Speaking to TA NEA, three professionals between the ages of 30 and 35—a nurse in the national healthcare system, a substitute teacher, and a private sector employee—describe their experience of professional burnout. Despite their differing fields, their stories converge on a common theme: a daily routine without limits, without respite, and—perhaps most distressingly—without prospects. Beyond physical exhaustion, each account echoes the same underlying sentiment: a deep sense of futility. That effort is not enough. That no matter how much you give, the job leads nowhere.

“I have nothing left to give”

A.S., 32, is a nurse at a public hospital in Athens. He works grueling shifts, constantly understaffed and under pressure, both physically and mentally.
“There are days I finish at 3 p.m. and go back in at 11. And that’s considered normal.”
On-call duty, he says, “feels like a war zone.” Everything runs on autopilot.
“It’s not that I don’t care about the patients. It’s that I don’t have time to feel.”
Emotional detachment becomes a defense mechanism.
“I have nothing left to give—not because I don’t want to, but because I just can’t.”
The emotional toll goes unrecognized.
“It’s as if saying ‘I’m tired’ means you’re not cut out for the job. I don’t want to be called a hero. I just want to do my work without being afraid I’ll make a mistake because I’m too exhausted.”

“I live in constant insecurity”

N.K., 34, is a substitute teacher in a public school. Every academic year begins from scratch, with no stability or long-term outlook.
“I live in constant insecurity. I can’t plan anything—not even the basics.”
The system relies on temporary fixes for permanent needs.
“You step into the classroom, and they expect you to function like you’ve been there for months. There’s no support, no time.”
The wear and tear is relentless.
“I’ve stopped saying I’m tired. Who’s going to listen? Eventually, you withdraw. You do the bare minimum and leave.”

“My salary doesn’t even cover the basics”

E.X., 35, works in the marketing department of a major private company.
“It’s supposed to be a ‘creative’ job. In practice, you’re just racing to keep up with what gets dumped on you.”
The pressure is nonstop: projects, meetings, emails over the weekend.
“My salary doesn’t even cover the basics. And even if you want to quit, you’re scared. Every job listing asks for five years of experience—for 700 euros.”
Gender inequalities persist.
“I’ve seen men with the same or less experience getting paid more. And while I manage entire campaigns and stick to strict deadlines, it’s not uncommon to be called ‘little girl.’ That one word carries so much condescension.”
Burnout becomes the norm.
“I never really rest. And still, I feel like I’m not doing enough. Everything has to be done ‘now,’ ‘perfectly,’ and ‘without cost.’”
She explains, “It’s not the pressure that breaks you. It’s that there’s no off switch. And you can’t say, ‘I can’t take it anymore.’”