I spent 35 years in corporate, navigating boardrooms, system rollouts, and office politics. But one of the most challenging experiences of my career was not a complex IT project or a software migration-it was working under a manager I never met in person.
Our IT department was small-just four people. My role? Writing the Lotus Notes systems for the entire Middle East and Africa team. At that stage, I reported into Dubai. My manager was an Arab woman, and our only interactions were over the phone or on Teams.
On paper, we should have been able to work together seamlessly. We both spoke English, after all. But in reality, our accents made communication difficult. Add to that the layers of cultural differences, and we were doomed from the start.
She would ask me a question, and while I was mid-sentence answering, she would talk over me, dismissing my input. In my culture, that is an act of disrespect. On the other hand, I would complete my tasks independently, without consulting her for approval. In her culture, that was a sign of disrespect. Neither of us intended to offend the other, but intent and impact are two very different things.
What started as a small misunderstanding snowballed into something far bigger. Slowly, I withdrew. I kept quiet in meetings. I stopped offering insights. I agreed with whatever she said, just to avoid confrontation. And she, in turn, tightened her grip-micromanaging, adding more and more to my workload until I felt like I was drowning.
I would go home in tears, questioning my abilities, wondering what I had done to deserve this. But deep down, I knew. I knew I was good at my job. I knew my standards were high-perhaps even too high at times.
Then, I had a moment of clarity: It wasn’t me. It was her.
So I started pushing back-softly at first. I spoke up in meetings. I shared my thoughts when others asked for my opinion. I reclaimed my confidence, inch by inch. And then, one day, an email arrived.
She had resigned.
The joy I felt was indescribable. But in the days that followed, something else settled in-a deeper understanding. She treated everyone this way, not just me. HR had asked her to leave. And then, the real question struck me: Who taught her to lead this way? Who shaped her understanding of what it meant to be a manager? Maybe she believed that being firm and unyielding was the only way to command respect. Maybe, if she had a mentor who had guided her differently, she would have led differently.
I don’t excuse her behavior, but I do understand it.
Workplace toxicity doesn’t just come from bad people. It often comes from people who were never shown a better way.
So here’s my takeaway: If you’re dealing with a difficult manager, set your boundaries, protect your self-worth, and don’t let their behavior define you. But also, when you can, take a moment to consider the other side of the coin. What shaped them? And what might have been different if someone had shown them another way?
Maybe then, corporate life wouldn’t be such a battlefield. Maybe then, more people would rise, not just above their managers-but above the cycle itself.