A humorous look at the personalities, performances, and petty theatrics that turn corporate life into a stage play nobody auditioned for.
Written and created by Dennis Harvell
A Field Guide to Corporate Hypocrisy | Entry No. 1
For Adults Who Show Up to Work, Not Children Who Need a Playpen
After decades in the corporate world, I’ve learned one universal truth:
the workplace is not a family — it’s a bus stop.
People come, people go, and some of them sit way too close.
Yet every time someone leaves, here comes the farewell email novella — twelve paragraphs of “I’ll miss you all so much,” “This place has been my home,” and “We’re like family.” Meanwhile, the person hitting “send” is already blocking half the company on LinkedIn before the email finishes loading.
Let’s stop pretending.
Corporate life is a rotating cast of characters, each one performing their role in the grand theater of workplace hypocrisy. And after watching this show long enough, I’ve identified the main species.
Allow me to introduce them.
The Transactional Bonders
These are the coworkers who suddenly act like your long‑lost cousin the moment they need something. They show up with warmth, jokes, and “Hey, buddy!” energy — but only when there’s a favor on the table.
Need access to a system?
Need you to fix something they broke?
Need you to “quickly” save their job?
They’re all over you like family.
But the moment they get what they want?
Poof.
You’re yesterday’s news.
The warmth evaporates.
The “friendship” dissolves faster than HR’s promises.
They don’t want connection.
They want access.
And you? You’re just the keycard.
The Performative Peers
These are the coworkers who act like your biggest supporters — but only when there’s an audience.
In public, they’re clapping like they’re at the Apollo.
In private, they can’t remember your name.
They’ll hype you up in meetings, shout you out in group chats, and act like you’re best friends at the holiday party. But catch them one‑on‑one and suddenly they’re colder than the office AC in January.
Their support is a performance.
Their enthusiasm is rehearsed.
Their loyalty is for show.
They’re not teammates — they’re background actors waiting for their close‑up.
The Boundary‑Blurrers
Ah yes, the “we’re a family” crowd.
The ones who use emotional language to erase professional boundaries.
“We’re all in this together.”
“We’re like siblings here.”
“Family helps family.”
Translation:
“I need you to do my work, stay late, and not complain.”
These are the people who guilt you into overworking, then gaslight you into thinking you’re selfish for wanting a life outside the office. They make you feel naïve for expecting fairness and noble for burning yourself out.
You know this pattern because you lived it.
You were made to feel responsible for everyone’s stress.
You were pressured into carrying more than your share.
You were convinced that boundaries were betrayal.
Boundary‑Blurrers don’t want connection.
They want compliance.
The Corporate Sycophants
These are the ladder‑climbers who treat managers like royalty and HR like a spiritual advisor.
They laugh too hard at unfunny jokes.
They praise mediocre leadership like it’s Nobel‑Prize‑worthy.
They orbit power like it’s the sun.
Their entire identity is built on strategic flattery.
They don’t build relationships — they build ladders.
I never played that game.
I kept my integrity intact.
I took the long road, not the shortcut through someone else’s ego.
And because I didn’t participate, I saw the whole performance clearly — the masking, the manipulation, the toxicity disguised as ambition.
Sycophants rise fast, but they rot the environment as they go.
The Emotional Manipulators
These are the coworkers who weaponize feelings to keep you compliant.
“You’re the only one I can count on.”
“I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”
“We’re a team — don’t leave me hanging.”
It sounds like vulnerability.
It’s actually control.
They guilt you into working harder.
They make you feel inadequate for setting boundaries.
They convince you that you can’t do better elsewhere.
And before you know it, you’re staying in a job you hate, tolerating treatment you’d never accept from anyone outside of work.
You know this pattern intimately.
You were made to feel naïve for expecting fairness.
You were gaslit into doubting your instincts.
You were pressured into believing that burnout was loyalty.
But here’s the truth:
The manipulation only works on people who care.
And that’s why I was targeted — not because I was weak, but because I was strong enough to carry more than my share.
THE BOTTOM LINE
Fake people don’t want friendship.
They want access.
And if they can’t get it the right way, they’ll use you as the tool to accomplish it.
THE FINAL WORD
The workplace is not a family.
It never was.
It never will be.
Calling it one is emotional manipulation.
It blurs boundaries.
It excuses exploitation.
It convinces adults to tolerate behavior they’d never accept anywhere else.
I wasn’t hired to be anyone’s sibling, therapist, or parent.
I was hired to do a job — with adults, not children.
Team‑building is often just a disguised trust‑extraction exercise.
Forced bonding is a strategy, not a sentiment.
And the people you see between 9 and 5 are exactly that — people you see between 9 and 5.
The moment you understand this, everything becomes clearer.
You stop feeling guilty.
You stop being manipulated.
You stop confusing exploitation with belonging.
And you start reclaiming your time, your peace, and your self‑respect.
