When you take my sunshine away

Written by Leda Glyptis
27th April 2023

You know, I thought it was a weakness for so long.

The world is divided into radiators and drains

A weakness in me, that is.

The fact that some people leave me feeling hollowed out, drained of trust and warmth.

I have always thought of this feeling, the fact that I experience it often in the workplace, as being a deficit in me. Letting people who were difficult, unkind, uncaring, aggressive, passive-aggressive or manipulative get to me. Permitting their perfidy to get under my skin. Allowing small, jarring but often inconsequential encounters to matter to me in a lingering way. In the grand scheme of things and all that.

I always thought it was a weakness, the way I am left feeling by all those people who say ‘you should have’ and cc their boss in an email, rather than saying ‘we could have’ or ‘next time’. Those people who throw you under the bus for not having done something they forgot to ask for. Those people who smirk and backstab. Who conveniently forget.

You know who I am talking about.

“The world is divided into radiators and drains.”

That’s what my lift buddy, Pete, used to tell me.

Pete and I used to meet in the lifts several times a week for years. It became a joke. We should stop meeting this way.

He worked on the 31st floor of my building: two above me. We literally only ever chatted in the lift. We never did stop meeting this way. But some people will dispense help, warmth and wisdom at any provocation. Even in the inhospitable environment of a big office building lift.

Such was Pete.

“Some people emanate warmth,” he said. “Some suck it out of you. I don’t know why or how or who hurt them when they were small, but I know it happens. Seek radiators. Avoid drains. See ya later.”

It was my stop. My floor. Out I go.

So I think about Pete when I think about the colleagues who have left me feeling unsettled and bereft over the years. Hollow and bothered.

Who are they? They are the liars and the cheats, sure.

But mostly they are the undramatic folks who neither lie nor cheat per se.

But neither will they proactively tell the truth. They won’t stop something from breaking even when they see it coming. They won’t stop their teams from behaving badly even when they see it happening. They won’t protect the business or their colleagues from an oncoming problem. They will simply make sure they are not in the crosshairs when it strikes.

The people who defend an error because they were the ones who made it, or condemn one because their involvement is not visible. The people who will say one thing in writing and another in person. The people who will punch down and manage up. The people who will behave only when there are witnesses who matter to their bonus or career progression.

You know these people.

And the thing is, they are pretty straightforward to manage. We all know what we need to do. And it’s not pleasant but it’s known. And you’d think it’s not the end of the world…

Yet dealing with these people takes a huge toll on me. Disproportionate, really.

And I don’t like feeling like this.

Plus, I like solving problems. Not because I like puzzles, but because I don’t like living with problems. So, I always want to address this feeling and the things that cause it. My urge is to fix it. Make the feeling go away by addressing the context and situation and problem.

But nothing ever wipes it all away, does it? Even if you solve the issue. Address the problem. You are still left feeling a little hollow.

Because whatever you just set straight was a rather unnecessary aggravation. And whatever you did in this situation, it won’t protect you from this type of thing reoccurring with this type of person.

And for a long time I thought that letting it get to me was a weakness in me. The fact that I let this manageable aggravation get under my skin so much.

But something shifted in me recently.

I don’t resent the feeling anymore.

I don’t like it. But I don’t resent this feeling of hollowness that such encounters leave in their wake.

I know it for what it is now: an early warning system. A red flag. A memory of knowledge. I know what people like that can do to me… to a team… to the organisation.

The insidious slow erosion of camaraderie. The neglect that sets into the spaces between teams. Because why would you reach out across a fence to be met with this type of behaviour?

I know this feeling for what it is now. Not a weakness. Not something to solve for. But an early warning signal like the smell of burning. The first wisp of smoke on the horizon. Sulphur in the air.

I know to resist the urge to seek to solve for the root cause of the feeling.

The feeling doesn’t need solving.

The feeling itself is information. The feeling tells you that you know your interlocutor for what they are and you should keep observing closely.

Plus, I am beginning to wonder whether leaving people feeling hollow is a battle tactic. Non-aggressive, but not exactly the work of a pacifist. A hollow shell can crumble easily, you see. Without a fight.

But you are not hollow. Getting a hollowness in your stomach when you are surrounded by what my friend Pete called ‘drains’ doesn’t hollow you out unless you let it.

So don’t let it.

Welcome it, unpleasant as it is, as a warning.

A warning to protect yourself from being hollowed out through repeated exposure… a warning to protect your team from what you know folks like that are capable of… and a warning to observe closely how the wider organisation responds to this type of behaviour. Observe and reflect: what’s the collective noun for a multitude of folks like this? And what is their collective impact?

And… most important of all… do you want to stick around to find out?

#LedaWrites

Leda Glpytis