“I Hate Capitalism,” I Murmur, Sipping My Iced Matcha Latte

Many times, I wonder why simply being alive feels like a subscription service I forgot to cancel. I think this out loud while sipping my iced chai bubble tea matcha latte with oat milk and almond milk foam or was it almond milk with oat milk foam? I can’t remember, I sigh and place my bejewelled, limited-edition Stanley cup down with a gentle thump, mildly upset that Starbucks is already out of avocado toast at 11 a.m. I scroll through the menu dejectedly and finally settle for a croissant (kwa-sau, please pronounce its properly) that costs 300 bucks plus taxes, just as my phone pings with a reminder about a fancy gym membership with sauna which I have not stepped in once in last seven months & personal trainer who has given up on me. So much for New Year’s resolutions huh. Capitalism, I think, is so exhausting, as I take another sip from my Grande cup and very thoughtfully munching on my “Kwa- Sau.”

I consider cancelling everything, but then I remember: my curated Instagram aesthetic depends on the perfection of how the Starbucks ceiling lights fall on the latte foam, creating a carefully constructed aesthetic inside a busy coffee shop that not many can afford. After all, my loyal followers need to know what I am drinking this morning right? and it has to match “my vibe.” My emotional stability depends on avocado bagel toast and my self-respect depends on pretending I exercise regularly, complete with a gym mirror selfie on my Instagram story and a revolutionary Pinterest quote that reads, “No Pain, No Gain.” Insta story posted, now I am out of here. If it was not posted on the gram, then did it really happen?

I tell myself I am resisting the system, but clearly, the system is thriving inside me. I complain about overwork while refreshing several shopping app for a new promotion. I groan about the cost of living while tipping generously because, hey capitalism needs validation too. Somewhere between my overpriced coffee, my ignored gym membership, and my existential dread, I realise I am not above capitalism. I am capitalism’s most loyal subscriber. I am capitalism.

It is the bills that get stacked up every day & our “wants” quietly following the cool trends. Food, rent, healthcare, transport, everything comes with a price tag, a deadline, and a quiet threat with a half smiling emoji behind it. One day, a telemarketer lady calls & very gleefully informs me that today is my lucky day, since I was selected to avail a credit card for absolutely free. I ask her back if the bills accrued on this free credit card also will be free? I wonder why she cut the call. Miss one payment and the system reminds you, with 20 SMS & 10 Emails, gently at first and then aggressively, that relaxation is a luxury you have not earned yet. We are not dreaming of yachts on Seychelles with private chefs and caviars or private jets jetting off to Monaco on the weekends anymore. We are dreaming of undisturbed naps, slow mornings, relaxed evenings without this constant need “to do something”, and lives where exhaustion is not the default setting.

And boy, aren’t we all exhausted?

It is the mental exhaustion that gets to us & brings us down out of nowhere.

Like a healthy, young, smiling former office colleague who was bedridden for four months after a sudden, undetected heart attack right in the middle of the office, in front of all of us. It makes me wonder- is this all even worth it?

This is not a call to pretend like work does not matter, it does matter. We all know that, but somewhere along the way, at some point, surviving stopped being a shared thing and turned into a “you problem” and became a personal failure if you could not keep up. If you are tired, you are lazy. If you want less, you are unambitious. If you are struggling, you did not want it badly enough and you did not “hustle” hard enough to succeed. Where are your dark eyes circles to prove otherwise?

Capitalism did not just organise work, it normalised exhaustion and villainised rest, as if the human body, mind, and soul were capable of taking constant hits for twenty four hours straight, especially the mind. At the end of the day, we all just want to switch off our phones and disappear into a remote cave, forever. (side note – please do not follow me into my cave, find your own cave.)

So, when people say they are “tired of capitalism,” what they often mean is this: they are tired of a system that demands constant earning just to justify their existence and be crowned a hustler, the gold standard of a society that measures human worth by material milestones collected before burnout hits. A system where rest must be productive, hobbies must be monetised, and joy needs a side hustle to be taken seriously. We do not actually want a world without money. We want a world where life does not feel like a never-ending performance review. Where worth is not recalculated every quarter. Where exhaustion is not confused with ambition. We want a world where an afternoon nap is not demonised, where logging off at 5:30 pm company time off is normal, and where staying late to impress the bosses is not treated like a victory. This is where I admire the Gen Z.

