they prefer to work in a hospital than in a large technology company

Ce jeudi matin-là, dans un lycée de l’Ohio, le conseiller d’orientation demande aux élèves de terminale où ils se projettent dans dix ans. Quelques mains se lèvent pour « software engineer », « data scientist », « product manager ». Mais la vraie vague arrive après. Infirmier, urgentiste, psychologue hospitalier, technicien de laboratoire, aide-soignant. La moitié de la classe parle de blouses, de couloirs qui sentent le désinfectant, de badge magnétique et de service de nuit.

À la sortie, devant le parking, trois filles comparent leurs projets d’études. L’une renonce à son rêve de Google pour viser un hôpital à Boston. Une autre explique qu’elle veut « un job où les gens vont mieux parce que je suis là ». La troisième résume, sans filtre : « J’ai grandi avec des applis. Mais à l’hôpital, tu touches la vraie vie. » Une statistique circule en fond de décor, presque irréelle. Elle change tout.

Why young Americans are turning their backs on Big Tech

Across the United States, surveys are now converging on the same number: roughly three out of four young people say they would rather work in a hospital than in a big tech company. Not just in medicine as doctors, but in the entire hospital ecosystem. Nursing, administration, tech support, social work, imaging, logistics. The hospital as a universe, not just a building.

For a generation raised on smartphones and streaming, that choice sounds almost upside down. Ten years ago, the dream office had beanbags, kombucha on tap, and open-plan meeting pods named after planets. Today, more teenagers picture night shifts, team radios crackling, and coffee at 3 a.m. in a fluorescent-lit break room. They don’t fantasize about stock options. They talk about stories they’ll tell later.

Look at the admissions data and it becomes very concrete. In several states, applications to nursing programs have jumped by double digits, while some computer science departments report a plateau. A 2024 national youth poll, widely shared in U.S. media, showed about 75% of respondents aged 16–24 saying they’d pick a hospital job over a position at one of the big tech giants if salary were roughly comparable.

Guidance counselors notice the same shift in their offices. A few years ago, students arrived with Pinterest boards filled with Silicon Valley campuses, electric scooters, and hackathon photos. Now they bring screenshots of TikToks filmed from inside ERs, vlogs of medical residents, or behind‑the‑scenes clips of respiratory therapists during a code blue. One New York counselor jokes that her most repeated question is no longer “How do I get to Google?” but “How hard is nursing school really?” Soyons honnêtes : personne ne fait vraiment ça tous les jours.

This new preference didn’t come out of nowhere. It’s the result of a long, visible test in real life: the pandemic. For three years, young people watched two worlds play out almost side by side. On one side, hospital workers walked into overwhelmed ICUs, holding up phones for video calls when families couldn’t visit. On the other, well-paid developers pushed updates from their kitchen tables. Both were necessary. Yet the emotional imprint wasn’t the same.

Many teens saw their parents or neighbors come home exhausted from a night in the ER and thought, *that’s hard, but at least it means something*. They also saw endless headlines about tech layoffs, toxic work cultures, and projects that get killed overnight because a metric dipped. **The security and meaning once associated with Big Tech have started to crack**, while the messy, imperfect, noisy reality of hospital work has begun to look strangely solid — almost heroic, but in a grounded way.

From coding dreams to hospital corridors: what’s really pulling them in

One powerful driver is the craving for visible impact. In a hospital, feedback is immediate. You change a bandage, someone winces less. You bring a blanket, a patient relaxes. You answer a worried question at 2 a.m., a relative finally breathes out. The cause-and-effect line is short and tangible.

Compare that with shipping a feature in a huge tech company. Your code disappears into a product used by millions, sure, but you rarely see the face of the person whose life is better — or worse — because of it. Many young people say they’re tired of optimising click-through rates or “time spent in app”. They want fewer dashboards, more eye contact.

Take Maya, 22, from Colorado. In high school she was a robotics kid, the one who stayed late in the lab and dreamed of Silicon Valley summers. She landed a prestigious tech internship by 19, working remotely during the pandemic. Days blurred together in video calls, Jira tickets, and Slack threads about issues that didn’t feel like real problems.

At the same time, her older brother, a paramedic, was documenting his shifts in short clips — blurred faces, of course, but raw audio and real tension. After six months, Maya quit her internship, enrolled in a fast-track nursing program, and started volunteering in a hospital as a tech. Her friends thought she was “downgrading.” Today, when she wheels an elderly patient to an imaging exam and gets a whispered “thank you,” she says it feels like the promotion she actually wanted.

Underneath stories like Maya’s lies a broader cultural fatigue. The mythology of tech as the ultimate path to changing the world feels worn out. Young people watched apps designed “to connect us” fuel loneliness. They saw platforms promise empowerment while amplifying harassment. They’re not naïve: hospitals carry bureaucracy, burnout, and tragedy. Yet when they compare the trade-offs, the equation shifts.

