Could You Handle This Workplace?

Remember that time your manager criticised you in front of the entire team? The pointless staff training you had to sit through, which had nothing to do with your department or role? Or when you were having an off day but still had to perform at 100%?

We've all had difficult workplace moments. But imagine if these weren't occasional frustrations - what if they were built into the very structure of your job?

Welcome to Your New Job

Let's walk through a typical day at your new workplace.

I recommend reading this before you sign that employment contract.

8:00 AM: Strict Arrival Policy

You arrive at 8:07. The doors are locked.

You walk to the front, press the intercom, and explain your lateness. It's recorded.

Do it three times and you're up for a formal warning.

Your presentation? Already started. You walk in while everyone turns to stare.

8:30 AM: Cramped Conditions, No Compromise

Presentation’s done. Time to get to work.

You're shoulder to shoulder with 29 others.

Desks crammed tight. Noise constant.

No space, no quiet, but still expected to deliver.

9:15 AM: Bathroom Breaks Must Be Pre-Approved

You need the bathroom. But instead of going, you raise your hand.

Your manager sees you. Keeps talking.

Eventually, a sigh. "Can't you wait until break?"

Everyone turns. You lower your hand and cross your legs tightly.

Last week, someone didn't make it.

People whispered about it later by the water cooler, in Slack messages.

No one said anything to her face.

10:30 AM: Staff Will Be Monitored Without Feedback

Your quarterly review is coming up.

Instead of a meeting, your boss sits in the corner of your workspace all day. Clipboard in hand. Watching every email you type. Every call you make.

No support. No conversation. Just silent evaluation.

Feel your shoulders tensing yet?

11:00 AM: All Staff Must Speak When Prompted

The meeting drags on. You're exhausted. The topic doesn't even relate to your work.

Suddenly, your boss points: "We haven't heard from you yet. Share your thoughts."

Everyone turns.

You haven't been following. But "I don't know" isn't allowed. Neither is staying silent.

You must perform. On command.

11:58 AM: Tasks Will Be Reassigned Without Warning

You're finally making progress on something complex - days of mental circling, and now it's clicking.

Then the bell rings.

Time's up. Switch tasks immediately.

Doesn't matter where you're at. Doesn't matter what you just unlocked.

You'll have to start over tomorrow, if you can even remember how you got there.

12:00 PM: Breaks Are Timed and Supervised

You have twenty minutes for lunch.

By the time you queue for the microwave, you're left with seven to eat.

After that, no chatting. No moving. No checking your phone.

Just sit. Quietly. Until the clock says otherwise.

Eat too slowly? You don't finish. Eat too fast? Enjoy the extra sitting.

12:20 PM: Movement Is Not Permitted

You're trying to focus, but your body's had enough.

You've been in the same stiff chair for ages.

Your legs ache. You ask to stretch. Just a quick walk, a reset.

You're told movement is disruptive, everyone must stay at their desk.

So you sit. Bouncing one knee. Clenching your pen. Trying not to explode.

2:30 PM: Standardised Training Is Compulsory for All Staff

You're required to complete new training on the accounting system.

You work in logistics. You'll never use it.

Everyone completes it together, at the same speed.

Too fast? Wait. Too slow? You're falling behind.

Your learning style, experience, or interest? Irrelevant.

No flexibility. No relevance. Your time isn't yours.

3:00 PM: Staff Conduct Will Be Publicly Displayed

The performance chart is pinned in the staff kitchen.

You've been marked "needs improvement" for not making eye contact.

For fidgeting. For doodling while you were meant to be listening.

You were listening. You remember every word.

But someone decided that listening without looking doesn't count.

Your co-workers walk past, reading your failures with their morning coffee. "Non-compliant" is right there on the fridge.

3:30 PM: Interpersonal Issues Should Be Managed Independently

You report a colleague who's been targeting you for weeks.

They talk over you. Undermine your work. Then a rumour starts, and spreads fast.

Everyone knows who started it. Including management.

You ask for help. You're told to let it go. Be more resilient.

You ask to move desks. "That would set a precedent."

So you stay. Working next to the person who humiliated you.

They get a quiet word. You get signed up for anger management.

Because clearly, you're the problem.

4:00 PM: Awards Will Reflect Consistent Participation

You didn't qualify for the attendance bonus.

You missed two days for a funeral. One for mental health.

You're told, "It wouldn't be fair to the others."

4:30 PM: Attendance at All-Staff Meeting Is Mandatory

All 300 staff are gathered in the main hall.

No chairs. Just the cold hard floor.

You sit shoulder to shoulder, legs cramping, for over an hour. A presentation echoes through the space - you can't make out a word.

Someone whispers. They're called out and shamed.

You sit straighter. Say nothing.

