- Updated: July 29, 2026
Your team “never takes initiative”—but you redo their work whenever they try.
You say you want advice—but explain why every suggestion won’t work.
You complain that everyone depends on you—while refusing to hand anything over.
These contradictions aren’t always conscious. Sometimes they are psychological games: repetitive patterns that protect you from an uncomfortable truth while creating the very outcome you claim not to want.
🎬 [Cue dramatic voice-over]
Welcome to The Business Games We Play—the show where capable, ambitious leaders unknowingly sabotage themselves while remaining convinced that the real problem is their team, their clients, the market, or their circumstances.
Tonight, our contestants face their toughest challenge yet: getting out of their own way.
Who will recognize the pattern? Who will be eliminated by their own excuses? And who will take home the grand prize—a business that no longer depends on dysfunction to keep running?
[Cut to me—Denise G. Lee—stepping in as the host.]
Oh, and before you judge the contestants too harshly, I should confess: I’ve played some of these games too. You’ll hear a few of my confessions along the way.
But first, what turns an ordinary bad habit into a psychological game—and why do otherwise intelligent leaders keep playing?
🎭 What We'll Unpack
What Makes It a Psychological Game?
Eric Berne and his colleagues described psychological “games” in Games People Play (1964). These are unconscious, repetitive interactions that offer a hidden emotional payoff.
A psychological game is not necessarily deliberate manipulation. Most people don’t realize they are creating the same conflict again and again. They simply know the outcome feels strangely familiar.
On the surface, the disagreement may be about an employee, a client, a business decision, or someone’s refusal to take advice. Underneath it, the person may be protecting a familiar role: the victim, the rescuer, the misunderstood expert, the martyr, or the person who is always right.
Berne’s Transactional Analysis helps us see the basic loop:
- Someone enters a familiar role.
- Other people respond predictably.
- The interaction produces the expected outcome.
- That outcome confirms what the person already believes.
The leader who gives unclear instructions ends up with an “incompetent” team. The advice collector rejects every suggestion and confirms that no one understands the problem. The overgiver creates dependency and then resents everyone for depending on them.
Through the Emotional Pattern Framework™, these games can be understood as adult patterns built from earlier emotional lessons, life scripts, and survival responses. They continue because they provide a short-term payoff—control, innocence, importance, protection, or an excuse to avoid change.
The way out begins when you stop focusing only on what everyone else is doing and recognize the role you keep agreeing to play.
Now, let’s meet the contestants.
Seven Psychological Games Leaders Play at Work
The contestants may behave differently, but every game follows a similar pattern: there is a complaint everyone can hear, a hidden payoff no one is discussing, and a predictable outcome that keeps the game alive.
As you meet each contestant, don’t focus only on the most dramatic version of the behavior. Ask yourself whether you have ever played a smaller version of the same game.
Contestant #1: Bob, the Blame-Shift Leader
The game: If It Weren’t for My Team
🎬 [Cut to Bob in the confessional.]
“My employees just don’t take initiative,” he says with a tired sigh.
[Cut to footage of Bob giving vague instructions, changing his expectations halfway through the project, and ignoring questions from his team.]
When the work falls apart, Bob fires someone—and begins the same cycle with the replacement.
The Hidden Payoff
If Bob can make his employees the problem, he never has to examine his own leadership.
Blame protects him from admitting that his expectations were unclear, his training was inadequate, or he did not provide the support his team needed. He gets to remain the competent leader surrounded by disappointing people.
What the Game Costs
Eventually, Bob’s employees stop taking initiative altogether. They learn that guessing wrong is dangerous, asking questions is pointless, and accepting responsibility means becoming the next target.
The team becomes more hesitant, which Bob then uses as further proof that no one will act unless he forces them.
The game has produced exactly the outcome he complained about.
When a leader withholds expectations and communicates through resentment, correction, or punishment, it can become a form of passive-aggressive leadership.
How Bob Exits the Game
Bob has to replace blame with specific ownership:
- What expectation did I clearly communicate?
- What training or context did I provide?
- Did I invite questions before the deadline?
- What belongs to the employee—and what belongs to me?
Emotionally sober leadership does not mean accepting responsibility for everyone’s performance. It means owning your part before assigning theirs.
🎤 Host Confessional
I know this game. Earlier in my business, I hired people without giving them proper onboarding—and then became frustrated when they couldn’t deliver what I had never clearly explained.
Apparently, “leadership” is not hoping people will magically understand you. Who knew?
Contestant #2: Sarah, the Advice Collector
The game: Why Don’t You—Yes, But
🎬 [Cut to Sarah sitting in a mastermind meeting with a notebook open.]
