The Performance We Call Professional
Someone on Reddit sparked an interesting discussion the other day about their manager’s Jekyll-and-Hyde routine during Teams meetings. Camera on? All smiles, warmth, and “how’s your day been, guys?” Camera off? Stone cold silence, even when sitting right next to them in the office. The original poster seemed genuinely baffled by this behaviour, wondering if they were dealing with some kind of corporate narcissist.
Reading through the thread, I found myself nodding along with most of the responses. This isn’t narcissism – it’s just the exhausting reality of modern professional life, particularly for introverts who’ve climbed into management roles.
The comments section became a bit of a support group for high-masking introverts, and honestly, it was refreshing to see. People openly acknowledging that the friendly, engaged persona they project in meetings isn’t fake, exactly, but it’s not their natural state either. It’s a performance that requires genuine effort and leaves them completely drained by day’s end. One person described needing to “power down between interactions to recharge,” and another mentioned how customer-facing work leaves them “wrecked by the end of the day.”
I’ve worked with plenty of these folks over my years in IT. The DevOps manager who’s brilliant at facilitating sprint retrospectives but will literally put on headphones and face the wall between meetings. The team lead who can charm stakeholders in a presentation but communicates exclusively through Slack when there’s actual work to be done. We’ve all encountered this, and most of us have probably been this at some point.
The hybrid work situation adds another layer to all of this. When you’ve got team members in the office, others working from home, and some connecting from halfway around the world, the pressure to perform increases. You can’t rely on casual corridor conversations or reading the room’s body language. Everything has to be amplified and intentional. Someone in the thread suggested the manager might be “trying extra hard to make those in India feel part of the team and cared about,” which struck me as quite perceptive. When you’re managing across time zones and cultures, you often end up overcompensating with enthusiasm to bridge that digital divide.
But here’s what bothers me about this whole situation: why do we accept that this level of performance is necessary? Why have we created work environments where people feel they can’t just be themselves? The fact that so many people in that thread identified with the behaviour tells me this isn’t an individual problem – it’s a systemic one.
I think about the junior developers I’ve mentored over the years. The pressure they feel to always appear engaged, enthusiastic, and “switched on” in every meeting, even when they’re drowning in work or dealing with personal issues. The expectation that you’ll maintain a certain professional persona regardless of whether it aligns with your actual personality. It’s no wonder mental health issues are so prevalent in the corporate world.
What struck me most about the discussion was how many people described this behaviour as “professional masking” – a term usually associated with neurodivergent individuals hiding their true selves to fit in. When masking becomes the standard expectation for everyone, regardless of neurotype, we’ve got a problem. We’re essentially asking people to spend eight-plus hours a day being someone they’re not, then wondering why burnout rates keep climbing.
The pandemic gave us a glimpse of something different. During those first few lockdowns, when we were all video calling from our couches with kids and pets interrupting, there was this brief moment of authenticity. People showed up to meetings in hoodies. We saw each other’s messy backgrounds. The performance slipped, just a bit, and the world didn’t end. But somehow, we’ve managed to snap back to the old expectations, now with the added pressure of being “camera ready” multiple times a day.
Look, I’m not suggesting managers should be emotionally volatile or treat their teams differently depending on their mood. Professional consistency matters. But there’s got to be a middle ground between toxic authenticity and exhausting performance. Maybe it’s okay to say “I’m a bit flat today” in a stand-up. Maybe we don’t need to open every meeting with enthusiastic small talk if it doesn’t come naturally. Maybe introverted managers can be respected for their thoughtful, measured approach rather than pressured to mimic extroverted leadership styles.
The person who started this discussion sits right near their manager and notices the stark difference between camera-on and camera-off behaviour. That proximity gives them a unique perspective, but it also highlights something important: we’re all performing to some degree, and the people closest to us see the cracks. The question isn’t whether someone’s behaviour is weird or narcissistic – it’s whether our work culture is sustainable when it demands this level of constant performance from everyone.
We need to build workplaces where people can bring more of their authentic selves without fear of being seen as unprofessional or uncommitted. Where being quiet and heads-down between meetings is seen as focus, not rudeness. Where leaders can model different styles of engagement without having to channel the same high-energy persona every single time they’re on camera.
Until then, I suppose we’ll keep donning our professional masks each morning, perfecting our Teams personas, and retreating into silence the moment the camera clicks off. Just don’t be surprised when that approach leaves everyone absolutely exhausted.