I know I mentioned hegemony in the title, but the story I’m sharing is not solely one of systematic power imbalance, even though the person who attempted to push me down was in authority. Even though she did eventually try to exercise hegemonic strength over me, or as I’ve recognized it: Pontius Power.

She ordered my persecution. But that was after.

The power she exercised initially was more nuanced, more lax.

We’re all privy to this one. It’s not a hegemonic one that comes with a job title written in bold font, nor a corner office with a view of steel frame architecture.

It’s the subtle, situational kind. The kind that happens when someone is new and depending on your guidance to navigate unfamiliar grounds.

In those moments:

We can use that power to build them up.
-or-
We can use it to break them down.

THEY TRIED TO BREAK ME DOWN

But I’m used to this: having my back up against the floor, with a foot on my neck, fulsome stomps to the gutter, knees buckled butter.

Because life doesn’t play fair. But it strengthens you if you keep the right perspective.

A couple years back, I was temping at one of the top finance companies in a ‘floater’ role. I won’t name the institution, but it’s one with a colored stone, known for buying the single family homes.

Anyway, I was very new to the corporate setting. My early career originated in the blue-collar scene. More rugged and rough around the edges.

I remember my old boss would curse out clients if they asked more than two questions. ‘Til this day, he has the shortest temper I’ve ever seen in my life. And that guy was also my HR!

Dysfunction is the place I learned to function in for so long.

So to sum everything up:

I wasn’t a stranger to work, but I was a stranger to this new world.

As a floater, my job was to cover the desks of the main staff while they took their breaks. So I was basically hopping from desk to desk for fifteen minute intervals all day. Very strange job. I almost felt like it was illegal to get paid to do something so simple.

Then again, it wasn’t as simple as I thought. Because they hung me to dry on my first day.

It was the afternoon. I was covering one seat at a two-person desk while the receptionist I was relieving stepped out. She told me, “No one’s coming in. Nothing will happen while I’m gone.”

So in my mind that meant I do not need to turn my computer on. Made sense to me.

If you come from a corporate background, reading that line might make you cringe. Maybe turning on your computer is common sense.

I promise this wasn’t an act of neglect or rebellion on my end.

It just didn’t occur to me that there was a cultural expectation — that even in moments of downtime, showing readiness was part of the role.

Ten minutes into this shift, the lead receptionist (who sat right next to me the whole time) disgruntled me in a snark inflection, “Why did you think it was okay not to turn your computer on?“

And she glared at me like sun heating toast through a magnifying glass.

My heart sank. I knew immediately, I had sinned.

I also knew there was no ‘right’ answer to give. Even if I explained ’til I was blue in the face, huffing and puffing my case — none of it would matter.

Her mind was already made up about who I was in that moment.

I did tell her my misreading of the situation. However, she reported me to her manager without further conversation. And her manager reported me to my recruiter.

As a temp worker, an incident like this (especially your first day on a job) is basically the nail in your coffin.

Start thinking about what you’re going to write on your cardboard sign.

Luckily, I had a wonderful recruiter who called me for more context, and knew me to be of better character because of my previous track record working with her.

What The Lead Receptionist Should’ve Done

Looking back, I wasn’t mad that she corrected me. Correction is part of work. It’s how people grow.

What disappointed me was that she skipped the part where she could have helped me.

Instead of:

“Hey, just so you know, it’s standard practice to have your computer on. Even if nothing’s happening.”

She went straight to:

“I’m going to make sure I crucify you.”

It was a perfect opportunity for her to share insight. Instead, it became an exercise in making sure I felt small.

Ego Is A Hell Of A Drug. DON’T DO DRUGS

This is where superiority complexes kick in.

I’ve noticed, sometimes “enforcing standards” isn’t about enforcing the standard. It’s about getting an ego-fix. It’s about how good it feels to catch someone slipping so you can stand a little taller by comparison.

We might disguise it as “holding someone accountable”. But accountability without guidance isn’t good leadership, if we are going to consider it leadership at all. It’s sabotage.

I’ve also seen the opposite; inferiority complexes dressed up as superiority. People who feel insecure in their role sometimes overcompensate by pointing out others’ flaws, instead of sharing knowledge (because they don’t have much of it to share anyway). It’s a defense mechanism. If I make you look less capable, I look more capable in comparison.

Either way, the outcome is the same: someone walks away smaller, never stronger.

Situational Awareness Carried My Career Forward

Everything in that short exchange taught me something. No one ever sat down with me and explained cultural nuances. No one even explained why what I did was wrong.

I had to utilize context clues and make an overall assessment as to why I should not do that again. This circumstance taught me a lot, beyond corporate culture. Had this moment been the end of my corporate career I would’ve learned something valuable about human nature.

Some people build others, some people break them. And sometimes the biggest difference between the two boils down to — do I want to be right, or do I want to be helpful?

This Goes Beyond Hegemony

The workplace is an easy place to spot these dynamics because hierarchies are visible. There’s always someone newer, younger, less experienced, or “lower” on the org chart. But the same choice shows up everywhere else.

Parenting – “Do I humiliate my kid for messing up, or help them understand?”

Relationships – “Do I weaponize their mistake in the next argument, or use it as a moment to strengthen trust?”

Team sports – “Do I dehumanize my teammate for making an error, or do I encourage them to keep trying? Do I help them learn better techniques?”

Pet-sitting – “Do I smack the crap out of this animal and curse them for having an accident? Or do I demonstrate patience and course-correct bad behavior?”

Spiritual guidance – “Do I immediately persecute my brethren for falling short of the glory? Or do I have a good faith discussion and help them see something they might’ve been blind to?”

Do I need to keep beating the dead horse? Or do we know it’s dead by now?

Power isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s nuanced and situational. It’s a small window of opportunity to extend a hand, or press on someone’s weakness.

You saw my bare back exposed, and instead of offering me a sweater you took the opportunity to stab me profusely.

Not All Villains Wear Capes, But She Did

That day at the colored-stone-single-family-home-buying company taught me something I still carry.

When someone is in unfamiliar territory, it costs me nothing to explain, but it costs them everything when I humiliate.

Villains might think moments like the one I experienced are forgettable. No big deal. Just a drop of diarrhea in a non-polluted ocean. Just another day at the office.

But let me tell you something. I suffer from memory gaps.

I don’t remember what I wore the day she tried to lynch my character. I don’t remember what I had for lunch. But I do remember the ten seconds it took for someone to decide my mistake was an opportunity to punish me, instead of a reason to guide me.

And I remember my own internal vow. That when I’m in that same position with someone newer, more unsure than I am, who has placed their delicate trust in my hands, that I’ll be more likely to help instead of harm.

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Author’s Note

This rumination sits alongside other writings I’ve done on the ways people shape each other and my interpretation of obscure behavior.

• The Characters We Wear
• Everyone Communicates, But Fists Still Connect
• Why I Struggle To Trust People In Need

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Psychologically, experiences like this fall under the discussion of moral injury — the lasting harm that occurs when someone in a position of authority violates an expectation of care or fairness.