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By:

Rahul Kulkarni

30 March 2025 at 3:32:54 pm

The Boundary Collapse

When kindness becomes micromanagement It started with a simple leave request.   “Hey, can I take Friday off? Need a personal day,” Meera messaged Rohit. Rohit replied instantly:   “Of course. All good. Just stay reachable if anything urgent comes up.”   He meant it as reassurance. But the team didn’t hear reassurance. They heard a rule.   By noon, two things had shifted inside The Workshop:   Meera felt guilty for even asking. Everyone else quietly updated their mental handbook: Leave is...

The Boundary Collapse

When kindness becomes micromanagement It started with a simple leave request.   “Hey, can I take Friday off? Need a personal day,” Meera messaged Rohit. Rohit replied instantly:   “Of course. All good. Just stay reachable if anything urgent comes up.”   He meant it as reassurance. But the team didn’t hear reassurance. They heard a rule.   By noon, two things had shifted inside The Workshop:   Meera felt guilty for even asking. Everyone else quietly updated their mental handbook: Leave is allowed… but not really. This is boundary collapse… when a leader’s good intentions unintentionally blur the limits that protect autonomy and rest. When care quietly turns into control Founders rarely intend to micromanage.   What looks like control from the outside often starts as care from the inside. “Let me help before something breaks.” “Let me stay involved so we don’t lose time.” “Loop me in… I don’t want you stressed.” Supportive tone.   Good intentions.   But one invisible truth defines workplace psychology: When power says “optional,” it never feels optional.
So when a client requested a revision, Rohit gently pinged:   “If you’re free, could you take a look?” Of course she logged in.   Of course she handled it.   And by Monday, the cultural shift was complete: Leave = location change, not a boundary.   A founder’s instinct had quietly become a system. Pattern 1: The Generous Micromanager Modern micromanagement rarely looks aggressive. It looks thoughtful :   “Let me refine this so you’re not stuck.” “I’ll review it quickly.”   “Share drafts so we stay aligned.”   Leaders believe they’re being helpful. Teams hear:   “You don’t fully trust me.” “I should check with you before finishing anything.”   “My decisions aren’t final.” Gentle micromanagement shrinks ownership faster than harsh micromanagement ever did because people can’t challenge kindness. Pattern 2: Cultural conditioning around availability In many Indian workplaces, “time off” has an unspoken footnote: Be reachable. Just in case. No one says it directly.   No one pushes back openly.   The expectation survives through habit: Leave… but monitor messages. Rest… but don’t disconnect. Recover… but stay alert. Contrast this with a global team we worked with: A designer wrote,   “I’ll be off Friday, but available if needed.” Her manager replied:   “If you’re working on your off-day, we mismanaged the workload… not the boundary.”   One conversation.   Two cultural philosophies.   Two completely different emotional outcomes.   Pattern 3: The override reflex Every founder has a version of this reflex.   Whenever Rohit sensed risk, real or imagined, he stepped in: Rewriting copy.   Adjusting a design.   Rescoping a task.   Reframing an email. Always fast.   Always polite.   Always “just helping.” But each override delivered one message:   “Your autonomy is conditional.” You own decisions…   until the founder feels uneasy.   You take initiative…   until instinct replaces delegation.   No confrontation.   No drama.   Just quiet erosion of confidence.   The family-business amplification Boundary collapse becomes extreme in family-managed companies.   We worked with one firm where four family members… founder, spouse, father, cousin… all had informal authority. Everyone cared.   Everyone meant well.   But for employees, decision-making became a maze: Strategy approved by the founder.   Aesthetics by the spouse.   Finance by the father. Tone by the cousin.   They didn’t need leadership.   They needed clarity.   Good intentions without boundaries create internal anarchy. The global contrast A European product team offered a striking counterexample.   There, the founder rarely intervened mid-stream… not because of distance, but because of design:   “If you own the decision, you own the consequences.” Decision rights were clear.   Escalation paths were explicit.   Authority didn’t shift with mood or urgency. No late-night edits.   No surprise rewrites.   No “quick checks.”   No emotional overrides. As one designer put it:   “If my boss wants to intervene, he has to call a decision review. That friction protects my autonomy.” The result:   Faster execution, higher ownership and zero emotional whiplash. Boundaries weren’t personal.   They were structural .   That difference changes everything. Why boundary collapse is so costly Its damage is not dramatic.   It’s cumulative.   People stop resting → you get presence, not energy.   People stop taking initiative → decisions freeze.   People stop trusting empowerment → autonomy becomes theatre.   People start anticipating the boss → performance becomes emotional labour.   People burn out silently → not from work, but from vigilance.   Boundary collapse doesn’t create chaos.   It creates hyper-alertness, the heaviest tax on any team. The real paradox Leaders think they’re being supportive. Teams experience supervision.   Leaders assume boundaries are obvious. Teams see boundaries as fluid. Leaders think autonomy is granted. Teams act as though autonomy can be revoked at any moment. This is the Boundary Collapse → a misunderstanding born not from intent, but from the invisible weight of power. Micromanagement today rarely looks like anger.   More often,   it looks like kindness without limits. (Rahul Kulkarni is Co-founder at PPS Consulting. He patterns the human mechanics of scaling where workplace behavior quietly shapes business outcomes. Views personal.)

