Happiness and kindness, those KPIs that smell like lavender and patchouli

There was a time, not so long ago, when Zézette went to work to… well, work. Yes, work. That old-fashioned thing that involved actually producing tangible stuff, answering emails without animated GIFs, lining up Excel tables like little soldiers, and correcting agreement errors with the precision of a grammar teacher gone corporate. She left at 7 p.m., exhausted but proud, with the feeling she had actually been useful.

But that was before. Before the company converted to the gospel of caring bullshit, the start-up hippie version on Xanax. Before the rise of the Chief Happiness Officers, internal wellness influencers, experts in mandatory mindfulness and “letting go” workshops on a tight budget.

To them, competence is suspicious. It’s elitist, rigid, almost reactionary. The new Grail is circulating emotional capital, the weekly smile rate, and the flow of organizational chakras.

In this new managerial era, the blurrier your speech, the faster your promotion. And while everyone is filling in “nourishing-positive” feedback bubbles, Zézette learns to breathe deeply… just to avoid screaming.

Now, nobody asks her to be competent. That would be too risky. She might accidentally prove she knows how to do her job, and that would disrupt the whole managerial ecosystem. Her agile-senior-people-leader boss might feel useless, or worse, be forced to actually produce something.

No, what’s expected of her now is to radiate the HAPPINESS ATTITUDE. Even on Mondays. Even without coffee. Even after a night of dreaming in Excel spreadsheets.

Happiness, in Zézette’s life, is a bit like the 4th floor coffee machine: everyone uses it, no one knows where it comes from, and when it’s empty… they launch a workshop on “co-creating sustainable solutions in an empowering environment.” With Post-its. And detox juice.

Emotional performance, the new corporate sport

One day, in a moment of weakness, Zézette thought her work was still being evaluated. She handed in a solid report, on time, with no useless acronyms. Big mistake. These days, what’s measured is her observable zen level in a bright open space.

In her company, happiness has become a deliverable. Yes, a real one. With deadlines, indicators, and sometimes even 360° audits. It’s a cell in Excel, a budget line, a talking point to recite during steering committees while PowerPoint crashes.

  • “We’re listening.” → but your mic is off.
  • “We’ll find a solution together.” → you’ll find it alone, but in a “collective” atmosphere.
  • “I feel your discomfort.” → I didn’t read your email, but I took a course on active listening.
  • “You’re free to speak your mind.” → as long as you agree with everyone else and don’t go over two minutes.

Kindness has become an emotional bumper. A sort of HR mousse delicately spread over a very rigid Excel grid. Soft on the outside, stiff inside. Like a vacuum-packed block of tofu.

Happiness lives in the cloud, problems stay in silos

One day, Zézette snapped. Too much work, not enough staff, and endless meetings about the overload of meetings. On edge, she blurted out:

“There’s four of us doing the job of twelve, and that’s not even counting Gérard who’s been ‘semi-retired’ since 2017.”

And without blinking, she got this reply:

“Thank you Zézette, you’ve just catalyzed a systemic reconfiguration dynamic by revealing an unexpected strategic alignment lever between perceived workload and potential for transversal skill growth. Your proactive posture reflects a real capacity to embody our vision of regenerative operational excellence in a high-density agile flow. You are a contributive entity in ascending transition toward conscious and sustainable leadership.”

So Zézette smiled. Because now she understood. She’s no longer working in a company, but in a budget-constrained fairy tale, where fulfillment is confused with colorful indicators. Where raises are replaced by breathing workshops, and real conversations by “non-judgmental speaking spaces” between two gratitude KPIs.

She knows now that the real project of the year isn’t the product, the client, or even performance. No. It’s the perceived happiness level filtered through Canva templates. And never mind if things are cracking underneath, as long as it looks good in the slide deck.

Because deep down… kindness isn’t made for listening. And happiness isn’t meant to make her feel better.

No. The goal is clear: to get her to swallow the mental load, operational loneliness, and disguised pressure… blended into a matcha smoothie with a lime wedge on the rim of the cup.