Bullshit Jobs - An HR Perspective

David Graeber's Bullshit Jobs isn't just a critique of work—

it's a call to rethink the meaning of work itself.

David Graeber didn’t just write a book with Bullshit Jobs; he handed me a vocabulary that helped me articulate the deep-seated frustrations and confusions many of us feel in the modern workforce. Even as a recent MBA graduate well versed in business jargon and corporate absurdities, I was caught off guard by the profound arguments and theory this text was going to present me with. Like many freshly minted MBAs navigating the choppy waters of professional life and attempting to gain employment in this corporate hellscape, I am parsing through several dozen job descriptions daily, searching for positions that not only meet the qualifications set forth by the company’s standards but would also allow me to engage in work that is genuinely meaningful and fulfilling.

During this pseudo-ritualistic act, I have often caught myself asking, "What the hell is this job? What would I actually be doing here? Why does it matter? Does this job even need to exist?" Graeber's book provided me with the words and framework to articulate this unease that has been simmering beneath the surface of my professional aspirations.

In this book, he argues that a massive chunk of modern jobs are utterly meaningless—jobs that even the people doing them secretly believe should not exist. These aren’t just low-wage, repetitive tasks. These are often middle-management roles, PR gigs, corporate compliance tasks, or entire departments built on maintaining the illusion of productivity. And suddenly, it all clicked.

I had spent two years studying HR—a domain that floats uneasily between impact and performativity. On a good day, you're building cultures, shaping organizations, and enabling people to thrive. On a bad day, you're writing policies no one reads, creating dashboards for KPIs that exist to justify other KPIs, or running workshops that feel more like theatre than transformation. This duality of purpose within HR began to resonate deeply with me as I reflected on my own journey

Graeber called this phenomenon "managerial feudalism," and it struck a nerve. In trying to make work legible, we’ve bureaucratized it to the point where the rituals of work have overtaken its purpose. Meetings about meetings. Reports that no one reads. Layers of approval for decisions no one will own. This cycle of inefficiency and disconnection was something I had sensed but struggled to articulate until I encountered Graeber's insights.

Reading this as someone coming out of B-school was especially jarring. You enter these programs with a vague desire to lead, to fix, to transform. You leave fluent in frameworks, but unsure what change looks like in practice. And when you do land a job, you might end up holding up one of the facades Graeber critiques.

You really don't wanna end up like this.

What stuck with me the most wasn’t the critique, but the subtle call to action. Graeber doesn’t just want us to burn it all down. He wants us to rediscover the joy of meaningful work. He wants dignity restored to labour—not in the traditional Protestant ethic sense, which often glorifies overwork and sacrifice (thereby insinuating that work is inherently meant to be a miserable experience and as something that is opposed to pleasure), but rather in a humane, curious, and purpose-driven way that honours the intrinsic value of each individual’s contributions.

So what does this mean for someone like me—someone who loves the process of thinking, analyzing, and making sense of complex issues, while also grappling with the practical need to pay rent? It means choosing roles (and projects) that ask more of my mind than my ability to play office politics. It means saying no to jobs that pay well but make my soul itch. It means interrogating every task—Who is it for? What does it change? What would happen if it didn’t exist?

Bullshit jobs thrive on abstraction. But I want to build clarity. That’s the HR I care about—an HR that questions the organizational chart, listens deeply to the needs of employees, and recognizes the crucial difference between a process and a mere performance. An HR that is vigilant to the signs when a job becomes a cage, stifling creativity and growth. An HR that creates space for those who don’t fit the conventional mould, enabling diverse talents to flourish.

It is a mirror held up not only to late-stage capitalism (which is gradually morphing into a technocratic oligopoly) but also to us—the young professionals, the future leaders, and the change-makers who will shape the workforce of tomorrow. It asks, What will you build? And what will you refuse? What the hell do you want to do with your life?

These inquiries are essential as we navigate our careers and seek to align our work with our values and aspirations.

As for me, I’ll keep asking those questions. Loudly.

(Maybe even on a blog nobody reads).

Bullshit Jobs is definitely a must-read for pretty much anyone really, but especially so for those HR professionals who want to ensure that work is meaningful and fulfilling for those doing them (and for those that hired them to do the jobs).