They talk more openly about mental health, work boundaries, and the need to see a direct line between their effort and someone else’s well-being. **A hospital is chaotic, but the mission is rarely confusing**. Help people get better, or at least suffer less. And for a generation obsessed with authenticity, that clarity may be the biggest recruiting tool the healthcare system never planned.

How to navigate this new reality if you’re choosing your path

If you’re standing at this crossroads — tech campus versus hospital corridor — one small exercise can change everything. Take a blank sheet and divide it into two columns. On the left, list moments when you felt most alive, not just successful. On the right, write down what you actually did in those moments, in very concrete verbs.

Maybe the left side says “helped my granddad manage his meds” or “stayed up late fixing a bug with friends.” The right side might show verbs like “explained,” “calmed,” “built,” “analyzed,” “comforted.” Those verbs are clues. If your list is full of “listened,” “reassured,” “coordinated,” hospital work might align more than you think, even in non-medical roles. If it’s stacked with “designed,” “debugged,” “simulated,” perhaps your place is building the next generation of medical tech — not necessarily abandoning the field entirely.

Once you lean toward one side, reality hits: expectations, money, status, family pressure. Many parents still see Big Tech as the golden ticket and hospital roles as unstable, or emotionally draining. They worry about night shifts, infections, and system overload. They’re not wrong to be concerned; those risks exist.

That’s where honest conversations matter. Talk to people who actually do the jobs you’re considering, not just influencers or recruitment brochures. Ask about a bad day as much as a good one. What did they regret last year? When did they think about quitting? Which moments keep them going? A path filled only with “passion” but no structure will burn you out. A path filled only with “stability” but no inner spark will numb you out.

One ER nurse in Chicago put it this way:

“I don’t wake up every day feeling like a hero. Some mornings I’d rather throw my pager in the river. But at the end of the week, when I think about what I actually did with my time, I rarely feel like it was wasted.”

To weigh your options without getting lost, it helps to frame the decision with a few simple markers:

• What kind of tired do I accept? Physical, emotional, mental, or political?
• How fast do I need financial comfort, and at what cost in meaning?
• Do I want my work impact to be visible face to face, or scalable through systems?
• Which environment will protect my mental health better over ten years, not just one?
• If no one could see my job title on LinkedIn, would I still pick this path?

A generation that wants to heal something — including itself

Three out of four young Americans saying they’d rather work in a hospital than at a tech giant doesn’t mean Big Tech is dead or that everyone will become a nurse. Reality is messier. Many will float between these worlds: building hospital software, analyzing health data, creating tools that quietly support the people at bedsides.

What this shift really reveals is a deeper hunger. A desire to be necessary, not just impressive. To be tired for a reason you can explain in one sentence to a child. To go home with stories that are heavy, yes, but also full of faces and names instead of just tickets and metrics. For a generation bombarded by crises — climate, political, economic — healing as a theme has quietly moved to the center.

Some want to heal bodies. Others want to heal systems. Many, honestly, are trying to heal parts of themselves. The hospital, with all its flaws, has become a symbol of that work. The tech campus, with its glass walls and nap pods, suddenly looks a bit like yesterday’s future. The real question is not only where they will work, but what kind of society they’re telling us they want by choosing the ward over the open space.

Point clé	Détail	Intérêt pour le lecteur
Changement de rêve collectif	3 jeunes Américains sur 4 préfèrent l’hôpital à une grande entreprise tech	Permet de situer son propre choix dans une tendance de fond
Recherche d’impact visible	Les métiers hospitaliers offrent un retour immédiat sur l’aide apportée	Aide à comprendre pourquoi certains jobs “rapportent” plus de sens que d’autres
Outil de décision concret	Comparer ses verbes d’action préférés pour orienter son parcours	Donne une méthode simple pour clarifier ses envies pro sans jargon

FAQ :

• Does this mean tech careers are over for young people?Not at all. Many still choose tech, but the “default dream” has shifted. The key change is that hospital and care work are now seen as equally aspirational, not just backup options.
• Are hospital jobs really more meaningful than tech jobs?Meaning is personal. Hospital roles offer very visible human impact, while tech can create large-scale change. The question is which type of impact feels more real to you.
• What about burnout in hospitals?Burnout is a serious risk, especially after the pandemic. That said, many young workers say that having a clear mission and strong team bonds helps them cope better than in some corporate environments.
• Can I combine tech skills and hospital work?Yes. Healthcare IT, medical devices, telemedicine platforms, and hospital data analysis all sit at the crossroads of tech and care. You don’t have to choose a single universe forever.
• How do I test if hospital work is really for me?Look for volunteering, shadowing days, internships, or entry-level support roles. Being near patients, even briefly, reveals a lot about your comfort level and motivation — far more than reading job descriptions.