“I really need help with my marketing,” she says.
Five people offer thoughtful suggestions.
Sarah nods after each one.
“Yes, but that won’t work in my industry.”
“Yes, but my audience is different.”
“Yes, but I tried something like that three years ago.”
[Cut to a montage of Sarah repeating the same conversation in different meetings, wearing different outfits, while her notebook becomes increasingly full.]
The Hidden Payoff
Sarah gets to experience the relief of asking for help without accepting the risk of using it.
As long as every solution has a flaw, she never has to choose one, test it, or discover whether she can tolerate an imperfect result. She can remain the responsible person who is “trying everything” while avoiding the vulnerability of committing to something that might fail.
The game also confirms a familiar belief: no one truly understands her situation.
What the Game Costs
Sarah collects information but never gathers evidence.
Because she rarely tests anything long enough to learn from it, every new decision feels as uncertain as the last. The people trying to help her eventually stop offering thoughtful feedback because they know their suggestions will become material for another objection.
Sarah believes she needs better advice.
What she actually needs is not more advice. It is the willingness to test a reasonable idea and gather evidence. This is the difference between collecting insight and acting on it. You can know exactly what to do and still avoid doing it when action would expose you to uncertainty.
How Sarah Exits the Game
Sarah has to stop asking, “Will this definitely work?” and begin asking:
Is this reasonable enough to test?
What result would make the experiment useful?
How long will I try it before evaluating it?
Am I identifying a genuine obstacle—or protecting myself from discomfort?
The goal is not to follow every piece of advice. It is to stop using discernment as a disguise for chronic avoidance.
🎤 Host Confessional
I have been Sarah.
I collected advice, questioned every recommendation, and convinced myself I was being thoughtful. Sometimes I was. Other times, I was just afraid to choose.
If every reasonable option appears impossible, the problem may not be the quality of the advice. The problem may be that making a decision would end the game.
Contestant #3: Jim, the Gotcha Boss
The game: Now I’ve Got You
🎬 [Cut to Jim handing his new assistant a project with half the necessary information.]
“Use your best judgment,” he says.
The assistant makes a reasonable decision based on what was provided.
[Cut to Jim discovering the mistake and summoning everyone into a meeting.]
“How could you possibly think this was acceptable?”
Jim has found what he was waiting for: proof that he is the only person who can be trusted.
The Hidden Payoff
Jim’s outrage allows him to feel competent, powerful, and morally superior.
If he waits until something goes wrong before revealing what he expected, he never has to risk being clear, collaborative, or accountable for the system he created. Other people’s mistakes become evidence of his intelligence.
The game protects him from a more uncomfortable question:
If I already knew what success required, why didn’t I communicate it before the failure?
What the Game Costs
Jim’s team learns to hide problems rather than raise them early.
Employees stop experimenting, making independent decisions, and sharing unfinished work. They spend more energy trying to avoid humiliation than improving the business.
Jim then complains that no one communicates or takes initiative.
Once again, the game produces the outcome the leader claims to hate.
How Jim Exits the Game
Jim must stop treating preventable mistakes as opportunities to prosecute someone.
Before assigning work, he needs to clarify:
What does a successful result look like?
What information does this person need?
Which decisions can they make independently?
When should they check in?
Did the person violate a clear standard—or an expectation I revealed afterward?
Accountability requires clear expectations before the mistake, not dramatic outrage after it.
🎤 Host Commentary
Catching people doing something wrong can feel like leadership when what you really enjoy is the prosecution.
If your standards only become visible after someone violates them, you have not created accountability. You have created a trap.
Midway Commercial Break: Behind the Scenes With the Host
At this point, the camera cuts to me holding a cup of coffee backstage.
Quick confession: I once played a version of Kick Me—the game where you undercharge, overdeliver, tolerate too much, and then feel wounded when people accept the arrangement you created.
I told myself, “I just want to help people.”
Meanwhile, I was exhausted, resentful, and staring at unpaid invoices.
Generosity was not the problem. The problem was that I was using generosity to avoid the discomfort of setting limits.
Which brings us to Jane.
Contestant #4: Jane, the Overgiving Leader
The game: Kick Me
🎬 [Cut to Jane answering a client message long after business hours.]
“It will only take a minute,” she says.
[Cut to the clock moving from 8:00 p.m. to midnight.]
Jane lowers her price, adds work that was never included in the agreement, extends another payment deadline, and agrees to one more “quick favor.”
Later, she looks at her bank account and whispers:
“People are always taking advantage of me.”
The Hidden Payoff
Overgiving allows Jane to feel generous, needed, and safe from rejection.
