It’s been years, but sometimes you just carry things. This one’s about a guy, let’s call him Mark. And yeah, if he ever reads this, which he won’t, but still: sorry, man. Truly.
The Setup
This was back when I was climbing that greasy corporate ladder, thought I was hot stuff. Team lead, big project, insane deadline. You know the drill. Pressure from above was immense. Like, ‘get this done or else’ kind of vibes. So, I was intense. Too intense, looking back.
Mark was on my team. Quiet guy. Kept to himself. Did his work, but he wasn’t the fastest. In that high-pressure cooker, his pace felt like dragging an anchor. I remember getting frustrated. A lot.
What I Did
So, what did I do? Not my proudest moment, that’s for sure. I pushed him. Hard. I’d stand by his desk. Send those passive-aggressive “just checking in” emails multiple times a day. The worst part? I think I called him out in a team meeting. Not by name, not directly, but everyone knew who I was talking about. “We need everyone pulling their weight, some are lagging,” or some corporate BS like that. Cringey to even think about now. I thought I was being a ‘strong leader’. What a joke.
My focus was purely on the damn deadline. The people? They were just resources. That’s how I saw it then. Awful, right?
The Aftermath
We made the deadline. Barely. Got the pats on the back from management. Felt like a win. For about a week. Then Mark resigned. Handed in his notice, quiet as ever. No big drama. Said he found another opportunity. I didn’t think much of it at the time. “His loss,” or “couldn’t handle the pace,” I probably thought, like a real jerk.
It wasn’t until maybe a year or two later, I bumped into an old colleague, Sarah, who used to be on that team. We got to talking, reminiscing. And then she dropped it.
“You know Mark was going through hell back then, right?” she said.
Turns out, his mom was incredibly sick. Terminal. He was juggling work, hospital visits, being the primary caregiver. He never said a word. Not to me, not to anyone at work. Just soldiered on, carrying this massive weight, while I was breathing down his neck about TPS reports or whatever stupid thing it was.
The “Sorry” Part
Man, when I heard that. It was like a punch to the gut. All that frustration I felt towards him? It just flipped. Landed right back on me. The guilt was, and still is, pretty heavy. I never got to apologize. He was long gone. I didn’t even know how to reach him.
So this is it, I guess. A shout into the void. Sorry, Mark. I was an idiot. I was a terrible boss. I was so wrapped up in my own little world of stress that I couldn’t see past the end of my own nose.
What I Learned (The Hard Way)
It’s a harsh lesson to learn, this empathy thing, especially when you learn it by realizing you were the bad guy. My “practice” back then was all about targets and efficiency. Now, my practice is trying to remember there’s always a human story behind the employee. Always.
- People are not robots: Obvious, but easily forgotten under pressure.
- You don’t always know what someone is carrying: Silence doesn’t mean everything is okay.
- A little kindness goes a long way: A lot further than barking orders, that’s for sure.
- “Winning” at work isn’t everything: Especially if you crush people to get there.
So yeah. Sorry to this man. I try to do better now. Some lessons you don’t forget.
