(my old desk)
We recognize obvious bad bosses. The yellers. The micromanagers. The ones who humiliate you in meetings or trash-talk you to your peers. These behaviors are easy to name, easier to document, and increasingly unacceptable in modern workplaces.
But what about the ones who quietly sabotage you?
I once reported to someone who never raised their voice at me. Never micromanaged. Never publicly humiliated me. On paper, they weren’t a “bad boss” by traditional measures. But over the 12 or so months I reported to them, their leadership—or lack thereof—set off a chain reaction that would ultimately cost me everything I’d built over six years.
And before you assume this is a revenge piece, it’s not. I’m not writing this to vilify one person. I’m writing this because after sharing my story, two different people asked me the same question: “Why were they trying to sabotage you?” And what’s interesting is I never saw it that way, so I didn’t think they were. At least not consciously. But intent doesn’t erase impact. And the impact made me question who—or what—was really to blame.
When Things Started Unraveling
For six years, I was on fire at this company. Regular promotions. Consistent raises. Glowing performance reviews that documented how I was executing executive-driven initiatives, leading teams, and creating new paths for global partnerships. I had a golden reputation—people sought me out for collaboration, introduced themselves saying “so-and-so suggested I meet you,” and asked for coffee chats to learn from my approach.
One moment captures it perfectly: A man from a completely different department, in a completely different building, was passing by and overheard a coaching session I was having with my direct report. He was so impressed that the next time he saw me, he introduced himself and asked if his high school daughter could shadow me for a day. When he brought her to work, he simply said, “Let me know when to pick her up. She can stay as long as you’ll have her.” This man entrusted his child to me based on one overheard conversation.
Then came the reorganization. New executives. New division. And a new Sr. Director who, while recruiting me, promised “career acceleration” and an expedited path to Director. I politely declined. I wasn’t ready for the Director push, and I was still in love with the work my team was doing. But the reorg didn’t care what I wanted. My six-year unit was dismantled, and suddenly I reported to the very person I’d said no to.
That’s when things started unraveling. At the time, I rationalized each incident. But looking back? They were glaring red flags.
None of This Was Dramatic—It Was Quiet
They dangled development, then disappeared. They mentioned a “chasm” between Senior Manager and Director. When I finally embraced the goal, I asked for bi-weekly one-on-ones to help me bridge it. They agreed, then canceled all but two of our sessions. (This was your pitch to recruit me, homie. Now I’m chasing you?)
They excluded my work from their reports. Each week, I was required to provide updates for them to pass to senior leadership. Months later, I discovered they never did. When I asked why: “I don’t know, Erin… I don’t know.” (Yes, you do.)
They told me about opportunities after they’d already passed. ‘There was a Tech conference for Black professionals I just got back from—I should’ve invited you.’ (Hold up, I’m the only Black woman on the team, and I’m the afterthought?)
They gaslit me. After repeatedly instructing the team to do something a specific way, they reversed course in a meeting. When I spoke up, they claimed, “I never said that.” (The work from nine people says otherwise, but sure, we all imagined it.)
They skipped my performance reviews. Two cycles in a row. Not only did this affect my salary and bonus, but it also dropped my rating to a default that disqualified me from a Director role. When I raised concerns, they blamed “the platform.” (You get paid to do your job, not make excuses.)
They put me in an impossible position. Once, they called to tell me a colleague was about to be fired, swore me to secrecy, and instructed me not to warn them because it would be an “HR violation.” To this day, I remember the complete agony that phone call brought me…
None of this was dramatic. None of it was documentable in the traditional sense. But cumulatively? It was quiet sabotage by neglect.
I Had Become Invisible
During this time, my direct report—someone I’d fought to bring to the new team despite initial resistance—was being recruited by my peer and another Senior Manager—the same manager who hadn’t wanted my direct report in the first place. The irony wasn’t lost on me, but I supported the move because it was good for his career. What I didn’t expect was my own manager suddenly becoming more communicative than they’d been in months, pressuring me to finalize the transfer in the system. Days after I did, they were terminated.
Now consider where this left me: my intranet and public-facing webpages, showcasing years of work—videos, testimonials, training materials, program documentation—had been deleted because they conflicted with my new team’s messaging. My executive sponsors from the old regime were gone. My direct report had transferred. Now my new manager was gone. And I was on a team I’d never wanted to join in the first place.
I had become not only miserable but invisible. For months, I dodged wave after wave of layoffs—until I didn’t. Eight weeks before my seventh anniversary, I was gone.