If she never says no, charges the full price, or enforces the agreement, she does not have to discover whether someone would stay after hearing a limit. Being indispensable feels less frightening than being respected but potentially disliked.
The hidden agreement becomes:
I will give you more than we discussed, and in return, you will make me feel valuable.
The client may never know that agreement exists.
What the Game Costs
Jane’s resentment grows alongside everyone else’s expectations.
Her best clients receive inconsistent service because her time is consumed by people who ignore boundaries. Her business becomes harder to sustain, and every new request feels like evidence that people are selfish.
To be clear, Jane is not responsible for someone else choosing to behave dishonestly or exploitatively. But she is responsible for examining the access she grants, the agreements she makes, and the limits she repeatedly refuses to enforce.
How Jane Exits the Game
Jane needs boundaries that function as business practices—not private wishes:
Put the scope in writing.
Charge what the work requires.
Establish payment deadlines.
Stop work when payment is late.
Treat additional requests as additional work.
Allow people to be disappointed without immediately rescuing them from the feeling.
The goal is not to become cold or ungenerous. It is to stop offering help that comes with an unspoken invoice for appreciation.
🎤 Host Commentary
If your generosity repeatedly leaves you furious, depleted, and underpaid, something besides generosity is happening.
It may be time to examine why over-delivering is burning you out.
Real giving includes choice. Compulsive giving feels like something terrible will happen if you stop.
Contestant #5: Kevin, the Compulsive Rescuer
The game: I’m Only Trying to Help You
🎬 [Cut to Kevin listening to another leader describe a difficult week.]
Before the person finishes speaking, Kevin begins designing the rescue plan.
“You need to change your offer, fire your assistant, rewrite your website, and start waking up at five.”
The other person quietly says, “I wasn’t asking for advice.”
Kevin leans back, offended.
“Fine. I was only trying to help.”
The Hidden Payoff
Kevin’s advice allows him to feel important, insightful, and necessary.
By focusing on everyone else’s problems, he can avoid his own unfinished work. Rescuing also places him in the superior position: he becomes the person with the answers, while someone else becomes the person who needs fixing.
When they decline his advice, Kevin experiences it as rejection—not because his help was requested, but because his identity as the helper has been threatened.
What the Game Costs
People stop being honest around Kevin.
They know that sharing a frustration will trigger an evaluation, a lecture, or a complete improvement plan they never requested. Instead of feeling supported, they feel managed.
Kevin also becomes resentful because no one seems sufficiently grateful for work he was never asked to perform.
He calls it caring.
The people around him experience it as pressure.
How Kevin Exits the Game
Healthy support requires emotional boundaries: you can care about someone’s problem without taking responsibility for solving it.
Before offering advice, Kevin needs to ask:
Do you want me to listen, help you think, or offer suggestions?
Is this actually my responsibility?
Am I helping because it would serve them—or because I need to feel useful?
Can I respect their decision if they decline my advice?
Emotionally sober support does not require taking over another person’s problem. Sometimes the respectful response is to listen and leave the responsibility where it belongs.
🎤 Host Commentary
Advice without consent can become control wearing a helpful outfit.
If you become angry when someone does not follow your suggestion, you may not have offered a gift. You may have offered an assignment.
Contestant #6: Maria, the Leadership Martyr
The game: Look How Much I Carry
🎬 [Cut to Maria working alone in a dark office while everyone else has gone home.]
“No one understands how much I do around here,” she says.
Her team has offered to help.
Maria refuses because explaining the work would take too long. Hiring support would cost too much. Delegating would mean watching someone do it differently.
[Cut to Maria arriving the next morning and telling everyone how late she worked.]
The Hidden Payoff
Maria’s suffering proves her value.
As long as she is exhausted, overwhelmed, and carrying more than everyone else, no one can question her commitment. Her workload becomes evidence that she is essential.
Martyrdom also protects Maria from having to build systems, delegate authority, or confront the possibility that someone else might perform part of the work without her.
She says she wants relief.
But being irreplaceable feels safer than being supported.
So when overfunctioning becomes your primary way of feeling valuable, leadership can quietly turn into nervous-system-driven burnout.
What the Game Costs
Maria’s team never develops because she will not release meaningful responsibility.
The business remains dependent on her memory, availability, and personal sacrifice. Everyone feels guilty but powerless, while Maria becomes increasingly resentful that no one is carrying work she refuses to hand over.
Her exhaustion is real.
So is her participation in maintaining it.
How Maria Exits the Game
Maria has to stop treating depletion as proof of devotion.
She needs to identify:
What can be eliminated entirely?
What can be documented?
What can be delegated?
What requires her authority but not her constant involvement?
What discomfort arises when someone completes the work differently?
