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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.)

The Emperor’s Enduring Mind

Updated: Mar 12


Roger Penrose
Roger Penrose

I recently picked up ‘The Impossible Man’ - journalist Patchen Barss’ biography of British mathematical physicist and philosopher Roger Penrose with some anticipation but more wariness. Penrose is, after all, one of the greatest living physicists, second only to Einstein in some respects.

A childhood icon - ‘The Emperor’s New Mind’ disrupted my mind when I was 12 - Penrose is a thinker whose insights into black holes, space-time and the deep structure of reality have left even his most brilliant peers racing to keep up.


As I feared, Barss’ book is not what Penrose deserves. It tells us what kind of man he is, but hardly enough about the ideas that make him singular.

This is not surprising. Penrose has always resisted the easy narratives that biographers crave. Unlike Stephen Hawking, whose ‘A Brief History of Time’ became a cultural phenomenon despite being one of the most unread bestsellers of all time, Penrose never sought to popularize for the sake of mass appeal. Unlike Michio Kaku, whose cheerful speculations about parallel universes and time travel have made him a fixture of science documentaries, Penrose has little interest in playing to the crowd.


His classics like ‘The Road to Reality,’ ‘Fashion, Faith and Fantasy in the New Physics of the Universe’ - are uncompromising works, brimming with deep mathematics and philosophical rigor. They do not pander. They demand.

That is the core of what makes Penrose different. His work is not about selling physics to the public but about understanding reality. And that reality, to Penrose, has always been geometric.


His early breakthroughs were in mathematical physics, where he developed the Penrose diagram - a way of mapping the twisted fabric of space-time around black holes. In 1965, he demonstrated that singularities (points where gravity becomes infinite) are an inevitable consequence of Einstein’s general relativity. Hawking would later extend this work, but it was Penrose who laid the mathematical foundations.


He devised Penrose tilings, non-repeating patterns that cover an infinite plane without gaps. This idea turned out to have deep implications for quasicrystals, materials whose atomic structures mirror these patterns. He even took a toilet-paper manufacturer to court for using his tiling design without permission, arguing that their quilted patterns could, in theory, be infinitely extended without repetition. (He won)


But it is in cosmology that Penrose has been at his most audacious. His Conformal Cyclic Cosmology (CCC), outlined in ‘Cycles of Time,’ suggests that the universe is not a one-time event but an infinite series of “aeons,” where the end of one cosmos seeds the birth of another.

When black holes swallow all the matter in the universe and eventually evaporate, what remains is a sea of photons - particles that do not experience time. It undergoes a conformal transformation, wherein the universe, reduced to massless and timeless photons, is rescaled into a new Big Bang. Penrose claims evidence lies in Cosmic Microwave Background data, recently supported by a team of researchers, though the topic remains controversial.


Mainstream physics leans heavily toward inflationary models, where the early universe underwent a rapid expansion. But Penrose has never been one to follow the pack. His critiques of string theory (beloved by many physicists, including Kaku) are unsparing - dismissing it as a mathematical game, devoid of experimental grounding. Likewise, he has been deeply sceptical of the many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics, which postulates every quantum event spawns an infinite number of parallel universes. To Penrose, this is fantasy, not physics.


It is precisely this independence of thought that makes Penrose indispensable. In a scientific landscape increasingly dominated by theories that prioritize mathematical beauty over empirical testability, he remains a bulwark against intellectual complacency.


(The author is a U.S.-based data scientist)

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