Cricket’s Latest Gift to the Lazy Elite

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In a move that’s sure to revolutionize domestic cricket – or at least give senior players a golden excuse to lounge in the pavilion with a cold one – the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) has graciously introduced the “serious injury replacement substitute” rule for the 2025-26 season. Inspired, apparently, by heart-wrenching tales like Rishabh Pant’s injury woes, this noble edict allows teams to swap out a player who’s suffered a “serious” injury mid-match, preventing them from heroically hobbling on and risking further damage. How thoughtful! Because nothing says player welfare like handing over the reins to a fresh substitute from the bench, all while the umpires play doctor and decide if it’s legit. On paper, it’s a masterstroke of compassion. But let’s peel back the layers, shall we? This rule is a sarcasm goldmine, ripe for rampant misuse by those grizzled veterans who’ve seen more IPL auctions than actual fitness drills.


Picture this: It’s a sweltering afternoon in the Ranji Trophy, the pitch is a minefield, and your team’s star senior batsman – let’s call him “Captain Evergreen,” a 35-year-old legend whose knees creak louder than the stadium gates – faces a fiery young pacer. One bouncer whizzes past his helmet, and suddenly, oh dear, he’s clutching his shoulder like he’s been shot by a cannon. “Serious injury!” he wails, dramatic as a Bollywood death scene. The physio rushes in, the umpires confer, and poof! In comes a spry substitute from the reserves, while Captain Evergreen retires to the dressing room for an “extended recovery session” that suspiciously involves scrolling Instagram and sipping chai. Misuse? Perish the thought! This is just the rule working as intended – if “intended” means giving seniors a get-out-of-jail-free card for when the going gets tough.


And why stop at genuine discomfort? Senior players, those wise old foxes who’ve mastered the art of selective participation, could turn this into a veritable art form. Imagine the excuses: “Ouch, my hamstring twinged while tying my shoelaces!” or “Doctor, it’s a serious case of… selective amnesia about how to face spin.” The rule stipulates the replacement comes from the nominated substitutes at the toss, but who’s to say teams won’t stack their bench with all-rounders ready to step in at a moment’s notice? It’s like having a backup band for when the lead singer decides he’s too “injured” to hit the high notes. Humorously, one could envision a scenario where the entire senior brigade coordinates “injuries” in rotation – today it’s the opener’s mysterious back spasm during a chase, tomorrow the all-rounder’s sudden elbow flare-up when bowling uphill. The youngsters grind it out, while the vets preserve their bodies for those lucrative T20 leagues. Player welfare, my foot; this is welfare for the well-paid!Let’s not forget the wicketkeeper exception, that delightful loophole where teams might snag a specialist gloveman from outside the original subs if their keeper goes down. Brilliant! Now, a crafty senior keeper could “injure” himself early – say, by “diving” for a ball that was miles wide – and summon a fresh face while he kicks back. “Sorry lads, my gloves are giving me blisters… serious ones!” he’d quip, as the team suddenly fields two keepers for the price of one mishap. The potential for abuse is endless, especially in multi-day formats where fatigue sets in like an unwanted houseguest. Senior players, already masters of the “strategic rest” in international cricket, could exploit this to dodge the drudgery of fielding on day four or batting against a reversing ball. It’s almost comical how this rule, meant to shield the brave, might instead empower the cunning. Teams could even game the system: Nominate a bunch of versatile subs, then “injure” a senior to unleash a tactical wildcard. Umpires and referees might as well carry stethoscopes alongside their light meters.


Of course, the BCCI assures us this is all above board, with umpires holding the veto power. But in the heat of domestic cricket, where passions run high and scrutiny runs low, how foolproof is that? We’ve seen players milk timeouts for “cramps” that vanish miraculously post-match; now amplify that with a full substitution. It’s a recipe for hilarity – or hypocrisy, depending on your view. Senior players, those paragons of experience, might start viewing matches as optional excursions. “Why risk my golden years on this dusty track when I can invoke the magic rule and watch from the sidelines?” they’d chuckle. And let’s be real: In a country where cricket is religion, fans might even cheer it on, mistaking it for “smart management.” But deep down, it’s a farce that could erode the spirit of the game, turning domestic cricket into a senior citizens’ spa retreat.


In conclusion, kudos to the BCCI for this “innovative” rule – it’s sure to keep our veterans fresh, fabulous, and far from the fray. Who needs grit when you have substitutes? Perhaps next, they’ll introduce “serious boredom replacement” for when the match drags on. Until then, let’s watch as this well-intentioned safeguard becomes the ultimate loophole for the elite. Cricket just got a whole lot funnier – and a tad less fair.


(The Writer is a senior journalist based in Mumbai. Views personal.)

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