The Hidden Power Plays of Workplace Cliques
In toxic workplaces, even something as simple as a lunch invitation can become a performance. On the surface, it looks like bonding or team spirit. But when you scratch beneath, you often find power plays, hidden agendas, and exclusion tactics designed to reinforce a pecking order.
Recently, I experienced this firsthand.
I had been left out of group lunches before — the Lunch Lady once went around to every cubicle asking what people wanted, deliberately skipping mine. About a week later, she tried to smooth things over with candy, but even that “kindness” felt performative. Soon after, a so-called flying monkey (a coworker who often runs interference for the bully I call Negative Nag) invited me last minute to lunch. Her invite seemed sincere, so I decided to go — partly out of curiosity, partly to see if I was missing out on anything.
I wasn’t.
When I arrived, I noticed the awkward dynamics immediately. Negative Nag seemed shocked to see me, forcing a smile, and even placed items in front of her to block me from sitting near her. I found a spot across from the flying monkey and braced myself. Throughout lunch, it was clear they weren’t comfortable with my presence, but I stayed calm. A kind face from my past career stopped by the table, giving me grace in a moment I felt unwelcome, and I used conversation to redirect their digs into something more grounded and positive.
Here’s the kicker, though: the Lunch Lady who had helped make the plans didn’t even show up. That’s when it hit me — these lunches aren’t really about food or friendship. They’re about power. Someone always bails, someone always dominates, someone always gets excluded. The lunch table isn’t about connection; it’s a stage where toxic personalities perform, jockey for control, and reinforce cliques.
And honestly? I realized I wasn’t missing out on anything at all.
Grey rocking — staying neutral and disengaged from the drama — has helped me navigate these situations, but it’s exhausting to flatten myself down day after day. I’m naturally quiet and introverted, but I’m also a person with a voice, accomplishments, and a history worth respecting. I can weigh when it’s safe to speak up, but I won’t keep pretending that silence is my only option.
The lesson? Don’t confuse exclusion from a toxic performance with actual loss. Sometimes being left out means you’re being protected from shallow games that were never meant to feed you in the first place.
When a toxic circle tries to shut you out, don’t chase a seat at their table — build your own, and let your calm confidence be the thing they can’t imitate or erase.
My Voice Unchained 