I’ve been self-employed for 15 years now. And after that long outside the system, walking into traditional office environments can feel strange.
You start noticing things you wouldn’t have blinked at before.
Subtle signals.
Unspoken rules.
Inherited behaviours that quietly dictate how people are “meant” to interact.
One that always stops me in my tracks is when someone says:
“Oh, I could never talk to them about that, they’re too important.”
Too important for what?
To answer a question?
To share an idea?
To acknowledge a colleague?
There’s something deeply broken in any culture where someone feels lesser – less worthy of time, attention, or engagement, simply because of where they sit on the org chart.
It’s often assistants who feel this most acutely, but it’s not exclusive to them. These power imbalances are still baked into the way many workplaces operate.
We talk a lot about collaboration, inclusion, and flat structures.
But those ideas fall apart the moment people start second-guessing whether they’re allowed to speak to someone based on title alone.
What’s really going on here is the myth that some people matter more than others.
That seniority equals superiority.
That certain roles are there to serve, while others are there to lead.
That’s not how high-functioning, modern teams work.
The best organisations I’ve seen, and I’ve seen a lot, are the ones where power is shared, not hoarded.
Where contribution matters more than ego.
Where assistants are seen not as gatekeepers or background support, but as strategic administrative partners.
Because real collaboration doesn’t need hierarchy to function.
It needs trust.
It needs clarity.
It needs people secure enough to set status aside in service of something better.
And here’s the real cost of unchecked hierarchy.
It’s people sitting in meetings, staying silent on topics they’re expert in—because others in the room seem more “senior.”
It’s holding back ideas because you’re not sure if it’s your place.
It’s not asking for what you need because you’ve been taught to tread carefully.
It’s not wanting to “get above yourself.”
That kind of culture doesn’t build great companies.
It builds fear. And silence.
Real leaders don’t need people to shrink in their presence.
They don’t lead through intimidation or reverence.
They work with their people, not above them.
It’s not a power trip.
It’s a partnership of skillsets aligned to a common goal.
So the next time you think, “I couldn’t ask – they’re too important,” ask yourself:
What kind of system makes that feel true?
Because leadership without accessibility isn’t leadership.
It’s theatre.
And it’s time we stopped mistaking one for the other.
