I’ll never be the boss's pet
What to do when sucking up is not part of your DNA
By Yvonne C. Claes
I’ve never been part of the “in” crowd.
I’ve never been popular or the boss’s pet.
Instead, I’ve always been a loner, the one who sits near the chosen ones but never next to them during staff meetings.
I’m the strange person colleagues don’t quite understand. I’m greeted with an awkward “good morning” at the start of my workday; actual conversation, I suppose, is reserved for those less weird than me.
I work Monday-Friday and rarely exchange more than a handful of words with my bosses or co-workers during that time. I come in, do the job to the best of my ability, and hit the doors at precisely “contract time.” Not a minute more, nor a minute less than what is outlined in my employment agreement.
I wasn’t always like this.
When I was younger, I tried hard to fit in. I schmoozed with the best of them. I attempted to gain favor with the boss by engaging in small talk, volunteering for extra duties, and being flexible whenever my supervisor deemed it necessary.
But I got nothing in return. I wasn’t singled out as an ideal employee, wasn’t given raises for my extra efforts, and I wasn’t invited to after-work functions with the “it” crowd.
Not that I blame anyone.
I have come to realize that I’m terrible at hobnobbing. Correction: I suck at it, bigtime….
Brown nosing isn’t worth it
Not that I don’t occasionally take a stab at schmoozing. But when I do now — at the ripe age of 54 — I feel like I need a shower afterward.
Sucking up is just not in my DNA. I wish it was.
But I have a very hard time being phony. I fear I come off as insincere, because well, I am being insincere.
I have a difficult time smiling and making my eyes widen when a colleague shares with me the latest pedagogical trend in education or shows me a picture of their kid for the third time.
“Oh, that’s so awesome!” I hear myself reply. But in my head, I question if I sounded genuine enough.
Did I overdo it? Could they tell I really didn’t give a shit?
I start to worry my falseness was obvious. And if a particular colleague doesn’t initiate conversation again, I ruminate on why that might be the case.
Maybe they thought I was being sarcastic. You are known for using irony, after all.
Self-doubt then takes over. I become physically exhausted from my mental musings.
As a result, I’ve concluded that ass-kissing isn’t worth it.
I gotta be me…
In today’s corporate climate, being an individual is a work hazard. Bosses like obedient drones. They don’t like employees who ask questions.
That’s my biggest problem. I ask questions. Sometimes, lots of them.
I don’t do it to be difficult or to make people uncomfortable. My inquiries are the result of my journalism degree and my work as a professional newspaper reporter for more than a decade.
I was trained at an early age to ask questions. It’s part of how I’m wired.
When faced with a new initiative, my mind automatically kicks into overdrive: Why are we changing how we do things? Does the research support this new program (and more than just one or two studies that your boss cherry-picked)? What’s wrong with what we are doing now? Didn’t we just change to the current program two years ago?
I used to be naïve enough to ask these questions out loud. Now, I sit back and watch the faces of my colleagues, and damn, are they good!
Not a hint of frustration crawls across their facades. There are poker faces all ‘round.
Since I am a walking billboard, I look down or away. Or I’ll sip my coffee to hide any contempt that might have subconsciously curled the corner of my lips.
I try to ensure my body language doesn’t give me away either. I sit stock still, making sure my foot isn’t frantically tapping out a Morse code of irritation.
The struggle is real
I often ask myself why I should care about fitting in. After all, I’m not in high school anymore.
I struggle with the thought that knowledge, effectiveness, and work ethic should count for more than how much I cozy up to the boss. Besides, most bosses are mediocre, and they make sure not to surround themselves with anyone who can outshine them.
Mediocrity begets mediocrity.
Supervisors surround themselves with like-minded people, and they don’t want you throwing thought bombs into their neatly ordered world. To do so makes them question themselves, their own motivations, and their ability to think originally.
Most would rather be surrounded by yes men and women, not some questioning Quasimodo.
A four-letter word
And god forbid you say, “No.” “No” is a four-letter word to bosses, one from which you can never come back.
Early in my teaching career, I said “yes” a lot: Yes to advising the student newspaper for a pittance, yes to volunteering for committees, yes to being a union representative.
But I soon realized going above and beyond would only garner tepid praise if you’re lucky. It never results in a commensurate amount of extra money in your paycheck.
Worse, your boss quickly forgets those many times you put your job above your personal life and will expect you to volunteer whenever their next great initiative needs a human sacrifice.
I now say “no” so often that my bosses and colleagues rarely approach me when they need someone to toil beyond the workday.
Younger staff — and even some my own age — marvel at my ability to decline extra work so effortlessly. And some express envy that I am often ignored when it comes to asking to contribute additional sweat.
Trust me, the expectation still hangs in the air like a miasma, stinking up the whole place. I have just chosen to not let the stench bother me as much.
No, I’d rather sit in my corner, alone, unnoticed by bosses and colleagues alike.
©Yvonne C. Claes, 2022. I own this content. You can share my column, but make sure my name is left on it. If you don’t, be prepared to deal with my copyright attorney. Thanks!
