The guys at the top do not go down with the ship. They push people off so they can continue sailing.
They inspire a false sense of trust through breezy conversation and carefully parsed out praise. They conspire with you by whispering a risque joke, and sharing what appears to be a confidence but in reality isn't. When there's a grievance, they take you in their office, close the door, give you a well-practiced sympathetic and understanding look as they tell you how they feel your pain. Then they assure you that "if I could do something about it, I would."
Here's the lesson: despite carefully constructed appearances to the contrary, they're not your friend. But they act like it, as long as you're cost effective and the challenging comments you make or errors and stupid decisions you point out don't reflect directly on them.
As long as that's the case, then your position isn't on The List.
At this point you might be wondering what's triggered this line of thought. Don't worry, I haven't been fired (you need a real job for that to happen). Actually, someone I used to work for happened to cross my mind. Someone I believed to be my friend.
Admittedly it's a line that's easily blurred for me.
You'd think for as many times as I've seen The Godfather, I'd know by now - it's not personal, it's business. The thing is, because of the masquerade, it feels personal.
Here's the funny part: I still like this individual. Even though when given the choice, they wound up putting my name on The List. Which is the very reason I believe they're not my friend. See the conflict?
I hope this person is happy, and not in the "I hope you're happy now" sense. I mean it.
While I'm sure I'm giving this person much more brain time than they've given me since I left - or maybe even than when I was there for that matter - I can't help but feel a profound sadness that this was a person I thought was my friend, and who I counted on to have my back.
Turns out they did. Just not in the way I thought.
