Reclaiming Your Standards in a Scarcity World
Toxic Norms Thrive in Tough Markets
What do the job market and the dating pool have in common in 2025? More than you’d think. Both are crowded but somehow still empty. Both are full of options that look good until you read the fine print. And both have you asking, “Is it me? Or is everything just… worse?”
Job market squeeze: The U.S. job openings rate dropped from 5.6% in 2023 to 4.7% in 2024, with 50% of employees actively looking or open to switching jobs—despite stagnant wage growth—according to Gallup and BLS data bls.gov+1timesofindia.indiatimes.com+1.
Dating digital overload: The global online dating industry tops $9 billion in 2025, with over 400 million users—and 47% of Americans say dating is harder now than a decade ago reddit.com+4wifitalents.com+4forbes.com+4.
We’ve got hiring managers ghosting candidates like bad Tinder dates. We’ve got job seekers embellishing résumés the same way people stretch the truth in bios (“loves adventure” = has a passport but hasn’t used it).
And on both fronts, the theme is the same: people are settling. Not because they want to. But because it feels like they have to.
Scarcity is a hell of a drug. When the market tightens—whether it’s for jobs or love—we start bending. We ignore red flags. We accept low effort. We swallow disappointment with a smile and say, “At least it’s something.”
This is when standards get smeared.
This isn’t just a take based on my LinkedIn (heavily oriented to engagement farming these days) and Facebook (it’s been brutal for the Vernon Township High School Class of ‘97) feeds —it’s backed by research.
A landmark MIT Sloan study found that toxic work culture is the strongest predictor of employee attrition, more than compensation or workload. In fact, toxic culture is 10.4× more predictive of attrition than pay.
A study in Personality and Individual Differences showed that people in emotionally neglectful relationships often recalibrate their expectations downward over time, rationalizing bad behavior to avoid loneliness.
And in dating, nearly 50% of online daters report lowered self-esteem and decision fatigue. Choice overload, swipe culture, and ghosting have turned intimacy into an exhausting roulette.
“The poison was never forced. It was offered gently, until you forgot it was poison at all.” - Mark Twain
That’s how it happens—slowly, subtly, and with your participation.
In the workplace, it starts with small things: a missed one-on-one, a weekend Slack message, a raise that’s “coming soon.” Before long, you’re normalized to the dysfunction. You defend it to new hires. You become it.
In relationships, it’s just as sneaky: plans get rescheduled, affection grows conditional, and communication becomes a ghost town. You start convincing yourself it’s okay. That this is just how love works now. It’s not.
The poison never arrives in a syringe. It’s served in teaspoons. Over time, it becomes part of your diet.
Don’t Blame the Market, Check the Mirror
Here’s the truth: when we lower our standards in the name of practicality or “market conditions,” we become complicit in our own decline.
We tell ourselves this is just how it is. That we’re being smart. Flexible. Realistic. But there’s a line between adapting and eroding.
Before pointing fingers at the dating pool or job market, ask yourself:
What am I accepting that I shouldn’t?
What excuses am I making that I wouldn’t tolerate from others?
Where have I forgotten that this was poison to begin with?
Reset the Standard
This isn’t about bitterness or blame. It’s about clarity. About having the courage to stop drinking what you’ve convinced yourself is water, and admit—finally—it was poison all along.
You want better? Set better goals. Be specific. Be bold. Know exactly what you want in your next job, relationship, or opportunity—and don’t flinch when it feels out of reach.
You want to stop settling? Raise your standards. The right people, companies, and partners won’t be intimidated by your expectations—they’ll be drawn to them.
Because when your standards are impeccable, and your goals are rooted in truth—not fear—you stop absorbing the poison.
You spot it sooner. You reject it faster. You recover quicker.
The antidote, it turns out, is refusing to normalize what once made you sick. It’s holding your vision in focus, even when everything around you looks blurry.
So no, don’t “hold the line.”
Redraw it. Sharpen it. Own it.
And never apologize for demanding something worth your time.