Anger clearly has its proper place at work, which is neither

Host: The office was long past closing. Rows of empty cubicles stretched out like abandoned chessboards, computers dark, papers scattered, the faint hum of the air-conditioning a ghost of daily noise. Through the glass wall, the city shimmered — a web of lights pulsing with unseen lives.

In the conference room, only two remained. Jack, his tie loosened, sat with his sleeves rolled, staring at the glow of a single desk lamp. Across from him, Jeeny perched on the edge of the long mahogany table, her notebook open, her expression both firm and compassionate — the quiet storm before understanding.

Jeeny: “Julian Baggini once said, ‘Anger clearly has its proper place at work, which is neither wholly absent nor ever present. The manager who is an emotional blank is just as hard to work for as the volcanic boss, and both can do great harm by setting an unhelpful example for what kind of emotional expression is expected and accepted.’”

Jack: (half-laughs) “He makes it sound like anger’s just another management tool — something you keep in the drawer next to the stapler.”

Jeeny: “Maybe it is. The difference is knowing when to use it.”

Jack: “You can’t just schedule emotions like meetings. Either you lose control or you suppress it — and either way, someone bleeds.”

Jeeny: “That’s because you think of anger as violence. It’s not. It’s signal — the body’s way of saying, ‘Something matters here.’”

Jack: “And if it matters too much, it burns everything down.”

Jeeny: “Or if it’s buried too deep, it freezes everything solid. Baggini’s right — neither volcano nor void helps anyone grow.”

Host: The clock ticked softly above them. Jack’s reflection trembled faintly in the glass wall, a double image — part leader, part human, trying to reconcile both. The lamplight caught the sweat on his temples, and outside, a passing car’s headlights streaked across their faces like a fleeting truth.

Jack: “You ever had a boss who shouted all the time? My first one did. He said anger was clarity. Said it cut through the fog.”

Jeeny: “And did it?”

Jack: (pauses) “It cut, all right. Just not through the fog — through people.”

Jeeny: “That’s the irony. Rage makes you loud, but it makes your message smaller. You end up teaching fear, not focus.”

Jack: “And the opposite — the ones who never react at all? They scare me more. Like they’ve outsourced their emotions to HR.”

Jeeny: (smiling faintly) “The emotional blank. Baggini’s other extreme. They call it professionalism, but it’s just sterilized humanity. A boss like that turns empathy into liability.”

Jack: “You can’t win, then. If you feel, you’re unstable. If you don’t, you’re inhuman.”

Jeeny: “You can win — by feeling responsibly.”

Host: Jeeny stood, walked slowly to the window, and looked out at the city — its skyline reflecting off the glass like a constellation built from ambition and exhaustion. Her voice softened, but her words carried the gravity of someone who had watched too many people implode under the myth of composure.

Jeeny: “You know what I think? Anger’s not the problem. Denial is. When you pretend to be unshakable, people stop trusting you. They start hiding their own emotions because you’ve shown them that honesty isn’t welcome here.”

Jack: “And when you explode?”

Jeeny: “You teach them that truth is dangerous. Either way, you’re setting the temperature of the room.”

Jack: “So I’m a thermostat now?”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Leadership is climate control for emotions. Too cold, and no one grows. Too hot, and everyone burns out.”

Host: Jack laughed quietly, but his eyes flickered with guilt — the kind that only comes from recognition. He rubbed his hand across his jaw, as if wiping off something invisible.

Jack: “You know what’s funny? Everyone preaches emotional intelligence, but no one tells you how to survive your own emotions. They act like it’s an app you can just download and update.”

Jeeny: “It’s not an app — it’s a mirror. And most people can’t bear to look too long.”

Jack: “Maybe that’s why leaders hide behind data and deliverables. Numbers don’t talk back.”

Jeeny: “But people do — and when they see your anger, they mirror it. It’s contagious. Baggini said something profound: the boss who can’t model balance infects the whole organization with his imbalance.”

Jack: “So if I’m volcanic, they become ashes. And if I’m frozen, they become ghosts.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Either way, you kill the culture you’re trying to lead.”

Host: The room fell silent again. The air conditioner hummed, distant, steady — a cold, indifferent presence. Jack stared down at his hands, noticing the small tremor in them, the residue of weeks spent bottling what couldn’t be bottled.

Jack: “I yelled today. You probably heard.”

Jeeny: “Everyone did.”

Jack: “And I hated it. Not just the yelling — the way it felt good in the moment. Like clarity through destruction.”

Jeeny: “And now?”

Jack: “Now I just feel hollow.”

Jeeny: “That’s the withdrawal. Anger’s addictive — quick relief, deep regret.”

Jack: “You ever get angry?”

Jeeny: “Every day. I just make it work for me.”

Jack: “How?”

Jeeny: “I translate it. Anger’s just energy looking for a better purpose.”

Host: Jeeny walked back toward him, leaning on the table now, the lamplight casting a gold outline around her face. Her tone shifted — less teacher, more friend.

Jeeny: “Do you know what happens when you show controlled anger? When you let it breathe without burning?”

Jack: “People listen?”

Jeeny: “They trust you. Because you’ve shown them it’s safe to be human here. They see that passion doesn’t have to mean destruction.”

Jack: “You make it sound like art.”

Jeeny: “It is. The art of expression without explosion.”

Jack: “And what’s the canvas?”

Jeeny: “Every conversation you’ll have tomorrow.”

Host: The lamp flickered as if exhaling the last of its filament’s strength. Jack stood, buttoned his shirt cuffs again, his face composed — not emotionless, but newly aware.

Jack: “So, no more volcanic eruptions?”

Jeeny: “Maybe a few sparks. Controlled fires can warm a room.”

Jack: “And blanks?”

Jeeny: “Save those for the printer.”

Host: They both laughed, quietly. The sound echoed against the glass — soft, human, defiant against the sterility of the space around them.

Jack: “You know, Baggini was right. The real danger isn’t anger — it’s the example we set for what emotions are allowed to look like.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Leadership isn’t about suppressing emotion. It’s about teaching others how to feel safely.”

Jack: “That’s a tall order.”

Jeeny: “So is building anything worth following.”

Jack: (smiles) “You really believe empathy and discipline can coexist?”

Jeeny: “They have to. One without the other is tyranny or chaos. Together — that’s strength.”

Host: The camera pans back, revealing the empty office stretching beyond them — rows of dark monitors, silent phones, and forgotten papers. But here, at this one table, the light still glows — two figures in quiet dialogue, redefining what it means to lead without losing yourself.

Outside, the rain subsides, and the city exhales.

Host (softly): “Anger, like fire, was never meant to be banished — only tended.”

And as Jack and Jeeny gather their things and walk toward the door,
the reflection in the glass wall shows not bosses or subordinates —
but two human beings learning,
slowly, painfully, beautifully,
to burn without breaking.