Diversity but not like that

Welcome to The Way We Work: Tales from The Office

Dear Readers…
(in my Lady Whistledown voice)

To recap: I told y’all I had to reimagine this channel into something meaningful and impactful. Sure, the prior drops were full of info, but to be honest, it was a lot of work and I wasn’t being as efficient with creativity and storytelling—two areas I think we need to see more of in the workplace. Our stories at work matter.

So, The Way We Work: Tales from the Office has been born.

These are fictionalized stories of actual events—either things I’ve experienced or stories others have shared—reimagined by me so you can get a peek behind the corporate curtain. Or, if you’re already behind it, maybe you’ll catch a glimpse of a part of the stage you haven’t seen before.

I hope you enjoy them as they marry the two gifts I have: impactful work and writing.

Diversity, but Not Like That

Lisette, for once in her life, was shocked into being speechless as Graham said this to her, rubbing his forehead and diverting eye contact. He also had a habit of digging under his armpit—but that’s something she wished the whole team hadn’t noticed.

Let’s go back. It’s just after the pandemic. Let’s say early 2021. Firmly into the uncomfortable switch from office to home office. The whole company had been surprisingly resilient in the shift. The People Team had done a great job organizing tools and posting best practices on the intranet—virtual meeting norms, remote behaviors, all of it.

Up until now, they only used virtual meetings to connect offices or meet with external vendors they didn’t want to entertain for long. But now, it was the standard for everything: team meetings, company all-hands, 1:1s, interviews, brainstorms—any time a face was deemed necessary, they were on a virtual call.

As someone who oversaw the small but mighty People Team, Lisette was so proud of how her team had responded. But she was also deeply concerned about the toll everything was taking on employees. It didn’t take a psychologist to see it: they were now in each other’s homes constantly—caregivers, roommates, couples, pets, introverts, extroverts, neurodiverse folks, clean homes, crowded homes, busy homes, quiet homes, expensive furniture, no furniture, sunlight, no windows, houses, trailers, apartments—they were getting it all.

Where once an employee could craft their persona at work and leave their real life at home, if they wanted to—the line had been blurred.

Her actor friends had told her that auditioning virtually was the worst. Everything depended on human connection, and now they were doing monologues to a flat screen that gave nothing back. Lisette thought about that a lot—why would work be any different? And how would this start showing up as a problem?

Which leads us to this moment.

Her boss, the COO, had just come out of an Executive Team meeting (one she wasn’t part of), where it was apparently decided that employees who weren’t sharing their screens were disengaged—and therefore needed to either be talked to or watched.

Graham had said this flippantly, as he stared out at the near-perfect golf course lawn visible behind him. She thought for a moment it was a spoof she saw on social media. Then he stood up mid-call to grab lemonade from the outdoor bar cart in view of his camera.

They weren’t close. Despite her efforts, she knew he wasn’t the sort of leader who believed in the transformation of HR and People strategies. In fact, he was only her boss reluctantly—it was the only way he could become COO, he had been told. So he did it. His real joy was Finance. It was easy for him: numbers, a quiet team, low drama, clean rules.

The People Team was a mystery to him.

Despite Lisette’s best efforts, he often responded to her updates with skepticism and a not-so-subtle desire to be the real subject matter expert—even though he knew nothing about HR. And did nothing to learn.

Lisette inhaled, counted to five, held, exhaled. A technique from her therapist for moments of duress.

He droned on. She caught the end of his thought:

As a non-white woman, she knew she had to say this in a very specific way. Not because Graham was a racist—but because he had demonstrated bias in the past, repeated stereotypes (she’d addressed them, but he’d gotten immediately defensive), and genuinely thought of himself as astute. But he rarely asked others what they thought.

She knew he was prone to labeling her as “passionate,” someone who wore her heart on her sleeve. Not his style.

She tried to speak like they were colleagues at the Harvard Club. But by the look on his face, it didn’t land.

She could feel her heart racing. Harvard Club tone: gone.

She thought about the employee who had just started their gender transition and hadn’t told their team. The mom stressed out by the formula shortage. The intern who’d returned to the Philippines before the pandemic and was now working from a crowded family home—who had asked for better headphones. Graham knew about all of them.

Graham didn’t look at her.

The sun was shining on his forehead and glasses. He dug under his armpit and looked distracted.

She may have blacked out then.

Lisette had learned that being an executive didn’t mean you had the answers. Executives weren’t Mt. Olympus residents, though some acted like it. They were just people.

Some were faking it.
Some were terrified their insecurities would be exposed.
Some wanted the power and money but not the responsibility.
Some were hell-bent on preserving their own traumatic work cycles.
Some had no idea how outdated they sounded.
Some wanted to do the right thing but didn’t know what that was.

Lisette smiled. Inhaled. Counted.

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