The Backlash When Influencers “Sell Out”: Why Audiences Punish Creators Who Leave Their Day Jobs
The allure of quitting your 9-to-5 to pursue a career as a content creator is strong, but for some, the transition is met with surprising hostility. A growing number of influencers are discovering that abandoning traditional employment can trigger a fierce backlash from their audiences, raising questions about authenticity, relatability, and the unspoken contract between creators and their followers.
For content creators, courting the internet’s wrath is as easy as putting in your two-week notice. At least, that’s the lesson that Connor Hubbard, the creator behind the viral vlog account Hubs.life_, is learning right now. Hubbard, a 30-year-old husband and father living in Dallas, Texas, built a TikTok following of nearly 1 million by documenting the monotony of his life as a senior analyst for a Fortune 500 company. His videos, characterized by a blank stare and discordant soundtrack accompanying mundane tasks like removing his laptop or walking his dog, resonated with viewers in 2024. As he explained to GQ that year, “A lot of what you see today is…luxurious lifestyles…selling get rich quick schemes. And I hadn’t seen a guy posting his normal, ordinary life. It just seemed to get a lot of traction. Because I think most of the world is working, they have to work for a living.”
However, when Hubbard announced in February that he was leaving his corporate job to focus on content creation full-time, the response was overwhelmingly negative. He quickly became a target of criticism, accused of a “rug-pull” and relying solely on TikTok for income. (Hubbard has since turned off comments and declined to comment on the situation.) This incident, however, has illuminated a larger paradox within the influencer ecosystem: the stigma surrounding leaving a stable job. Several creators who previously held traditional employment have told Rolling Stone that this stigma isn’t based on any formal rules, but rather on an intangible sense of expectation. The creator economy allows individuals to monetize their online presence, but audiences sometimes seem resentful when that attention translates into financial independence.
The experience of Callie Wilson, a 27-year-old from New Hampshire, mirrors Hubbard’s. While attending Brooklyn Law School, Wilson cultivated a TikTok following with videos showcasing self-care amidst the stresses of academic life. “I wanted to not make it look like this whole Legally Blonde perfect thing,” she explained. Upon graduating and passing the bar, she announced her decision to forgo a legal career and pursue content creation full-time. “I knew people would be mad, but I didn’t expect the amount of backlash,” Wilson said, noting she lost 30,000 followers in the aftermath. “It sent me into a spiral.” She realized that audiences felt invested in a specific narrative – her becoming a lawyer – and her deviation from that path was perceived as a betrayal.
“The hardest part of being a content creator is that people feel like they know you, like they’ve gone [with you on the journey],” Wilson observed. “The [path] that makes sense is you go to law school, you pass the bar, you become a lawyer. So when I didn’t become a lawyer, people went ‘Wait, this isn’t the storyline.’”
Fashion creator Miranda Sanchez believes that much of the anger stems from a perceived loss of connection. Audiences also recognize their role in a creator’s success, acknowledging that their engagement – comments, shares, likes – directly contributes to profitability. Sanchez recently left her job in social work to pursue content creation full-time. “People love you when you’re on the rise…and your content is blowing up,” she said. “And then once you finally find success from it, people are like, ‘Oh, no. That’s not what we want.’ It’s a lot easier to root for the underdog.”
Eni Popoola, a lifestyle creator who transitioned from a career as a corporate lawyer, echoes this sentiment. “There’s a narrative that when creators leave their nine-to-five, they lose credibility,” she stated. Popoola was initially apprehensive about being perceived as a “sell out,” but her transparent communication with her audience and focus on self-care helped her navigate the transition successfully.
Audiences appear more accepting of creators who leave traditional jobs for reasons related to mental health, work-life balance, or family needs. Popoola’s switch was framed as prioritizing her well-being, while Wilson’s announcement was negatively impacted by a recent vacation post celebrating her law school graduation – a perceived disconnect between her actions and her decision. Sanchez’s departure from a demanding but fulfilling job in social work was largely seen as “well deserved.” In contrast, the negative reactions to Hubbard’s decision were amplified by the fact that he cited his desire to be a stay-at-home dad, a reason his followers seemingly didn’t deem sufficient.
Brooke Erin Duffy, an associate professor of communication at Cornell University, suggests that the key lies in perceived authenticity. “Part of the draw of this field since its emergence is this promise of authenticity that is a departure from mainstream media,” Duffy explained. “Why would I pay attention to these individuals when there are celebrities or actors? Because these people are quote-unquote, ‘just like me.’ So much of this economy is predicated on authenticity. And so the question that emerges at a moment of job transition is whether people are doing this for ‘right reasons.’”
Tim Chiusano, a former VP in advertising sales with 1.1 million TikTok followers, offers another perspective. He found success by posting content that wasn’t relatable – depicting a fast-paced, affluent lifestyle. “My videos [say] you’re not going to lose your soul by growing up…[Adulthood] is not going to completely destroy you,” he said. “The extreme side of it is that we’re all here kind of supporting each other in this lifestyle. And then once [your life] becomes too cool, then I’m not sure what your value is to me.” Chiusano purposefully avoided his comment section for the first year as a full-time creator, and his follower count remained stable. He believes that much of the backlash stems from misplaced emotion. “Everybody’s gonna fumble when they make some sort of career transition, especially when you make one that’s in public,” he said. “Unless people are doing things that are intentionally harmful…getting a little bit of grace can go a long way.”
Ultimately, the story of Connor Hubbard and others highlights the complex and often contradictory expectations placed upon content creators. While the creator economy promises autonomy and financial freedom, it also demands a constant negotiation of authenticity and relatability – a delicate balance that, when disrupted, can quickly turn an audience’s support into scorn.
