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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.)

How to Gift England 600 Runs with a Smile

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Shubman Gill, India’s bright-eyed “Prince” of cricket, was anointed Test captain at the tender age of 25. What a glorious spectacle it was to watch him helm India’s ship during the fourth Test against England at Old Trafford. With the series on a knife’s edge, young Gill, in only his fourth game as captain, decided to showcase his tactical genius—or lack thereof—by allowing England to pile up a colossal 600-plus runs. Truly, a masterclass in how to let a game slip through your fingers like sand at a beach party you didn’t mean to attend.


Let’s set the scene: India, trailing 2-1, needed to claw their way back. England, led by the relentless Ben Stokes, Zak Crawley, and Ben Duckett, were ready to feast on India’s bowling attack. And feast they did, thanks to Gill’s innovative approach to captaincy, which seemed to involve waiting for divine intervention while England’s batsmen treated the Indian bowlers like piñatas at a birthday bash. By the end of Day 3, England had swaggered to 544/7, eventually crossing 600, leaving India’s bowlers looking like they’d just run a marathon in flip-flops.


Now, let’s talk about Gill’s pièce de résistance: his baffling reluctance to use spin. India, a nation synonymous with spin wizardry, boasts a legacy of twirlers who’ve made batsmen dance to their tunes. Yet, Gill, in his infinite wisdom, decided to keep Washington Sundar cooling his heels until the 69th over. Sixty-nine overs! That’s not a bowling change; that’s a geological era. Sundar, who had taken four wickets in the previous Test at Lord’s, was apparently deemed less threatening than a gentle breeze. Meanwhile, England’s batsmen were having a picnic, piling on runs as Gill stuck with his pacers, Jasprit Bumrah and Mohammed Siraj, like a kid clinging to his favorite toy long after it’s broken.


Sanjay Manjrekar, never one to mince words, called this a “major red flag” in Gill’s captaincy, suggesting the young skipper didn’t rate his spinners. Ravi Shastri, with the exasperation of a man watching his team ignore a cheat code, urged Gill to trust Sundar more, pointing out how spinners thrive on longer spells. But no, Gill preferred to let England’s batsmen settle in, offering them the kind of comfort you’d expect from a five-star resort, not a Test match.


Then there’s the team selection—oh, what a stroke of brilliance! With injuries to Arshdeep Singh and Akash Deep, India had a golden opportunity to unleash Kuldeep Yadav, the left-arm wrist-spinner who’s been known to tie batsmen in knots. Instead, Gill and the think-tank opted for debutant medium-pacer Anshul Kamboj, prioritising batting depth over a genuine wicket-taking threat. Because, clearly, when you’re up against a rampaging England side, what you need is another tail-ender to pad the scorecard, not a bowler who might actually disrupt the party.


Gill’s field placements were equally inspired. Social media was abuzz with fans lamenting his reactive approach, with one user brilliantly summarizing it: “Place a fielder where the previous ball boundary was scored. That’s it.” Proactive captaincy? Nah, that’s for amateurs.


To be fair, Gill’s inexperience is as glaring as a neon sign in a blackout. Thrust into the deep end against a formidable England side in seaming conditions, he’s been handed a captaincy role that even seasoned pros would find daunting. This isn’t the IPL, where he led Gujarat Titans to a respectable third place in 2025. This is Test cricket in England, where the ghosts of Anderson and Broad still linger, and every decision is scrutinized like a crime scene. Stuart Broad, in a rare moment of empathy, defended Gill, noting that even Pat Cummins struggled to contain England at Old Trafford in 2023. But let’s not get carried away with the sympathy card—Gill’s job is to lead, not to learn on the fly while England rack up runs like they’re playing a video game on easy mode.


And yet, there’s a glimmer of irony here. Gill, the batsman, has been nothing short of sensational. His 430 runs in the second Test at Edgbaston, including a record-breaking 269 and a 161, made him the first player in 148 years to score a double century and a 150 in the same match. He’s shattered records faster than a toddler breaks toys, becoming the second Indian captain to score centuries in his first two Tests. But captaincy? That’s a different beast. While his bat sings, his leadership stumbles, like a karaoke singer forgetting the lyrics mid-song.


So, what’s the verdict? Gill’s captaincy in the fourth Test was a case study in how not to do it.


(The writer is a senior journalist based in Mumbai.)

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