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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.)

Konkan’s Election Dilemma: Progress or Preservation? 

Updated: Oct 22, 2024

Konkan

The Chipi Airport, a gleaming gateway to Sindhudurg district which was inaugurated in 2021, has inspired hopes of an economic transformation in the Konkan region. For decades, locals have migrated to Mumbai and Pune in search of better employment opportunities, but the promise of economic growth, driven by enhanced connectivity, has kindled optimism.


Yet as the region prepares for the Assembly polls on November 20, the airport is but one part of a mosaic of political and economic issues. In every election cycle, voters in this coastal stretch of Maharashtra grapple with a familiar dilemma: the potential benefits of development versus the costs to their cherished natural environment. The potential for new jobs and entrepreneurial ventures in tourism and agriculture offers a tantalizing glimpse of a future in which the Konkan need not rely solely on its distant cities for prosperity.


While Chipi heralds new opportunities, the larger debate on development in the Konkan revolves around more controversial projects, none more divisive than the Ratnagiri Refinery and Petrochemicals Ltd (RRPCL). The proposed mega-refinery at Barsu, projected to bring investment and thousands of jobs to the region, has instead ignited fierce protests.


The ruling Mahayuti coalition led by Chief Minister Eknath Shinde and the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) had largely remained cautious over openly discussing the refinery during the Lok Sabha polls even when both Shinde and Deputy CM Devendra Fadnavis had expressed keenness in reviving the Rs. 3.5 lakh crore oil refinery project at Nanar which the opposition Uddhav Thackeray-led Shiv Sena (UBT) has strenuously opposed.


The refinery project had earlier been scrapped by then CM Fadnavis (2014-19), following opposition from the BJP’s then ally, the Thackeray’s undivided Shiv Sena. Thackeray’s Sena (UBT) has now positioned itself as the guardian of the environment, calling for sustainable development that aligns with local sentiment.


The Konkan’s environmental credentials are strong, and its history of opposing large industrial projects, such as the Dabhol power plant and the Jaitapur nuclear project, remains fresh in the minds of its people. Anti-refinery protestors argue that their livelihoods, rooted in agriculture and fishing, would be irrevocably harmed by pollution from the refinery, just as previous generations fought to protect the region from industrial encroachment.


The BJP’s strongman in this region is Narayan Rane, the Union Minister for Micro, Small, and Medium Enterprises, who had won the Ratnagiri-Sindhudurg Lok Sabha constituency in the general election in June by trouncing the Shiv Sena (UBT)’s candidate and former MP Vinayak Raut.


Rane has championed industrial development, but even his stance on the refinery remains carefully calibrated to avoid alienating local voters.


Then again, besides big industrial projects, many Konkan residents demand more investment in sectors like agro-processing, fisheries and eco-tourism (for which the region offers ample opportunities) to ensure sustainable, long-term growth.


Konkan’s voters want growth, but they demand that it comes on their terms. In this election, as in many before it, the question remains can Maharashtra’s leaders deliver progress without sacrificing the natural and cultural wealth that makes the Konkan unique?

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