wondering why I was listening to this crap. Who even cared? Normal people were on terraces and drinking wine, smoking – probably hooking up.
I was in my late 20s then, but slowly, I moved up the ladder. I had a lot more money, was earning well in excess of £120,000, but tended to blow it all on clothes and skincare the minute I got paid.
I started to get tension headaches. I would take Nurofen Plus, and over a period of months, I became hooked on them. I started to develop digestive problems, and my skin always looked tired. I had no time to exercise. Most of my colleagues were also navigating stress through drinking too much or having mental breakdowns or tantrums.
And then I was promoted (it took me eight years to get to senior manager) and was given more responsibilities. I was seen as being a great “people person” (probably because I was a woman), and I ended up doing dozens of appraisals each month. In the appraisals, I’d listen to young women complain about how they were struggling to be seen, how male colleagues often interrupted them or didn’t take their ideas seriously, how sometimes they said inappropriate things too (there were a lot of away days where things happened that shouldn’t have). I noticed that the crap that I’d put up with early on (listening to male colleagues wang on about themselves, having them tell me I looked haggard or ‘I wouldn’t sleep with you if you paid me right now’), well, it was still happening! I started to feel disillusioned.
When I had my first child after fertility treatment (and three miscarriages, which I navigated at work), my bosses sent me a text saying that there was a “restructure” and that my role no longer existed. My daughter was two weeks old. I’d worked for the company for 15 years. I remember having a lunch meeting with one of my bosses, and feeling so lost, holding my baby, and thinking that this was somehow my fault. I hadn’t been good enough to be a senior leader. I reflect now and wish I’d been angrier. When I came back, people I’d hired were now managing me. I disengaged. I did the bare minimum. I hated it and wanted to leave. In many ways, this extreme disillusionment forced me to reassess what I wanted in life. I had felt as if the agency was my family, but of course, it wasn’t.
My advice for young women who are starting out on their careers is simple. Firstly, make sure that you never think that your boss is your mum or your dad. Secondly, look at the senior women, do they have the type of lifestyle and values you’d like to have in the future? Is there room for a work-life balance, or are they giving everything they have?
I am not surprised that many don’t want to dedicate their entire beings to work. I am now transactional when it comes to work. I don’t get attached. I earn far less than I did, but my headaches have eased. I don’t have the status, but it was built on shaky ground and wasn’t sustainable. There’s no point being at the top of a ladder that you don’t want to be up.
I now feel healthier, happier and more authentic. My life was built around work. Now my relationships are at its centre.