“Work Cliques in 2025: A Rant from the Guy Who Brought Hummus to a Crypto Bro Potluck”
Intro (Read This Like I’m Whispering Over a Flat White): Let’s be real: work cliques in 2025 are just glorified group chats with delusions of grandeur. They’re the people who schedule 7 AM “brainstorm sessions” (read: therapy for their LinkedIn anxiety) and use phrases like “synergy” unironically. I’d rather listen to my aunt’s 3-hour PowerPoint about her cat’s gluten intolerance than endure another Slack thread where Karen from HR posts 🚀 emojis to celebrate… checks notes… filing TPS reports.
But here’s the thing: cliques aren’t just annoying—they’re emotional Ponzi schemes. They promise belonging but pay out in side-eyes and exclusion. And in 2025? They’re thriving like houseplants in a tech bro’s “biohacking” den.
Section 1: Why Cliques Make Work Feel Like a Group Project with Your Ex (A Trauma Dump, But Make It Professional)
The Science (Sort Of): Your brain on cliques is like a golden retriever at a fireworks show—panicked, confused, and likely to pee on something. Evolution gave us tribal instincts to survive lions, not Karen’s passive-aggressive “per my last email” volleys.
Real-World Example (Because I’m Still Bitter): Last month, the “#InnovationSquad” (a clique of two UX designers and a guy who owns 14 NFTs) “forgot” to loop me into a project. When I called them out? They gaslit me like a Tinder date who “forgot” they were married. “Oh, we thought you were TOO BUSY!” Sure, Jan. And I “thought” your PowerPoint font was Comic Sans.
Section 2: How to Fight Cliques Without Becoming the Office Sith Lord (Steal These Tactics from Navy SEALs and My Therapist)
Tactic 1: Weaponize Your Weirdness Cliques fear authenticity like vampires fear IKEA sunlight. Lean into your quirks. Show up to the Zoom call with a background of Shrek’s swamp. Bring kombucha to the meeting. Be the person who’s too bizarre to exclude.
Tactic 2: The “Swiss Army Knife” Maneuver Become the office MacGyver. Fix the printer, troubleshoot the VPN, and know which snack machine secretly stocks Takis. Cliques can’t ice you out if you’re the glue holding the WiFi together.
Tactic 3: Start a Misfit Rebellion Recruit the others who’ve been left on read. The data analyst who codes in cat memes. The intern who wears socks with sandals. Together, you’re the Island of Misfit Toys, and guess what? We’re the ones who actually get shit done.
Section 3: Leadership’s Role (Or: How to Fix This If You’re the Boss) Step 1: Acknowledge the Cringe Say this out loud: “Our culture’s become a TikTok dance challenge—all flash, no substance.” Then burn the “We’re a Family” posters. Families don’t PIP you for missing a deadline.
Step 2: Reward Bridge-Builders, Not Bullies Promote the employee who invited both cliques to karaoke night (even if it ended with a HR incident involving “Wonderwall”). Chaotic good > clique-approved.
Step 3: Embrace the “Apocalypse Prep” Mindset In 1347, the Black Death killed cliques (true story—feudal hierarchies collapsed when everyone was busy not dying). Your plague? Radical transparency. Share salaries, kill closed-door meetings, and watch cliques crumble.
Epilogue: You’re Not Crazy, They’re Just Basic Cliques are tap water pretending to be LaCroix—all fizz, no flavor. Your job isn’t to join them. It’s to outlive them.
Remember:
- The “cool kids” peak in middle school. Literally.
- Your worth isn’t measured by Slack reacts.
- Every clique has a Karen. And Karens always get transferred to Fargo.
CALL TO ACTION If you’ve ever survived a work clique, smash that ♻️ button. Or just scream into your Notes app. We see you.
P.S. Follow for more unhinged career takes. Next week: “Quiet Quitting vs. Loudly Crying in the Parking Garage—A Gen Z Field Guide.”