Profile of Adrian Goh, Baptized name: Barnabas
– A family man and a Christian who volunteers overseas (Indonesia, Myanmar and other countries)
– Highly experienced in physical security, workplace safety, facilities management, human resource management. He is also workplace safety and fire safety certified
– He is equally comfortable in leading in major operations and administrative work
–He had written several articles on fire safety, workplace safety, human resources, micro expression and articles on the bible.
– He is a writer and storyteller who loves to share stories encountered
Quiet quitting in Singapore is not about handing in a resignation letter. It is about staying in your job but quietly withdrawing the extra effort, enthusiasm, and emotional investment that used to come with it. In a city where long hours, high expectations, and “can-do” attitudes have long been the norm, quiet quitting feels like a small, private rebellion: doing exactly what you are paid to do, and nothing more.
What quiet quitting looks like in real life
The term went viral globally as a Gen Z–coined idea, but in Singapore it has taken on a very local flavour. It is less dramatic than walking out mid-shift and more subtle than open confrontation. It shows up in everyday choices:
– A marketing executive who used to stay late to polish campaign decks now logs off at 6.05 pm, cycles home, cooks dinner, and treats her evenings as “sacred time to recalibrate and recharge”
– A junior analyst stops volunteering for extra projects after realising that “going above and beyond” never translated into promotions or meaningful recognition.
– Teams where people still attend meetings and hit KPIs, but no one speaks up when a strategy looks flawed, because “it’s not worth the trouble” or “nothing will change anyway”
One LinkedIn post from a Singapore-based mediator describes this as “the silence of disengagement”: employees stop contributing ideas, stop challenging bad decisions, and slowly check out, all while keeping a polite, professional front. On the surface, everything looks fine. Underneath, trust and innovation are quietly eroding.
Why quiet quitting makes sense in Singapore’s context
To understand why quiet quitting resonates here, you have to look at how work is organised and talked about in Singapore.
1. High-pressure, meritocratic culture
Singapore prides itself on being competitive and meritocratic. Many workers grow up believing that if they work hard, they will be rewarded. But in practice, effort does not always match outcomes. People see colleagues putting in 10–12 hour days, skipping lunch, and answering messages at night, yet still hitting career ceilings or being passed over for promotion.
When extra effort feels like the new baseline rather than something special, it stops being motivating. Quiet quitting becomes a rational response: “If I’m going to be expected to do this much anyway, I’ll at least protect my evenings and weekends.”
2. “Wayang” culture and performative overwork
There is a local term that often comes up in these conversations: “wayang” – Hokkien for “show” or “performance”. In some offices, staying late is less about actual productivity and more about looking dedicated. People linger at their desks, send emails at odd hours, or make sure their bosses see them working, even if the extra time does not add much value.
Quiet quitting, in this sense, is a rejection of wayang. One article calls it “calibrated effort”: giving 100% during paid hours and 0% after, treating employment as a transaction rather than a lifestyle. A worker might still deliver good results, but they stop playing the game of performative overwork. They leave at 6 pm, stop replying to non-urgent messages after hours, and no longer feel guilty about it
3. Indirect communication and “saving face”
Singaporean workplace culture tends to value harmony, respect for hierarchy, and avoiding open conflict. Many employees feel “paiseh” (embarrassed or reluctant) to raise concerns directly with managers, especially about workload, unfair treatment, or unclear expectations.
Instead of saying, “This is too much” or “This promotion process feels unfair”, they quietly scale back. A mediator in Singapore notes that employees often do not challenge flawed strategies because speaking up might disrupt team harmony or risk losing face. Resentment builds silently, and by the time leadership notices, the employee has already mentally checked out.
This is why quiet quitting in Singapore often looks so polite. People do not make a scene. They just stop going the extra mile.
4. Economic uncertainty and “job hugging”
In recent years, layoffs, hiring freezes, and slower job growth have made many workers cautious. Resignation rates in Singapore hit record lows in 2024–2025, with experts describing a trend of “job hugging”: staying in unfulfilling roles out of fear that the external market is worse.
In this environment, quiet quitting becomes a compromise. A worker might think: “I can’t afford to quit, but I also can’t keep burning myself out for a company that might retrench me next year.” So they stay, but they stop investing emotionally.
One Reddit thread asked if anyone knew someone who “left work halfway for good”. One story described a family friend who walked out of her pharmaceutical sales job after a year, never returning, due to clashes with leadership. For many, though, leaving mid-shift feels too risky. Quiet quitting is the safer version: stay employed, but protect your energy.
Real examples from Singapore workers
The trend is not just theoretical; it shows up in concrete stories shared in the media and online.
The “5–9 after 9–5” movement
On TikTok, a trend called “my 5–9 after my 9–5” has gained traction among Gen Z and younger millennials in Singapore. Instead of collapsing on the couch after work, they use their evenings for hobbies, fitness, side projects, and self-expression.
