Every Workplace Has One

I have spent a good portion of my professional life helping organizations improve how they function. Sometimes that work has focused on strategy. Sometimes it has focused on culture. Occasionally it has focused on learning, leadership, communication, or community. Yet regardless of the topic, there is one phenomenon that seems to appear with remarkable consistency. Every workplace, every volunteer committee, every board table, every project team, and every community initiative eventually finds itself grappling with difficult people.

Most of us have our own language for these individuals. Human resources professionals may describe them as disruptive. Consultants might speak of dysfunctional behaviours. Organizational psychologists may use more precise and nuanced terminology. Meanwhile, many of the rest of us, particularly after a long meeting or a difficult interaction, tend to settle on a simpler term.

We call them assholes.

The word is impolite, perhaps even unprofessional, but there is a reason it persists. It captures something that more clinical language often misses. An asshole is not merely someone with whom we disagree. Nor are they simply someone who has made a mistake. Rather, they are individuals whose attitudes, behaviours, habits, and tendencies create unnecessary friction for the people around them. They make collaboration harder. They make trust more difficult. They make work heavier than it needs to be.

The interesting thing, however, is that assholes rarely see themselves that way. In fact, one of the most fascinating observations from organizational life is that almost nobody identifies themselves as the problem. Ask a room full of people whether they have worked with an asshole and nearly every hand will rise. Ask the same room whether they have ever been an asshole and suddenly the enthusiasm becomes noticeably more restrained. Statistically, this should concern us.

The Gap Between Intention and Impact

Over time, I have come to suspect that our greatest workplace blind spots are not the flaws we recognize in ourselves, but the ways in which others experience us that we fail to see. We all possess narratives about who we are. We tell ourselves that we are decisive, helpful, knowledgeable, committed, honest, or driven. The people around us, meanwhile, may be experiencing something quite different. The gap between intention and impact can be surprisingly large, and it is often within that gap that workplace friction takes root.

This realization led me to an uncomfortable question. What if the problem is not that workplaces contain a few isolated assholes? What if the reality is that all of us possess the potential to become one under the right circumstances? Pressure, insecurity, competition, ego, fatigue, ambition, frustration, and fear have a remarkable ability to bring out less attractive versions of ourselves. The challenge is not identifying whether we are capable of becoming difficult. The challenge is understanding the particular way in which our difficulties tend to manifest.

The Eight Workplace Assholes

Consider The Grouch. Most organizations have at least one. The Grouch is often intelligent, experienced, and occasionally correct. Unfortunately, they have become so practiced at identifying problems that they struggle to notice possibilities. New ideas are greeted with skepticism. Successes are qualified. Optimism is treated as evidence of naivety. While they may view themselves as realists, the people around them often experience them as a steady drain on energy and momentum.

Then there is The Narcissist. The Narcissist experiences work as a competitive arena in which recognition, status, and visibility carry tremendous importance. They are not always overtly arrogant. In fact, some are quite charming. Nevertheless, there is a gravitational pull toward themselves that others cannot help but notice. Conversations bend toward their achievements. Success stories feature them prominently. Praise directed elsewhere can produce surprisingly visible discomfort.

The Gossip operates differently. Unlike The Narcissist, who seeks attention, The Gossip seeks information. They are often remarkably well-informed and can appear deeply connected within an organization. The problem emerges when information ceases to be a tool for understanding and becomes a form of social currency. Trust, once damaged, can be remarkably difficult to restore, and The Gossip frequently underestimates the long-term cost of treating other people's stories as entertainment.

The Micromanager is often misunderstood. Contrary to popular belief, many micromanagers do not wake up in the morning intending to make life difficult for others. Rather, they are frequently motivated by anxiety, perfectionism, or a profound desire to avoid failure. Unfortunately, the result is the same. Excessive oversight communicates a lack of trust, and few things drain initiative faster than the feeling that every decision will be second-guessed.

The Gatekeeper emerges when knowledge, access, or opportunity become forms of power. Every organization contains individuals who know how things work, who possesses influence, and where important decisions are made. In healthy environments, such people act as guides. In unhealthy environments, they become obstacles. Information is withheld, access is restricted, and influence is carefully controlled. What begins as stewardship slowly transforms into territorialism.

The Credit Taker occupies another familiar role. Most of us have encountered someone who possesses a remarkable ability to appear near success at exactly the right moment. They may not outright steal recognition, but they are seldom in a hurry to correct misunderstandings that happen to benefit them. Team accomplishments become personal achievements. Shared victories become individual narratives. Colleagues eventually learn that collaboration with such individuals can feel oddly unrewarding.

The Know-It-All is often one of the most difficult archetypes to recognize in oneself. Intelligence and expertise are genuinely valuable workplace assets. Organizations need knowledgeable people. Problems arise when expertise becomes identity. Curiosity begins to diminish. Alternative perspectives receive less consideration. Discussions transform into opportunities to demonstrate knowledge rather than opportunities to learn. Ironically, the more knowledgeable a person becomes, the more dangerous this trap can be.

Finally, there is The Bulldozer. The Bulldozer gets things done. They are decisive, action-oriented, and often admired for their willingness to move forward while others hesitate. Yet every strength casts a shadow. Decisiveness can become domination. Confidence can become dismissal. Momentum can become collateral damage. The Bulldozer often leaves behind a trail of strained relationships while remaining genuinely puzzled about why others seem resistant.

The Real Opportunity

What makes these archetypes particularly interesting is that none of them are entirely bad. In fact, each contains the seed of a valuable workplace strength. The Grouch may possess critical thinking. The Narcissist may exhibit confidence. The Micromanager may care deeply about quality. The Bulldozer may be highly effective during crises. Problems emerge not because these traits exist, but because they become exaggerated, unchecked, or disconnected from self-awareness.

Perhaps that is why I have become increasingly interested in the notion of workplace blind spots. Most personality assessments tell us who we believe ourselves to be. They help us understand preferences, motivations, and tendencies. Those insights are useful, but they tell only part of the story. The more difficult and arguably more valuable question is how others experience us. The answer may not always be comfortable, but it is often profoundly informative.

Imagine discovering that you see yourself as collaborative while your colleagues experience you as controlling. Imagine learning that your self-image as a helpful expert is being interpreted by others as arrogance. Imagine finding out that behaviours you regard as harmless have quietly eroded trust over months or years. Such revelations may sting, but they also create the possibility of growth. We cannot change what we cannot see.

Ultimately, the goal is not to identify and shame workplace assholes. Every organization has already invested plenty of energy in that activity. The goal is to increase awareness. It is to help people recognize the difference between intention and impact. It is to understand how strengths can become liabilities, how habits can become blind spots, and how good people can sometimes create unnecessary friction without realizing it.

The uncomfortable truth is that every workplace contains assholes. The more hopeful truth is that most of them are not malicious villains. They are ordinary people carrying ordinary insecurities, ambitions, habits, and fears. The truly interesting question is not whether we have worked with them. The truly interesting question is whether we are willing to recognize the moments when we become them ourselves.

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