When the Office is a Quiet Place: Why We Need Compassion & Humanity in the Workplace

Have you ever been given “the silent treatment?”

Many of us, probably as children, have had some sort of experience with this tactic, where one person ignores and withholds attention from another person in order to make that other person feel bad.

But what happens when we, as adults, are on the receiving end of the silent treatment? What about when this happens in the workplace?

In my former workplace, the managers once distributed a 360-degree survey asking for our candid feedback. The instructions we received stressed the importance of our honest feedback, and that our responses would not be used against us.

In the few months before, my boss’ boss held a mediation between my boss and me in response to the situation I described previously. After, my boss continued to bully me. It was clear the attempt to mediate was not successful.

When the 360-degree survey for the boss’ boss arrived in my inbox, I saw it as an opportunity to provide constructive feedback on how he could have handled my conflict with my boss in a more productive way.

However, almost as soon as the boss’ boss received the results from the survey, the nature of my relationship with him deteriorated dramatically.

I soon was consistently ignored not only by my boss, but now her boss, too.

One of the clearest examples was when I was featured in an article in the Star Tribune, which was never acknowledged, despite the fact I had included it as a “highlight of the week” on my one-to-one meeting agenda with my boss.

Then came an organization-wide celebration of people’s employment milestones. As I was about to complete 15 years there, I waited for my name to be called to come forward. However, as the announcements and congratulatory handshakes progressed from the 10-year recipients to the 15-year recipients and then on to the 20-year recipients, my name was never called.

The organizational silent treatment wasn’t limited to my personal events and milestones; it extended to my professional work, as well.

During the week leading up to one of my largest programs of the year, my co-planner found herself at home for several days with a high fever. The plan for the event called for my co-planner and I to arrive at 6:30 a.m. to begin setting up.

First at the team meeting three days before the event and then again via email one day before, I asked for help, which would require others on the team to arrive earlier than their normal 8:30 a.m. start times.

My boss finally acknowledged my call for help, responding with an email at 7:33 a.m. on the day of the event that she was on her way. She was the last person on the team to arrive.

Day after day, I fell deeper and deeper into depression. I became more and more distrustful of the management of the organization. I spent most of my time by myself in my office with the door almost completely closed, just hoping that somebody would see what I was going through and speak up.

Dr. Sandra Robinson, author of a 2014 University of British Columbia research study, told Science Daily that, “Ostracism actually leads people to feel more helpless [than bullying], like they’re not worthy of any attention at all.”

I certainly know how painful that kind of treatment can be.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t alone.

A colleague in the organization later confided to me, “Nobody at work talks to me anymore… I am really just looking for a place that does not treat me like I am lesser than they are because I’m entry level… I also get in my head a little bit because as I have been applying places, I have been getting nervous about leaving because at least I know how the people here work. I can deal with them. What if, at the next place, it is worse. I don’t like that I constantly think that.”

Can you hear the internalized pain that is inflicted when people at work treat others this way?

In 2009, Gallup found that 25% of a random sample of 1,003 U.S. employees were “ignored” at work, and the results were staggering.

The lowest levels of engagement, however, were reserved not for those whose managers focused on their weaknesses, but for the 25% of people who were ignored by their managers, where 19 out of 20 workers were disengaged.

For contrast, if a manager focuses on a person’s strengths, the odds of that person being disengaged at work are just 1 out of 100.

In his book, “the Four Stages of Psychological Safety,” author Timothy R. Clark describes how abusive this type of behavior can be. “I worked with another leader who asserted dominance through an arbitrary pattern of giving and revoking inclusion safety. You were in his good graces one day, out the next, respected then neglected, heard then ignored, fawned over then forgotten, coached then coerced, healed then hurt. Let’s be clear: head games are a form of abuse in which one human toys with another. That pattern of interaction is moral cowardice at its finest” (2020, p. 35).

Clearly, our workplaces need leaders who are good humans, not just good workers.

Policies, such as “open door” policies and 360-degree feedback surveys, are not nearly enough, and they may only give a false impression of the presence of psychological safety.

These types of approaches to management all too often result in environments where “no news is good news,” where the absence of critical feedback is interpreted as proof that everything is OK. In reality, it may be evidence of a environment full of fear where feedback is met with retaliation or even the refusal to provide for basic human needs, such as belongingness and respect.

A former colleague summarized this well when they said, “I am just disappointed in the antics… and the fact that folks, including many we know, are scared to speak up. The only reason I haven’t (spoken up) publicly is cause of fear and continued retaliation… I am more disappointed in my colleagues for not standing by my side…”

Clark observed, “When we’re snubbed, ignored, silenced, brushed off, ostracized, or humiliated; when we’re bullied, harassed, or shamed; when we’re scorned, passed over, or neglected, those experiences are not neutral events. They’re demoralizing, lead to alienation, and activate the pain centers of the brain,” (2020, p. 4).

So, what then, is the cure?

Courage.

Courage is compassion in action. Compassion is the ability, desire, and effort to connect with others with authenticity and humanity.

In our busy workplaces today, it is easy to focus on our own work and to stay in our own lanes. But we need to go out of the way to connect with others. The roots of the word compassion mean “to endure together” or “to suffer together.” Compassion, therefore, is the deepest desire to not only see the situation somebody is in, but to be united with that person in that situation.

Compassion is the connective tissue of humanity. If we choose to disconnect, we are choosing to ignore others’ humanity and to inflict pain on them.

When we choose to connect with others, there may be risk involved. We may risk the discomfort of not knowing how to help the other person. We may even risk rejection and retaliation of our own.

But by choosing courage, compassion, and connection, we demonstrate that we are in this together, and evidence shows that together is better.

If you have your own story of a toxic workplace you are comfortable sharing, you can do so anonymously or confidentially (if you choose to share your name) here: https://bit.ly/ToxicCulturesAtWork