Stop Forcing Me Into Your Box: A Human Story from HR
For nearly three years, I've carried the dual responsibility of heading Human Resources and Administration in a small school. It's not a role that comes with the glamor of a red carpet or the applause of an audience, but it's one that has taught me more about people than any textbook could ever capture. If there's one lesson that shines through all my experiences, it's that people love to build a box for you, and the moment you refuse to fit in, you become the villain in their story.
In my role, I've discovered that this box is not a neat little gift. It's more like a cage, padded with biases and tied together with strings of expectation. The box tells you how you should act, how you should speak, how you should manage. Step an inch outside, and suddenly you're the problem, the enemy, the one who doesn't care.
Take attendance, for example. At its core, one of HR's primary duties is simple: monitor staff attendance, ensure promptness, and maintain discipline in the workplace. Rationally speaking, this isn't rocket science. Everyone knows that being absent requires permission, except, of course, in emergencies. Yet, in practice, doing this basic duty turned me into something of a villain in the eyes of some staff.
In the beginning, I was everyone's friend. I was approachable, cheerful, and quick to encourage. I rarely punished anyone, even when the infractions were clear as daylight. I wanted to believe that kindness alone would motivate people to act right. I wanted to be the good HR, the one that everyone liked.
But then, generosity backfired.
Late-coming became casual. Absenteeism slowly turned into a trend. People began to take my leniency for granted. Before I knew it, I was managing an orchestra of excuses, where punctuality was out of tune and accountability had gone on vacation.
That was when reality hit me: I was failing.
The strangest twist was what happened next. When I finally decided to enforce the rules, when I began to demand absenteeism and lateness as my job demanded, suddenly, I wasn't the friendly HR anymore. I was uncaring. I was too strict. Staff who had absented themselves without permission began to gaslight me. They suggested that I should care about why they were absent rather than asking them for being absent without permission. The irony was suffocating.
In that moment, I realized the box they had built for me. A smiling, ever-understanding, never-questioning HR who prioritized friendship over fairness. They wanted me to manage their emotions, not their responsibilities. The box was cozy for them, but suffocating for me.
And isn't that how life works? People build boxes for all of us.
The parent who wants you to live the life they never had.
The boss who wants you to be endlessly available, even at the cost of your well-being.
The friend who expects your world to revolve around their problems.
The society that tells you to play small because your light threatens their comfort.
Every box is a prison of someone else's expectations. Step out, and suddenly you're selfish, mean, uncaring, or worse.
But here's what I've learned. It's better to be hated for who you truly are than to be loved for fitting into someone else's box.
As HR, my job isn't to win a popularity contest. My duty is to ensure fairness, discipline, and accountability. And yes, I can be kind, but kindness doesn't mean turning a blind eye to negligence. Discipline, after all, is a form of care. Holding people accountable is an act of respect, because it says, I believe you can do better, and I won't let you settle for less.
This realization was liberating. I stopped apologizing for doing my job. I stopped shrinking to fit into their imaginary model of the perfect HR. Instead, I embraced my role fully: a balance of friendliness and firmness, encouragement and accountability.
Stepping out of the box is uncomfortable. You'll be misunderstood, judged, and even resented. But what's the alternative? Living in a box so tight that you can't breathe? Playing a role so fake that you lose yourself in the process?
No, thank you.
Life is too vast, too unpredictable, too wild to live inside someone else's cardboard imagination. You are more than their labels, more than their biases, more than the box they've built for you. Step out, even if it makes you the villain in their story, because at least you'll remain the hero in your own
So, the next time someone tries to fit you into their box, remember that the problem isn't that you don't fit. The problem is that their box is too small to hold who you truly are.