I Didn't Know I Wasn't Safe at Work

What I've learned about the environments we adapt to, the things we normalize, and why leading with heart matters.

I've spent more than two decades working in and around businesses, leading teams, navigating complex situations, and trying to solve problems that don't always come with a playbook. I've been incredibly fortunate to work alongside some extraordinary people, and I've learned something from just about every experience along the way. Some lessons came from remarkable leaders who showed me what was possible. Others came from situations I wouldn't necessarily volunteer to repeat. Isn't it funny how some of our most important lessons work that way?

One of the things I've been thinking about lately is how we recognize when something isn't right, particularly in our working environments. I've always thought of myself as someone who's pretty good at reading a room. I can usually identify the dynamics between people, recognize when something isn't working, and find a way to move everyone toward a solution.

But here's something that took me a long time to understand. I didn't always recognize when I was in an environment where I didn't feel safe. I'm not talking about physical safety. I'm talking about the kind of safety that allows you to be yourself, ask questions, challenge an idea, make a mistake, or admit that you don't have all the answers without worrying about what it might cost you.

And the interesting part is that when you're someone who prides yourself on adapting, overcoming challenges, and figuring things out, you can become remarkably skilled at navigating situations that perhaps shouldn't require so much navigation in the first place.

You learn which conversations are worth having and which ones aren't. You learn how to present an idea so it will be received. You become thoughtful about timing, tone, personalities, and potential reactions. Some of that is simply emotional intelligence and good leadership. But sometimes, without realizing it, you're spending an enormous amount of energy managing the environment around you rather than actually doing the work you came to do.

And because you're still performing, still delivering, and still finding ways to succeed, you may never stop to ask whether all that adapting is taking a toll. That's what I've been wrestling with.

What have we learned to tolerate?

I've often wondered how many things become normal simply because we experience them repeatedly. Think about the employee who has a great idea but decides not to share it because the last person who challenged the status quo was embarrassed in a meeting. Or the manager who sees a problem developing but knows that bringing bad news to leadership will create more trouble than quietly trying to fix it.

Now imagine what happens when those patterns repeat over months or years. People learn. They adjust. They protect themselves. And eventually, what started as a conscious decision to avoid an uncomfortable situation can become an automatic way of operating. I find that fascinating, and honestly, a little heartbreaking.

Because when I think about what businesses are trying to accomplish, almost everything we need from our people requires some degree of vulnerability. Innovation requires someone to suggest something that might not work. Improvement requires someone to acknowledge that the current process isn't as good as it could be. Collaboration requires people to admit what they don't know. And meaningful leadership requires the willingness to have conversations that aren't always comfortable.

If people don't feel safe enough to do those things, what are we actually asking them to bring to work? Their time? Their technical skills? Their ability to follow instructions? Imagine how much more they're capable of offering.

Leading with heart doesn't mean lowering expectations

This is one of the things I feel most strongly about. Somewhere along the way, we've allowed this idea to develop that caring deeply about people somehow conflicts with being a demanding, results-driven leader. I couldn't disagree more. I've spent my career in environments where performance matters. Revenue matters. Accountability matters. Customers matter. And I'm not particularly interested in lowering the bar simply because we're trying to be kind.

What I am interested in is understanding how we create environments where people can achieve extraordinary things without feeling that their dignity, identity, or sense of belonging is constantly at risk. You can give someone difficult feedback without humiliating them. You can hold someone accountable without making them afraid of you. You can challenge an idea without attacking the person who offered it. In fact, I believe those abilities make us better leaders.

One of the questions I wish more leaders would ask is not whether they've told their people it's okay to speak up, but whether their reactions have demonstrated that it's actually true. There's a big difference. People don't just listen to what we say. They watch what we do. They remember how we respond when things go wrong, who gets heard, and what happens to someone who tells us something we didn't want to hear. And over time, those moments become the culture.

A different way forward

I'm still learning to recognize the difference between environments that challenge me to grow and environments that require me to constantly protect myself. That's an important distinction, because discomfort isn't always a bad thing. Growth can be uncomfortable. Accountability can be uncomfortable. Honest conversations can be uncomfortable. But none of those things should require us to stop being human.

For the leaders reading this, I'd encourage you to get curious about what your people have learned is safe to tell you. And for the people who recognize themselves somewhere in this story, I'd invite you to think about the environments you've adapted to and how those experiences may have shaped the way you show up today.

You don't need to have an immediate answer. Sometimes recognizing a pattern is meaningful progress all by itself. I believe businesses can be places where people do exceptional work and still feel safe enough to be themselves. And I believe that starts with leaders who understand that the heart of a business has always been its people.

With heart,

Marissa