The Pattern
After I left, I started remembering and encountering similar stories:
A dedicated woman, highly skilled and up for promotion, forced out when new leadership decided she was a threat.
Another woman, an executive I know with 19 years and 7 months of service—five months shy of her 20-year anniversary—pushed to resign when a new policy made her role impossible and her new boss refused to accommodate.
A man recruited specifically for his innovative approach to a critical company problem was blindsided by termination after nearly a decade when leadership changed.
Do you see it? The pattern? Not sure? Keep reading.
The Bad Boss Isn’t Just A Person
We treat these stories as inevitable: “That’s just corporate.” “That’s what happens under new regimes.” But why is that acceptable?
Companies obsess over product innovation but treat talent retention like an afterthought. Managers conduct performance reviews on their direct reports, but where do employees provide feedback on their managers’ performance? When new leadership arrives, why isn’t there a system to protect employees who’ve been thriving? Why do we allow legacies to be erased overnight?
The bad boss isn’t just a person. It’s the system that allows this to happen.
We Need Structural Reform
This isn’t about awareness alone. We’re aware. We need structural reform. Here’s what I suggest:
1. Bidirectional Performance Reviews: Implement mandatory 360-degree feedback where direct reports can formally evaluate their managers’ effectiveness. Not anonymous surveys that disappear into HR folders, but documented reviews that impact managers’ advancement and compensation just as employee reviews do.
2. Transition Protection Policies: When organizations restructure, require a 12-month protection period for high-performing employees. During this time, they cannot be laid off or performance-managed out without approval from two levels above their current management and documentation of clear performance failures.
3. Legacy Documentation Requirements: Before any reorganization that will delete or archive employee work, require that contributions be formally documented and preserved in employee records. Make this documentation accessible to new leadership during transitions.
4. Manager Accountability for Development: If a manager promises development opportunities (promotions, training, mentorship), require them to document specific milestones and timelines. Missing these commitments should be flagged in their performance reviews.
5. Executive Transition Audits: When leadership changes, conduct mandatory audits to identify high-performing employees at risk of becoming invisible. Require new executives to meet with these employees (not just their managers) and understand their contributions before making staffing decisions.
6. Performance Review Guarantees: If an employee completes their self-assessment, the manager must complete the review—no exceptions. Managers who skip reviews should have their own advancement frozen until all direct reports are up to date. If the manager leaves before the review is due, the next-level manager must conduct it.
Why This Matters
I share my story not for sympathy, but for systemic change, something you might know by now is a mission I’m on. I’m one person, but I represent thousands of talented professionals who’ve been eroded out of companies that once valued them, not because they failed, but because the system failed them.
This is why I started my LLC, why I write this blog. Why I’m committed to being a voice in workplace reform. Losing everything forced me to see the system clearly—and now I help others beat it at its own game. Because innovation can’t just be about products, it has to be about people. And no, I don’t mean framed ‘core values’ on lobby walls, but actual systems that protect and continue to develop high performers, especially when the environment changes.
If you’ve experienced something similar: That wasn’t right. Your talent wasn’t the problem. The system was. And it’s time we demanded better.
If you suspect you’re next, I want to help you. Don’t wait for the invisible erosion to complete. I have strategies that can help, but timing matters.
If you’re in leadership: If you’re in the C-suite, upper management, or anywhere you influence these decisions—especially if layoff lists are filling your calendar (because yes, they always seem to come around the holidays)—it’s not too late. Cutting costs by cutting people is easy. But they didn’t hire you to do the easy stuff. They hired you because you’re exceptional. SO BE EXCEPTIONAL: let’s explore approaches that protect legacies while managing budgets.
The obvious bad bosses are easy to spot. The quiet sabotage is harder. But the hardest thing to see, until it’s too late, is a system that treats talent as disposable. Let’s make it impossible to ignore.
What’s your story? Have you experienced quiet sabotage or been caught in the crossfire of leadership transitions? Are you a leader who’s had to make these tough calls and wants to do it differently? Share in the comments. Let’s shine a light on what companies aren’t measuring.
A note from Erin: Thank you for being here! If these ideas or perspectives resonate with you, I’d love for you to subscribe or share them with someone you care about. If you want to make a change or when the time feels right, I’m here to help. Check out my NEW WEBSITE to explore how we can work together—or swing by my “CONTACT” page to say hello, ask a question, or start a conversation.
