Friends at Work Don’t Mean Shit in Crisis

When you spend enough time in the corporate world, you start to see patterns. Different offices, different industries, different job titles, but somehow, the same characters show up. Everyone starts as your friend. They smile, they talk about how much they appreciate your leadership, your support, your energy. But when the storm hits; when pressure shows up, deadlines tighten, responsibilities grow heavier, that’s when the masks start slipping.

I've been through a lot of workplaces. I've led teams, joined existing cultures, built new ones, and cleaned up broken ones. I’ve been in the room when the lights were bright and the mood was easy. That’s when everyone is friendly. That’s when everyone’s checking in on you, pretending to care, calling it family, calling it team. But it’s not the bright times that matter. It’s when the campaign fails, when the pitch flops, when the politics kick in, when decisions have to be made and someone has to take the fall. That’s when you learn who's real.

The moment things get serious, people change. Friends turn silent. Allies disappear. The people who laughed with you yesterday suddenly step back, speak carefully, and align themselves elsewhere. It’s not dramatic. It’s subtle. But it’s always there. Some people you thought were close will throw you under the bus without blinking. Others just let it happen. And then there’s the rare few who stand up, even when it costs them something. That’s the moment you see their truth.

I’ve had complaints thrown at me from day one. I probably still do. People don't always say it to your face, especially when you’re the boss. They nod, they agree, and then they talk behind closed doors. I used to take it personally. Now, I take it as data. Some people just won’t like you. Some people will only support you when it benefits them. And some, the rare ones, will show up when you’re on the line, not because it helps them, but because it’s right.

Work friendships are fragile. Most are based on proximity, on convenience, on shared targets and shared coffee breaks. But when it all gets ugly; when the stakes are high and things start to break, that’s when the real ones stand up. I’ve learned to stop looking for loyalty in the smiles and to start watching behavior when it hurts. That’s the test.

Real is rare. And when you find it, even if it’s just one or two people, hold onto it. Because in the noise of fake praise, office politics, and shifting alliances, those people are your shelter. Everyone’s a friend until it costs them something. Everyone’s supportive until the fire starts. But when the war is on, the real ones don’t flinch. They stand next to you. That’s the only friendship that counts.