Let’s be honest about our relationship to the workplace.
Written by Maxx Burman | Illustrations by Érik Guarisco
“Welcome to the family” is one of those phrases that has become almost automatic in business. Companies use it when someone joins, leaders use it when they talk about culture, and teams use it to describe the closeness they have built over time. It sounds warm, generous, and human.
I hate it.
A family, in the truest sense of the word, is supposed to offer a permanence that work cannot. We expect our families to remain our families regardless of what we accomplish, how many times we fail, or how difficult we are to be around.
Companies simply do not operate that way. Jobs exist because there is work to be done, people are hired because they can help do it, and those relationships continue for as long as they make sense for both sides. Employment is conditional by design.
Pretending otherwise does not make that relationship more humane. It only makes the conditions less honest.
The words we use shape what people expect from the relationships they enter. When we call a company a family, we borrow all of the emotional meaning that comes with family and apply it to a relationship that operates by an entirely different set of rules. We imply permanence where there is none, unconditional belonging where there are conditions, and loyalty the company may not always be able to return.
Most of the time, that contradiction stays hidden because nothing is forcing us to confront it. When the company is growing, people are performing well, and everyone is excited about where things are going, the language of family can feel harmless. It can even make the culture feel closer.
The problem appears when circumstances change. Revenue falls, a role becomes unnecessary, someone stops performing, or a new strategy requires different skills. Suddenly the company has to make a decision based on what the business needs, and the relationship reveals itself to be something very different from the one people were encouraged to believe they had.
If someone has spent years hearing that the people around them are family, losing a job can feel like being abandoned by something they believed would always have a place for them. The business decision may be understandable, but the emotional contract feels broken.
Kindness is not pretending a coworker is family. Kindness is being honest about the relationship from the beginning.
A team offers a more accurate way to understand the relationship at work. Everyone enters a team knowing that their place on it is conditional and tied to performance. If a player is not performing well, they may get benched. If the problem continues, they may get cut from the team.
The same is true in the other direction. If the team is not performing well, coaches may be replaced, budgets may get tighter, and great players may leave for another team that gives them a better chance to succeed.
That honesty changes the way people can relate to one another. When everyone understands that their place on the team depends on what the team needs and how well they contribute, conversations about performance do not have to carry the same emotional weight as rejection by a family. Feedback can be about the work, expectations can be about the role, and ambition can be discussed without being mistaken for disloyalty.
That clarity does not make the relationship less meaningful. In many cases, it makes the relationship stronger. Great teams can create enormous trust, loyalty, and camaraderie.
Some of the closest relationships in my life were formed with teammates. We built things together, struggled together, and experienced the kind of highs and lows that come from trying to create something difficult with other people. Many of those relationships still matter to me long after the jobs themselves changed.
Somewhere along the way, we started confusing a good culture with one where everyone is nice to each other all the time. I do not believe that is what makes a great team.
Great teams are demanding. People disagree, challenge each other, give hard feedback, and expect the people around them to perform at a high level. But they also respect each other. They trust that everyone is bringing their best, doing their part, and working toward the same goal.
Winning is fun. There is something deeply satisfying about being surrounded by people who are excellent at what they do and accomplishing things together that none of us could accomplish alone.
But being focused on winning does not mean treating people coldly. Great coaches do not cut players after one or two bad games. They try to understand what is getting in the way, help players improve, and make adjustments that give the team its best chance to succeed. Sometimes that means more training, sometimes it means changing the strategy, and sometimes it means finding someone better suited for a position.
The goal is not to create a workplace where everyone is always comfortable, nor is it to pursue results at the expense of how we treat people. It is to create an environment where talented people are challenged, supported, respected, and surrounded by others who take the work just as seriously as they do.
If you want great players, you have to build a team they want to play for.
We are living through a period of enormous change in the workplace. Industries are being reshaped, priorities are shifting quickly, and companies are restructuring teams faster than many employees can adjust. Layoffs have become common enough that most of us either know someone who has been affected by one or have experienced one ourselves.
Those moments become even harder when people have spent years being told they were family, asked to give more because “we are all in this together,” and surrounded by a culture that celebrated loyalty and belonging. It is no wonder that parting ways can feel like a betrayal.
We can care deeply about one another, build meaningful relationships, and do extraordinary work together without pretending employment is unconditional. Kindness is not telling people what feels good to hear. It is being honest about the relationship they are actually in.
And when we pretend to be a family, we overlook something wonderful about being a team. There is something deeply rewarding about coming together around a shared goal, knowing what is expected of each other, and building enough mutual respect to challenge one another to do our best work. We don't need to pretend we're family to experience that kind of connection.
So the next time someone at work says, “We are a family,” please correct them. We are not a family. We are a team.