Delegation is not dumping work and hoping for the best. It requires clear instructions, appropriate support, and room for someone else to build competence.
If no one can function without you, you have built dependency—not leadership.
🎤 Host Commentary
Some leaders wear exhaustion like a championship belt.
But there is no trophy for becoming the least replaceable and most resentful person in the building.
Contestant #7: Karen, the Micromanager
The game: Blemish
🎬 [Cut to Karen reviewing a report that helped produce the company’s strongest quarter.]
She scans past the increased revenue, improved client retention, and glowing feedback.
Then she stops.
“There’s an extra space on page six.”
[Dramatic music. Close-up of the extra space.]
Karen calls an emergency meeting.
The Hidden Payoff
Finding flaws gives Karen a sense of control.
If she remains focused on what is wrong, she never has to relax into uncertainty, trust another person’s judgment, or admit that good work can still contain imperfections.
Criticism also protects her position. As long as everyone else’s work requires correction, Karen remains the final authority through which every decision must pass.
The flaw may be real.
Her need to turn every flaw into an emergency is the game.
What the Game Costs
Karen becomes the bottleneck she complains about.
Her employees stop making decisions because they know she will revise everything anyway. Strong performers leave. Remaining employees learn to prioritize Karen’s preferences over the organization’s actual goals.
The team becomes slower and less confident.
Karen interprets their hesitation as proof that she needs even more control.
How Karen Exits the Game
Karen must learn to separate:
A genuine standard from a personal preference
A consequential error from an irritating imperfection
Necessary oversight from anxiety-driven control
Ownership of the outcome from control of every method
Before correcting something, she can ask:
Does this meaningfully affect the result—or does it merely make me uncomfortable?
This is the difference between authority and control: authority establishes the standard; control insists on owning every detail of how people meet it.
Emotionally sober authority sets clear standards and allows other capable adults to meet them. It does not require leaving your fingerprints on every piece of work.
🎤 Host Commentary
Perfectionism can look impressive from a distance.
Up close, it often looks like a room full of competent people waiting for permission to breathe.
Grand Finale: The Winner Steps Out of the Game
As the final round approaches, something unexpected happens:
No one has to be eliminated.
Bob can stop blaming his team and clarify what he actually expects.
Sarah can choose one reasonable idea and test it before collecting five more.
Jim can stop setting traps and communicate the standard before someone fails.
Jane can enforce the agreement without apologizing for having limits.
Kevin can ask whether help is wanted before rushing in to provide it.
Maria can release responsibility without turning her exhaustion into proof of her value.
Karen can allow good work to be good—even when it does not carry her fingerprints.
🏆 So, who wins The Business Games We Play?
The leader who recognizes the pattern, accepts their part in maintaining it, and makes a different move.
[Cut to me standing beside an empty prize table.]
Wait. Where’s the giant trophy?
Where’s the oversized check?
Where’s the confetti cannon someone will be cleaning up for the next three days?
It turns out the grand prize isn’t something you can hold.
It is a business—or team—that no longer depends on confusion, resentment, crisis, blame, or control to keep functioning.
No gimmicks. No manufactured drama. Just clearer agreements, more honest decisions, and people carrying the responsibility that actually belongs to them.
Final Confessional: What Happens When You Recognize Your Game?
🎬 [Cue inspirational music—but not too much.]
If you recognized yourself in one of these contestants, welcome to the club.
We have all repeated patterns that once helped us feel safe, important, innocent, needed, or in control. Recognition is not a reason to shame yourself. It is an opportunity to stop pretending that the same conflict keeps appearing by accident.
The game begins to lose its power when you can ask:
- What complaint do I keep repeating?
- What do I consistently do that helps recreate it?
- What emotional payoff do I receive from the pattern?
- What would I have to risk feeling if I responded differently?
- What is the next clear, responsible move?
Through the Emotional Pattern Framework™, these workplace games can be traced back to earlier emotional lessons, life scripts, and survival responses. The adult pattern may look like micromanaging, rescuing, blaming, overgiving, or avoiding decisions—but underneath it is often an older strategy trying to preserve a familiar sense of safety.
Breaking the pattern does not mean you will never feel the old impulse again.
It means you can recognize the script without automatically performing your assigned role.
Before you leave, identify the contestant who felt most familiar. Don’t try to fix all seven patterns before dinner. Choose one loop, name the hidden payoff, and make one cleaner move the next time the game begins.
That is how you step off the stage.
🔥 Want to understand where your patterns began? Explore the Emotional Pattern Framework™ and trace how earlier experiences can shape the way you lead, decide, and relate.
If you’re ready to untangle these patterns with direct, healing-centered support, learn more about working with me here.
