The email crosses my desk at 3 p.m.. “Amazing chocolate cake in the coffee room. Going fast.”
Giggling like school kids, executives in suits, administrative assistants in high heels and technical support staff in torn jeans head for the hallways. It might as well be recess, the way we carry on.
When it comes to workplace relationships, there is nothing I have come to enjoy more than these impromptu meetings with fellow workers around the water cooler, especially on Valentine’s Day. We ooh and ahh over the home-made brownies decorated with red sprinkles, the chocolate covered pretzels dipped in pink frosting and heart-shaped candies and cookies.
But what I relish most is the sense of camaraderie—of taking a moment out of the everyday pressure to perform in order to enjoy the relaxed companionship of my co-workers. We gossip a little; inquire about each others’ spouses and children, plans for Valentine’s Day and the weekend.
If I were to wax sentimental, I would say that the laden platters of communal goodies are but a tangible expression of what is really going on here. For the truth of the matter is that I’m something of a late bloomer when it comes to feeling the love at work.
What changed? Simply this. After a lifetime of running my own business, I’d taken a job at somebody else’s company. I was no longer the boss. Like my co-workers, I now had a boss. And that, as it turns out, made all the difference.
I’m not saying that for all those decades as captain of my corporate ship, my staff didn’t respect, admire or care about me. But let’s just say that it was a steep growth curve on my part to accept that otherwise exuberant conversations would sometimes turn suddenly very quiet when I, the boss, entered the room. When staff decided to lunch together or party together outside work—and I wasn’t invited to join in—I had to learn not to take it personally.
It wasn’t until ten years ago that I fully understood the price that I’d paid in exchange for my long stint in custody of positional power. That was when I took a sabbatical to pursue my Ph.D. at Vanderbilt studying adult development and ritual studies, subjects that had long fascinated me. Suddenly, the woman who had been the boss now had advisors, professors, mentors and teaching assistants—many of whom were decades younger than me.
Best of all, I had fellow students. I was one of them, alternately gossiping, commiserating and occasionally anointing those who yielded more power than I in the educational hierarchy with generously-administered praise. One day, huddled in the corner of the commons room, laughing with my fellow students over doughnuts, I realized that positional power was highly overrated. When I returned to work, I would do so as a fellow employee.
Three jobs later, I have never regretted this decision. No longer the Lone Ranger, I am now one of the gang. Bonding with teammates over chocolate-shaped hearts is worth a thousand corner offices to me. And while some may observe that on some levels, it may appear that I’ve been living my career backwards, I’ve got the perfect response. “No,” I’d say. “Not backwards. Inside out.”