OFFICE cliques are seen as the territory of employees — staff huddled in coffee corners or restrooms, swapping inside jokes and trading knowing glances. They’re typically talked about in hushed tones, framed as symbols of exclusivity and office politics. We expect them to form among officers, staff, or between new hires and veterans. But what happens when the cliques aren’t among employees but among the leaders themselves?
I can speak from experience on this. The meetings began as expected — formal discussions, dense presentations, and the usual polite nods and questions. The atmosphere shifted once the last item on the agenda was ticked off. Formality loosened, and suddenly, it felt like an exclusive after-hours club where roasting each other wasn’t just allowed but encouraged. It was practically a tradition.
The same executives who had spent the day analyzing targets and strategy were now swapping good-natured banters and inside jokes. One got teased for his legendary communication skills, another for his unwavering devotion to a particular fast-food chain. But the funniest — and most revealing — jokes were about quirks and appearances: one’s “expanding rooftop,” another’s favorite song-turned-office anthem, or someone’s baby-boy look. Yet, no one took offense. The secret? Confidence. If you own the joke, no one can use it against you.
When leaders from different areas meet, it’s like a traveling fiesta, each bringing something distinct to the table, all waiting to be savored. There’s an almost adventurous energy, like a business trip with a side quest. Once the last slideshow fades, cliques appear — not based on rank but on shared interests. Some head to the malls, hunting for unique grocery items, fashion finds, or local delicacies. Others turned into food critics, hopping from one café to the next or braving the street food market. Then there are the social drinkers, transforming a quiet bar into their private happy hour, and the karaoke fanatics, belting out power ballads à la Kuh. The meeting is the mission; the after-hours bonding is the reward.
These moments of playfulness serve a real purpose. As cliché as it sounds, a team that laughs together collaborates better. It breaks down corporate stiffness and makes communication flow more naturally. Leaders who can poke fun at themselves — whether about their “built-in solar panel,” decades-old experience rivaling a manual, or encyclopedic knowledge of company history — become more relatable. Employees feel more comfortable speaking up.
A thriving workplace culture is all about balance. A team that can joke around while staying professional signals a healthy environment. But, of course, there are limits. The goal is inclusivity — ensuring no one feels like an outsider to the fun.
The best way forward? Spread the energy beyond the executive circles. If meetings can end with lighthearted banter among leaders, why not create spaces where everyone can share in the fun? Leaders set the tone. If the big bosses can laugh about their “ever-expanding intellectual real estate,” their unapologetic interpretative dance moves, or their Post-it note obsession, maybe the rest of us can breathe a little easier, too. After all, a workplace where everyone — regardless of title — can let their guard down and share a laugh isn’t just fun. It’s the kind of culture that doesn't just survive — it thrives.
