You know the scene.
You’re at one of those corporate coaching sessions. You sit down, coffee in hand, and raise an eyebrow. Something already smells off. And it’s not the cheap incense they lit for “ambience” or the jute rug they hauled in from Zara Home.
It’s the guy at the front.
The corporate guru.
The “emotional heir of the village priest.”
Except now, instead of a sermon, he’s serving a cocktail of mystical buzzwords, English catchphrases, and pseudo-scientific theories — as if he’d just strolled down from Mount Sinai with a PowerPoint and an Excel sheet. And you sit there thinking: Is this guy for real?
He’s never done a day’s real work. Straight out of a factory of expensive certificates, polished smiles, and mortgaged souls.
You glance around the room, hoping for an ally. A look that says: “This is a joke, right?”
But no.
Everyone’s nodding along, blissed out like they’ve just taken MDMA for the first time. Smiling. Floating. Like their chakras just got aligned by a QR code.
Then comes the script:
— “Let’s empty ourselves to connect with the system’s emerging power.”
— “Leadership lives in the shadows. Dance with it!”
— “Don’t think, feeeeel…”
And of course, the dreaded “activity.”
Eyes turn toward you.
But you didn’t come here to re-enact childhood trauma, dance in front of Javier from Accounting, or bare your soul to Coldplay in the background. You came because you’re an adult with rent to pay — and HR told you to.
Then the pressure begins:
— Step out of your comfort zone.
— You’re being closed-minded.
— If you don’t join in, you’re being unfair to the group.
Unfair? To what? To a coercive system dressed up as mindfulness?
You raise your hand. Calm. Professional.
“Excuse me — where do these ideas come from? What’s the evidence? What theory supports this?”
That’s when the mask slips.
The Buddha smile falters. The guru gaze narrows. Suddenly, you’re not part of the group anymore. You’re “the problem.”
— “You’re too in your head,” he says. “I don’t know where it comes from, but I know it works.”
— “Works for what?” you ask. “How does this actually help us in our jobs?”
And then comes the hatred, dressed up as compassion. The room turns. Not with arguments, but with silence and sidelong glances.
A few smirk, half-in solidarity, but no one speaks. You’re left alone.
Meanwhile, the trainer doubles down — superiority dripping from every word, elite accent polished, peddling family constellations and pseudo-therapy without a license.
And you realise:
This isn’t training.
It’s ritual.
A performance of collective submission.
The rule is simple:
Don’t think. Don’t ask. Don’t disrupt the flow.
But once you see the trap, you can’t unsee it.
What would Solomon Asch say?
#toxicworkplace #corporatecoaching #pseudotherapy #coercivecontrol #HRculture #mindfulnessmyth #trainingfail