Millennials, Gen Z, and the Inheritance of Exhaustion

Millennials learned capitalism the hard way. We were raised on the promise that if we studied hard, stayed loyal, and waited our turn, life would eventually soften overtime, but it did not, did it? Instead, it tightened. Salaries stagnated, costs ballooned, and stability became a myth we kept chasing out of habit. We did not reject the system, we internalised it without knowing it has actually consumed us. We burned out quietly, wore exhaustion like a badge of honour, and mistook survival for success. There were times, where I worked even suffering from a fever and the time when I worked in pain even after an unfortunate biking accident, thinking my loyalty will be rewarded, it was not. You are replaceable to a company, no matter how hardworking you are.  

Gen Z watched all of this and said, “absolutely not” but honestly, I agree. They saw their older siblings and cousins work themselves into anxiety disorders and still get priced out of decent lives. They did not fall out of love with capitalism, they never fell in love with it in the first place. So instead of grinding silently, they questioned the rules, the payoff, and the point. They want boundaries, flexibility & meaning to life. They want life to feel like living, not like a deferred reward scheme that you enjoy when you are 70. They want to enjoy the now not the later.

This contrast becomes even sharper when you look at how different generations experienced the world. Millennials grew up adapting to rapid transformations, learning how to participate, comply, and optimise within systems that rewarded active involvement. Gen Z grew up inside those same transformations, globally fluent, digitally much more advanced, and far less willing to tie their worth to output at work. Where one generation adjusted, the other interrogated. Where Millennials asked, “How do I make this work?” Gen Z asks, “Why does this even exist at all?”

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The Oat Milk Problem

But this is where the fantasy starts to wobble.

Because while Gen Z says they want out of capitalism, they also want oat milk, matcha lattes, curated aesthetics, ethical consumption, fast WiFi, international travel, therapy, skincare routines, and the option to opt out whenever things get uncomfortable. They don’t want exploitation, which is totally valid & they don’t want the grind, which is understandable, but they still want the products of the very system they are distancing themselves from.

When Millennials roll their eyes and say, “You can’t hate capitalism and love matcha,” what they are really saying is: One generation adapted to survive & the other is trying to actually live. When Gen Z claps back, what they mean is: we refuse to suffer just because you did. Both are right & both are trapped, neither has figured out how to want less in a world engineered to make wanting feel like an endless loop. Like a Guinea pig’s joy ride on a Ferris wheel, not realising this Ferris wheel is actually inside a box of kid’s room. A world where shopping apps are on sale all year & buying one will get you three free, terms & conditions applied. Are you happy yet with you 10 socks on sale?

So, What Are We Really Asking For?

The real fantasy isn’t a world without money.
It’s a world where survival doesn’t feel like a full-time job.

Where rest isn’t earned through a sudden heart-attack.
Where dignity doesn’t mean materialistic things.
Where existing doesn’t come with constant financial anxiety pinging us reminders.

We are not tired of capitalism itself.
Maybe we are tired of lives so expensive that rest feels like rebellion and wanting less feel radical & going against the system.

I glance at my Tissot watch; it’s midday. “I hate capitalism,” I murmur to myself as I place the white wine spritzer onto the sparkling marbled table and type in the last words of this write up. My eyes dart up from the laptop on our reserved Sunday brunch table as my friends finally arrive, waving with big smiles, their Gucci and Prada perfume announcing their arrival before they do. I wave back a big grin and click my laptop shut. My phone buzzes with a reminder that my Amazon Prime subscription is due, it reminds me to also pay extra for ad free prime viewing experience,  my WiFi bill is overdue, and a push notification that my boutique gym membership is charging me for a Zumba class with a visiting celebrity, I would never attend. The sunlight glints off polished cutlery and crystal glasses, catching the tiny flecks of gold on the menus like a subtle reminder that wealth here is curated, performative and unavoidable.

Capitalism, I have been writing about your horrors all morning, and yet here I am- fully participating, impeccably dressed top to toe, perfectly guilty & fully indulged. Capitalism, you are exhausting, but damn, this chilled Sauvignon Blanc spritzer this sunny Sunday brunch is perfect.

Cheers!

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