OVER a meal, a successful business owner with hundreds of employees casually mentioned that he sometimes takes a two-hour drive back to his hometown just for lunch.
It’s his way of coping with burnout. That really hit home.
Workplace burnout is usually framed as an affliction affecting overworked employees – long hours, demanding bosses. It is a familiar and widely discussed narrative.
But what if the real epicentre of burnout sits higher up the organisational chart?
As a junior litigation lawyer, I typically worked 14 hours a day, seven days a week, enduring harsh treatment not just from bosses, but also from judges.
More than a decade later, when I became a partner in corporate practice, the hours were no better.
Like a goalkeeper in a football team, we are the last line of defence. There is no one else to pick up the slack if we fall sick or face an emergency.
On one occasion, I drove home from the office at 3am and was so mentally exhausted from consecutive late nights that I could not find my house. I drove in circles on familiar roads I had taken countless times.
I was already in my 40s – a partner leading a team.
Many in my generation have endured burnout for decades without a career break, unaware that the exhaustion we experienced even had a name – until burnout became a widely discussed topic after the pandemic.
While burnout affects every level of an organisation, for bosses and business owners it is not just prevalent – it is often more acute, more isolating and far less visible.
Unlike junior employees, business owners and bosses worry about revenue fluctuations, client retention and rising operational costs. This stress is amplified in professional services such as law firms, where revenue is closely tied to human performance and client relationships.
The need to constantly generate work while maintaining high service standards can create a cycle of overwork and anxiety.
Leadership is frequently associated with control, autonomy and financial reward.
Yet, in practice, it often means absorbing pressure from every direction without the ability to deflect it. Employees escalate problems upward; clients demand outcomes; and business is filled with uncertainty.
There is no higher authority to pass the burden to.
This creates a form of psychological compression. Leaders are expected to remain decisive and composed even as they navigate ambiguity and risk.
Over time, this constant tension produces a quieter, more severe form of fatigue – one that is masked by outward competence and success.
At senior levels, burnout is compounded by isolation. There are fewer peers to confide in and fewer safe spaces to express doubt.
Admitting strain can feel like destabilising confidence within the organisation or undermining clients’ trust. At times, even well-meaning clients – especially those who are also friends – may assume they are helping by giving less work, believing it will ease the pressure.
As a result, many leaders internalise stress rather than externalise it. The hidden burden of leadership is cumulative: decision fatigue and emotional exhaustion.
Unlike employee burnout, which may manifest visibly through disengagement, leadership burnout often hides behind continued performance – and the expectation of being “the one responsible.”
Successes are celebrated with the team, but leaders often face problems alone.
Leaders live with a persistent sense of vigilance, where switching off is all but impossible.
The result is a relentless internal pressure that no wellness initiative can easily address.
Into this already strained environment enters accelerating technological change.
Is artificial intelligence (AI) a relief valve or a pressure multiplier? On one hand, AI can reduce administrative burdens, streamline operations, improve responsiveness and enable leaner teams.
For leaders, this could mean more time for strategic thinking and managing client relationships – perhaps even creating space for personal time.
On the other hand, faster tools create faster expectations.
Greater efficiency raises the bar for output. Clients accustomed to rapid turnaround begin to expect it as the norm.
What was once exceptional quickly becomes baseline.
At a law conference I attended recently, a partner from a 600-lawyer firm shared how AI has begun to reduce the need for junior lawyers, potentially addressing the high turnover rates among younger employees – a trend that appears to be global.
For many leaders, employee retention remains a major source of stress.
AI tools are now accessible even to the smallest businesses. In the legal industry, AI’s ability to quickly draft agreements and court documents allows small firms with no more than five lawyers and limited resources to compete with mid-sized firms of more than 30 lawyers, producing work of comparable quality.
One of the biggest challenges cited by my peers who run small firms is their inability to attract and retain junior lawyers, which in turn limits their ability to consistently deliver quality work.
For them, AI could be a game changer.
But this same development also cuts the other way.
For owners of mid-sized firms, AI may introduce new pressures, as for the same quality work, smaller outfits are able to offer more competitive pricing than larger practices burdened by higher operating costs.
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