5:00 PM: Unpaid Overtime Will Be Expected

You clock out. But your manager reminds you there's still work to do.

You're expected to complete it at home. On your own time. Without pay.

No negotiation. It's just part of the job.

Would You Work Here?

Would you tolerate this?

Would you call this a healthy workplace?

Would you stay?

Or would you report it?

Complain to HR?

Warn your friends to avoid it?

Of course you would.

Because this wouldn't be acceptable. Not for adults.

You'd Call This Abuse at Work.

You've just made it through that workday.

No freedom. No trust. No dignity.

These are the basics. What most adults expect without even thinking:

Autonomy over your own body - to eat when you're hungry, move when your body says move, and go to the toilet without asking permission.

Psychological safety - to mess something up or take a moment without being dragged into a performance review, or shamed in front of your peers.

Relevance and respect - to spend your time on something that matters, instead of ticking boxes just to prove you can sit still and follow directions.

Privacy and dignity - to not have your behaviour publicly tracked, your mistakes on display, or your emotional state discussed like you're a problem to manage.

Flexibility and humanity - to take a day when life hits you hard. No questions. No penalty. No "but it wouldn't be fair to the others."

Freedom from harm - to work without being bullied, touched, cornered, or forced to sit next to someone who's hurt you.

The right to be heard without punishment - to say "I'm not ready," "I need help," or "I can't" and not get labelled difficult, defiant, or disruptive.

These aren't perks. They're not luxuries.

They're just what it means to be treated like a person.

I must've missed the memo where kids stopped being people.

And it hit me, this doesn't feel like a crappy job.

It feels like prison.

I know, it sounds extreme. But think about it.

You're monitored constantly. Can't move freely.

Get punished for speaking out, or for not speaking at all.

You don't get to eat when you're hungry.

You have to ask to go to the toilet. You can't just leave.

The bells. The uniforms. The constant pressure to comply or be corrected.

All those things we just called inhumane?

No autonomy. No privacy. No dignity. No choice.

That's not just school. That's prison, too.

And no, this isn’t about blaming teachers.

Most are doing their best inside a system that doesn’t give them what they need, either.

This is about the structure. The design. The harm that happens even when the intent is good.

This Isn't Some Dysfunctional Workplace.

It's School.

A place that's supposed to be about learning and growth.

We tell them it's for their own good. "Everyone has to go to school."

But if this was adulthood, we'd call it abuse.

What Comes Next?

It’s not about hating school.

It’s about loving learning - and watching school squeeze the life out of it.

One of our kids - let’s call him Squirrel - actually enjoys school.

(Yes, like Dawn suddenly appearing in Buffy. Just roll with it.)

He thrives on the social side, which - shock to some homeschoolers - I’ll say out loud: isn’t always easy to replicate.

So yes, we still have one kid in school.

But after everything I’ve seen, after watching how much energy goes into simply surviving a system built on control, I quietly wish he didn’t love it so much.

Because once you’ve seen real learning - messy, curious, self-driven learning - it’s hard to pretend the traditional classroom is the best we can do.

What gets me isn’t just the effort it takes to survive that environment.

It’s what they lose along the way.

The spark. The weird questions.

The part of them that wants to figure things out just because.

We call it learning, but most of the time it’s performance.

Kids learn to play the game, give the answer that’s expected, keep their heads down, avoid attention.

Showing what they really think becomes risky.

If it’s not the “right” answer? They stop thinking, and start following.

Most of what we call “school readiness” isn’t about learning.

It’s about compliance. Endurance.

The ability to shrink yourself to fit a structure that doesn’t bend.

And once you know that’s what’s happening, it gets harder to stay polite about it.

We’ve built an education system around obedience and standardisation, then act surprised when kids shut down.

We reward compliance. We penalise autonomy.

We tell children to self-regulate while giving them no room to breathe.

We keep going. Because “that’s how it’s always been.”

So was corporal punishment.

So was forcing left-handed kids to write with their right hand.

We’re allowed to grow out of things.

We’re allowed to ask better questions.

What if school isn’t preparing them for life - but conditioning them to survive systems that are long overdue for change?

What if we’ve confused compliance with learning?

What if kids deserve better than endurance and obedience dressed up as “resilience”?

Our kids deserve an education that celebrates individuality, honours diversity, and grows with them. Not one that trains them to disappear just to survive it. So maybe the real problem is this:

School is no place for children.*

*Spoken by Tricia Carroll, an 80 year old teaching veteran who’s spent over five decades fighting for a better system, and still hasn’t seen the change.

You can find more of my rantings on this topic here: How School Kills the Love of Learning

What if Learning Wasn’t a Demand, but an Invitation?

The Power of a Strength Based Approach