A team is not a family
We can be friendly, but we cannot be friends
My first manager was very informal with me and treated me almost like a friend1. I joined the company at a time when everything was great, business was booming, and our group was growing every year. Every year we had an offsite, and for a few years in a row, at every offsite the size of the team was double. The entire organization was close-knit and supportive, with a great sense of loyalty and belonging. Then the company missed guidance in one quarter, a round of layoffs happened, my manager was let go, and everything turned darker after that. I left that company three years later because I felt the peak days were behind us.
It is very attractive to think that a team or an organization is like a family. As human beings, we are biologically wired to form bonds with other fellow humans. Given that my initial experience in the corporate world was very friendly, when I first stepped into a management role I never felt the classic “boss” attitude in myself, and I always wanted to be very close to my team. We spend most of our waking hours with our teams, we go through highs and lows together, we celebrate wins, and we navigate uncertainty as a unit. So why not treat each other like family? Because at some point it is inevitable that the analogy breaks. The structure of the workplace, and your role as a manager within it, sometimes puts you in a position that is not compatible with the concept of family.
The hard truth is that no matter how friendly the culture is, I am still the person who decides performance ratings, promotions, compensation, and, in some cases, whether someone stays or leaves. These are decisions that I have to make, and even if I handle them with empathy and fairness, they represent an asymmetrical power structure. I never considered myself a person who projects a threatening aura of authoritarianism, and I think I am able to create a decent level of psychological safety. My natural tendency is to foster an open, collaborative environment. I want my team to challenge me, to joke with me, to feel at ease. Nevertheless, it is still hard to be fully at ease with someone who controls your career trajectory, sometimes gives you tough feedback, or escalates your performance slips.
Managers need to be aware of that limitation. They represent the company’s needs first, which at times might be at odds with individual desires. I still remember when I became a manager for the first time and participated in the training sessions. The message was clear that from that moment you are “on the other side”. Even as a newly minted line manager at the bottom of the food chain, the company makes it clear that you are now more tied to its interests.
As a manager, you cannot let closeness cloud your objectivity and fairness. I once delayed giving corrective feedback to someone on my team because … well … I liked the guy, and I unconsciously did not want to hurt the relationship. The result was that the performance issue grew bigger than it should have, and it became a larger problem than necessary. This is probably one of the hardest parts of the job: drawing a line between personal affinity and professional responsibility without being cold or transactional.
Navigating the team vs family dilemma is especially difficult during team offsites or social gatherings. Picture this: the group heads out for dinner, maybe drinks afterward. The vibe is light, the team is laughing and letting loose. You are tempted to give in fully. You helped build this team, it is a great team, and you enjoy these people. However, no matter what you do or how you behave, people know that you have the manager hat on, and you should too. No matter how warm the relationship is, my presence changes the dynamic. This is why at some point I usually exit gently, not because I do not want to be there, but because I know that they need the space to unwind, and they cannot do that if I am around. It is a strange feeling of loneliness: you are both part of the team and apart from it.
Another challenging moment comes during times of change or hardship. Layoffs, reorgs, and budget cuts are part of business life and are traumatic events. If people have been led to believe that they are in a family, these moments feel like betrayal. The more honest framing is this: a team is a group of professionals working toward a shared goal within a contractual setup.
We treat each other with respect and care, and we look out for one another, but we are here because of the work. This framing might sound cold and not very heart-warming, but it is more durable and it is built on clarity. So … I love my team, but no, my team is not a family. We are a unit of high performers, bonded by trust, respect, and shared ambition. And that is ok, and it is the way to build something that lasts.
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We remained friends after we parted ways, and we are still in contact.