What happens in the rooms with no windows

Photo by Felix Mittermeier.

By Johnathan Nightingale

Every office has them. In Mozilla’s Castro St offices, it was room “3S — Strong Bad”. I made lots of trips to California in those days. I sat in lots of meeting rooms. I knew which ones had spare MacBook power adapters and which ones got hot in the afternoon when the sun came in. There was only one reason someone would ask to meet in room 3S specifically.

3S was the only room on that floor with no window to the hallway. 3S was where you went when you wanted to cry.

You Might Have Fucked Up

When a coworker starts to cry, it’s natural to freak out. If you’re new to this, and it’s just happened for the first time and you manage this person (and they’re no longer in the room): go ahead. Freaking out is a mostly healthy empathic response and it’s possible those tears are a sign that you have screwed things up badly.

How you resolve that is a whole different post than the one I’m writing today, though. In the meantime, just do everything Ijeoma Oluo says. Apologize like a grown up.

But You Probably Haven’t

Truth be told, most of the tears I’ve seen at work had nothing to do with me. They were from people not even in my organization. Sometimes people just need to cry and have someone listen.

People bring their whole selves to work. We tell them to. We talk about passion and dedication. We celebrate their heroics. We ask them to go above and beyond. We shouldn’t be surprised when that overflows.

I’ve had people in rooms without windows cry about problems in their marriage, dying family members, dying pets, harassment from an ex-boyfriend, romances with other employees, quitting jobs, hating their manager, overwork, wanting different work, wanting to move, and more than once for reasons they wouldn’t or couldn’t tell me.

I’ve even had people tell me not to freak out, that they cry when they’re working something out and that I shouldn’t think more of it than that. Crying is just part of their process. Okay.

High School

For me — and I bet for many of you — teary people come naturally. In high school I’d always have friends who needed to talk.

I have a thing to tell you but you have to promise to keep it quiet.

I’d always agree. I wanted to be helpful. I think, by and large, I kept those confidences, too. It’s nice to feel trusted. And why wouldn’t you listen if that’s all your friend needs?

Now I’m in tech, and what I’ve seen is that startups and other high-intensity employment build strong relationships quickly. When your colleagues are also friends, it seems cold to maintain professional boundaries. It can feel a lot like high school.

But you are not in high school. And running the same relationship scripts you did in high school is a mistake with real consequences.

You Are About To Fuck Up

Ever been deposed? I have and you don’t want to be. It’s no fun. It’s lawyers and voice recorders in a conference room that’s too hot. It’s mundane, repetitive questions that jump around and backtrack. It’s poking at you from different angles to see if your story is consistent. It’s surprise questions about your personal life that you don’t even have to answer. That seem designed just to put you on edge, or to make you feel guilty. It’s wondering about the story behind every question.

And between questions it’s quiet. Just the scratch of pencils making extensive notes about what you’ve said. Someone pouring lukewarm coffee into a mug. Someone asking if you’re ready to continue.

This is true even when you aren’t part of the thing being investigated. I can only imagine that if I had known actual details, it would have gone much worse. It doesn’t take much imagination to realize how much more awful the experience was for the people involved.

So let’s talk about those secrets again.

By the Time You’ve Heard it, it’s too Late

It turns out that when you’re not in high school, some confidences are hard to keep. Many states require any report of harassment, assault, or hostile work environment to be investigated. I’m not a lawyer, but I’ve had more than one remind me and my managers that failure to report isn’t just a liability for the company, but a personal liability for me as a member of management.

I believe pretty strongly that any action in such a case should be driven by what the victim needs. But my belief doesn’t change local labour law and neither does yours. If whatever this secret is hits the light of day, and you’re found to have concealed it, it will not go well for you. And the legal machine is likely to trudge forward whether the victim wants it to or not.

I understand the desire to be helpful, but when someone says, “I have a thing to tell you but you have to promise to keep it quiet,” just stop for a minute. Think, before you say, “Of course.” Taking that information on, and then at some point sharing it with others, re-victimizes this person you are trying to help.

Do you actually intend to lie under deposition? I’m a pretty clever fellow, but even if I wanted to I don’t think I could have kept up a set of false denials that long. It’s an utterly exhausting process. If you don’t plan to, then you owe it to them to be honest up front. “I want to help any way I can, but understand that part of being a manager here is that I have to report some things whenever I hear them.” Let them decide whether they can accept that or not.

You can tell me you don’t like that. That it’s less fun, and sounds officious, and hurts rapport. I don’t like it much, either. But it’s not really about what you or I think, and denial doesn’t help. You’re not in high school, the stakes are higher.

The only thing worse than not being there for someone who’s been victimized is setting them up to be victimized again so that you can feel better in the moment.

Post script

People still want to cry sometimes, and I still listen. I still want to help, and feel fortunate and honoured that it’s something people trust me with. I do warn people up front which things I have to act on, and it probably does put some distance between us that I wish we didn’t need.

If you’re one of those people, or if you’re someone with a secret, I hope you’ll find your support. And if it is the kind of thing that should be reported, I hope you’ll find the strength to do so, and that your management team listens, investigates, and believes you. I know that’s a lot to hope for, and I understand if you just can’t.

God, people are tough.