Calista Battista, a 25-year-old senior digital marketing executive, clocks out at 6.05 pm, cycles 17.5 km home, cooks dinner, and winds down before bed around 11 pm. She packages her routine into short TikTok videos that have attracted thousands of followers. For her, this is not laziness; it is a deliberate choice to reclaim time that used to be swallowed by work.
Ecclesia Chang, a 30-year-old in public relations, treats her after-work hours as “sacred time to recalibrate and recharge”. She films corporate vlogs, bakes, and runs a home bakery as a passion project. Even in a high-pressure industry, she refuses to let her job define her entire identity.
These stories illustrate quiet quitting in action: not slacking off at work, but drawing a firm line between paid hours and personal life.
The employee who feels “quiet fired”
On the flip side, some workers describe feeling “quiet fired”: sidelined through reduced responsibilities, exclusion from key projects, or constant role changes until they choose to leave. One employee posted online that after a restructuring, no formal layoffs happened, but headcount was frozen and remaining staff were reassigned to new roles with changing job scopes. The unspoken message: adapt or eventually leave.
In this context, quiet quitting can be a defensive move. If you sense that your contributions are no longer valued, you might stop volunteering for extra work, stop staying late, and start emotionally detaching. It is a way of saying, “If this is how you treat me, I will give you exactly what you pay for, nothing more.”
The LinkedIn post about “system problems”
A widely shared LinkedIn post by a Singapore-based career commentator argued that many workers’ unhappiness is not just a mindset issue but a “system problem”: 10–12 hour days that quietly became normal, managers promoted without people skills, career ladders that do not really exist, and salaries stretched thin by the cost of living. The post warned against telling unhappy employees to simply “reflect more” when the real issues are structural.
Quiet quitting fits into this narrative. It is what happens when people realise that no amount of extra effort will fix a broken manager, create opportunities that are not there, or pay the bills in an expensive city. So they stop trying to “win” a game that feels rigged.
The cost of quiet quitting – for workers and companies
Quiet quitting is often framed as a personal choice, but it has wider consequences.
For employees, it can be protective in the short term: less burnout, more time for health, relationships, and personal projects. But over time, it can also stall career growth. If you stop taking on stretch assignments, speaking up in meetings, or building deeper relationships at work, you may find yourself overlooked when promotions or interesting projects come up.
For companies, the costs are more insidious. A mediator in Singapore points out that the real damage is not in dramatic confrontations but in the “slow drain of innovation, the loss of institutional knowledge when talented people leave, the sabotage that happens when disengaged employees stop caring about outcomes”. Teams may still hit targets, but they stop improving. Ideas dry up. People do the minimum, and the organisation slowly stagnates.
Surveys in the region suggest that disengagement is widespread. One source note that in Southeast Asia, 74% of workers are either “quiet or loud quitters” – disconnected from their work despite appearing compliant. In Singapore specifically, reports highlight that many employees feel pressure from job uncertainty, unclear expectations, and stalled career growth, leading to “quiet cracking” – delivering results while internally struggling.
Quiet quitting as a cultural signal
In Singapore, quiet quitting is best understood as a cultural signal rather than a simple HR problem. It reflects tensions between:
– A meritocratic, competitive ethos that rewards hustle and constant upskilling.
– Growing expectations for balance, purpose, and mental well-being, especially among younger workers.
– A communication style that favours harmony and indirectness, which can suppress honest dialogue about workload, fairness, and career prospects.
Prime Minister Lawrence Wong has explicitly referenced “quiet quitting” and the related idea of “tang ping” (lying flat) in parliamentary debates, warning against succumbing to these trends while acknowledging the underlying anxieties driving them. That alone shows how seriously the phenomenon is taken: it is not just a workplace fad, but a sign of deeper social and economic pressures.
What might come next
Quiet quitting in Singapore is unlikely to disappear as long as the underlying conditions remain: high cost of living, intense competition, and a work culture that often blurs the line between dedication and exploitation. But it is also pushing organisations to rethink how they operate.
Some employers are starting to:
– Emphasise work–life balance as a core value, not just a slogan.
– Train managers to listen actively, set clear expectations, and give regular feedback.
– Create safer channels for feedback so employees can raise concerns without fear of losing face
– Recognise effort more visibly and link it to meaningful outcomes and growth opportunities.
At the same time, workers are experimenting with new ways of living. The “5–9 after 9–5” trend, home bakeries, fitness routines, and creative side projects show that many Singaporeans are trying to build lives that are not entirely defined by their day jobs.
Quiet quitting, in this light, is not just about doing less at work. It is about making space for more outside of it. In a culture that has long equated self-worth with productivity, that shift – quiet as it may be – is significant.