I wanted to like you. At first your tough-talking, no-nonsense attitude was refreshing. In our first meeting you chose to take me down a peg or two: “You may be well qualified, but you’ll need to prove yourself.” I liked you – I was eager to rise to the challenge.
But it soon became clear you were a monster. I watched you humiliate your leadership team at the annual conference. You set up meetings for employees to voice concerns, only to then use their complaints against them. You gave the most senior people menial tasks and then criticised them, shattering their confidence. You changed your mind about the company’s investment priorities at a moment’s notice. You shouted. Then you shouted louder.
But the inappropriate behaviour didn’t end there. At the Christmas party, you stroked the interns’ leg without their consent. You also lie, repeatedly. You’ve asked staff to spy on other staff and report back. No one wants to do it – but we all do because we’re terrified. Occasionally, you crack a joke, and everyone laughs as though they find it funny.
I soon started to become angry. In our second meeting you told me that you’d become bored, that no job was safe and asked me to pitch to you my position in the company. I was forced to ask for the job I already had, despite the fact I’d been successful in my role for a year. Why do I deserve this?
What now? Your profits are declining rapidly and the reputation of the company is in tatters. We have undergone several major restructures. The business you run is failing.
What upsets me most is that you have created an army of monsters in your image. Your junior staff see how you behave and emulate you. They are evolving into professional trolls, because they think this is the way a boss in advertising needs to behave.
According to one study, one in five chief executives are clinical psychopaths. The combination of charm, risk-taking and a lack of empathy can make people appear to be “strong” leaders, but I don’t think your behaviour is strong.
I accept that you won’t change, regardless of how many complaints you field from HR. But I refuse to accept that this is how my work life must be, and I refuse to imitate you.
- Some details have been changed to protect the author’s identity
- Would you like to write an anonymous letter to your boss for this series? Get in touch by emailing careers.desk@theguardian.com
