Send Prayers; I May Have ‘Purpose Fatigue’.

Upon the usual distracted disembarkment from my commuter train yesterday, a tea brand, running a street sampling campaign, handed me a rubber Orangutan.
Not a sample of their product.
A rubber Orangutan.

The poor guy handing it over stood in awkward silence as my glance darted from him, to the Orangutan, and back to him, before he blurted out, “We harvest responsibly!”

I smiled politely while the rubber Orangutan seared the irony of deforestation directly into the palm of my hand.

In that moment, I realised I’m suffering from a consumption condition that I’m going to whimsically name: purpose fatigue.
There. I said it.

When did purpose become the corporate equivalent of wellness vaping? Virtuous, expensive, and mildly exhausting.

When did every business suddenly get a North Star? A reason for being? A five-point values manifesto with its own internal microsite and merch?
We’re no longer selling products. We’re “changing lives.” Inspiring. Empowering. Reinventing. (Often unclear what, exactly. But who cares? Just sponsor the damn Orangutan, Billie, and stop asking questions.)

Before you fling your crystals at me, don’t get me wrong. I know full well it started with good intentions. Purpose matters. People want to do work that means something.

But somewhere between the glossy vision decks and the LinkedIn thought leadership, purpose got... performative.
It got marketed up the ying-yang.

I can’t be the only one with the involuntary eye twitch when a company announces their new bold mission, which sounds suspiciously like the last bold mission, just with more adjectives and smug nods.

The disconnect between what leaders say they value and what they actually incentivise.
The creeping suspicion that “authenticity” has been workshopped by brand consultants whizzing through the boardroom in their heelies.

I think I have purpose fatigue. (Yes, I’m self-diagnosing.)

And here’s the uncomfortable truth: it’s not that people don’t care about purpose anymore. It’s that they think you’re full of s**t.

Because if your values only show up on the website, the merch, or your trendy pop-up (and not in the 1:1s, the boardroom, the layoffs, or the budget meetings) then they’re not values.
They’re marketing.

Purpose without practice is just shitty PR.

So what do we do? A good place to start would be to stop asking, “What’s our purpose?” And start asking, “Are we worth believing in?”

Belief is earned.
It shows up in the tough calls.
In who gets promoted.
In how we handle failure, feedback, flexibility.
In the way we show up when it’s hard and no one’s watching.
In the decisions we make when the consumer isn’t in the room.

It’s less sexy than a rebrand.
More demanding than a value statement.
But it sticks.

Because when your people believe; not in the slogan, but in the standard, they’ll show up in ways no mission statement ever could.
That energy travels all the way to the consumer.

Forget finding your why (no shade, Simon Sinek, I love you more than cheese).
Start proving your who.

Who are you, truly?

Because that’s what the best people are looking for now.
Not perfection. Not poetry.
Just businesses they can actually believe in