There’s a big difference between enjoying your job and pretending to enjoy it because someone told you to.
When companies try to create happiness through planned activities and mandatory fun, it often becomes more about performing enjoyment than actually feeling it.
It’s not that the intention is wrong — leaders genuinely want their teams to feel connected — but the execution often turns into something hollow. Real morale-boosting doesn’t come from organizing karaoke nights or mandating team-building bake-offs.
It’s built slowly, in the spaces where people share real experiences, voice real concerns, and support each other through the everyday grind.
From boardrooms to bizarre games
A couple of years ago, my leadership team decided that what we needed was a dose of “light-hearted competition” to break up the monotony. The Office Olympics was born.
The event was announced with great fanfare: a whole day dedicated to games like Stapler Toss, Chair Relays, and a strange event involving coffee cups and post-it notes.
Each department was assigned a country name — complete with makeshift flags taped to cubicle walls — and participation was strongly encouraged.
From the moment it was announced, there was a ripple of discomfort across the office. For some, the idea of racing down the hallway in an office chair was a harmless bit of silliness.
But for others — especially the introverts, older staff, and anyone dealing with health issues — the games were an anxiety-inducing event.
A coworker of mine, Denise, who had been navigating a knee injury, quietly pulled our manager aside to ask if she could opt out. The response was a cheerful but firm, “Oh, just do what you can! It’s all in good fun!”
She ended up sitting on the sidelines that day, awkwardly clapping along as people wheeled by in office chairs, looking visibly uncomfortable.
Another colleague, Marco, who was notoriously shy and hated being the center of attention, was signed up without his knowledge for the Printer Paper Tower Building event.
When his name was called, he froze, like a deer caught in the headlights. He shuffled up to the front, eyes downcast, his hands twitching nervously.
Marco was the kind of person who chose his words carefully in meetings and hated being put on the spot. There he stood, surrounded by his cheering coworkers, building a paper tower that kept toppling over, his face flushed a deep red.
It was supposed to be funny, but all I could see was his discomfort.
When fun feels like an obligation
By mid-morning, the initial buzz had turned into something strange — a forced cheerfulness that felt exhausting rather than invigorating.
Every few minutes, people were being called up to participate in events that were clearly designed to get everyone “out of their comfort zones.” But getting out of your comfort zone is only fun when you have some say in the matter.
The ones who were naturally outgoing loved it, of course. They turned every event into an impromptu performance, complete with cheers and mock rivalries.
But for everyone else, it felt like being trapped in a bizarre variety show. Every awkward attempt at enthusiasm only served to highlight who fit into the company culture and who didn’t. The social pressure to conform was subtle but constant. You couldn’t just sit back at your desk and do your work without someone breezily asking, “Are you too cool to join us?”
People like Denise and Marco weren’t just excluded from the “fun” — they were put in a position where opting out made them look like they weren’t team players.
After the games ended, Denise mentioned to me in passing that she felt guilty for sitting out. Guilty, as if her physical discomfort wasn’t enough of a reason to not participate in an event where sprinting with a pen on your nose was considered a bonding activity.
For me, the Office Olympics felt like an exercise in performing happiness. I spent the entire day pretending to be interested, nodding along and clapping when expected.
But behind my smile, I kept thinking about how these activities felt like a cruel twist for anyone who struggles with being on display — like we were being asked to dance on cue and call it team spirit.
How forced cheer misses the mark
A few weeks later, we faced a very different challenge: the company was going after a major project with a potential client, a partnership that could redefine our entire year. The competition was fierce, and we were one of several firms being considered.
When the executive team called an emergency meeting to discuss strategy, the stakes were made clear. Winning this project could mean a huge boost in resources and new opportunities for everyone.
But instead of rolling out another forced fun event or gimmicky brainstorming session, our director took a different approach. He outlined the challenges ahead and asked for our input.
People broke into small groups, throwing out ideas on how we could present ourselves and pitch our value. Some focused on technical proposals, others on relationship-building strategies.
It was a flurry of honest, intense discussions — the kind that happens when people are driven by a real sense of purpose, not by a desperate attempt to make work seem fun.
We spent days fine-tuning our approach, sharing feedback, and pushing each other to refine our ideas. When something didn’t work, no one rushed to find blame.
Instead, we pivoted, adjusted, and tried something else. There were no points to tally or prizes to win, just a shared focus on doing our best.
When we finally pitched to the client, the atmosphere in the office was electric. It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t staged. It was the culmination of weeks of authentic effort.
A few weeks later, when we heard back that we’d won the project, we gathered in the break room — not for a party, but to take a collective breath and share in the satisfaction of a job well done. There were no cupcakes, no cheers over a cheaply made trophy.
Just quiet pride and a newfound respect for each other’s contributions.
Real results need real conversations
There’s a fine line between building camaraderie and coercing compliance. It’s not that fun itself is the enemy — far from it. People laugh at work all the time; they chat over coffee, gripe about bad managers, and share in-jokes that only make sense in the context of a shared struggle.
But when “fun” is something mandated from on high, it’s more like another to-do list item. Have you shown enthusiasm today? Have you smiled enough to earn your paycheck?
I’m not saying no one enjoys these activities. Some people genuinely love running down hallways with a giant fake torch or strategizing on how to stack paper reams faster than their coworkers.
But what happens when you don’t? What happens when the idea of competing in something so silly feels like an embarrassment rather than a bonding experience?
You start feeling like the odd one out. You hear the whispers — Why isn’t she participating? Is she always this negative?
It’s not enough to be good at your job; now, you have to prove that you’re enthusiastic about the games, too. You have to show that you’re not just a competent employee, but a cheerful one.
Finding the line between fun and respect
If companies want to boost morale, it doesn’t take much. It’s not about themed days or chair relays. It’s about listening when people say they’re overwhelmed. It’s about treating everyone like adults who can handle real conversations.
Sometimes that means acknowledging hard truths without sugar-coating them, and sometimes it means offering solutions that go beyond pizza parties and office Olympics.
Morale doesn’t get built through stapler tosses or competition prizes. It’s built in the spaces where people feel heard, respected, and valued — not when they’re forced to perform a version of happiness someone else scripted for them.
Real engagement happens when people are treated like adults with real needs and real opinions, not children bribed with cupcakes and pep talks.
Maybe one day companies will realize that real engagement doesn’t require party hats or desk decorations. Until then, I’ll stick to the kind of teamwork that happens when we’re all solving real problems together, not stacking printer paper towers.
Because the best moments at work aren’t the fake, forced ones. They’re the ones where people can show up as themselves and be appreciated for who they are — not who they’re told to be.
