business

The Culture of Misery, Part 2: When Corporates Turn Suffering Into a System

Last week, we talked about how Laala Companies, Startups, and Government Offices thrive on suffering—how misery is turned into a management strategy, a work ethic, even a virtue. But there’s one more category that deserves attention.

The Indian corporate world.

It’s the place where suffering is polished, packaged, and made to look like career growth. Here, work isn’t about getting things done. It’s about navigating a minefield of office politics, unnecessary hierarchy, and power games.

The Corporate Masochism Manual

In corporates, work is secondary. Survival is primary. The game isn’t about skill, intelligence, or hard work—it’s about playing the politics right.

First rule? Kiss up, kick down. Your relationship with your manager matters far more than your actual performance. Promotions don’t go to the most competent people; they go to the ones who master the art of looking busy while ensuring their boss feels important. Meanwhile, the ones below you? They exist to be blamed when things go wrong. That’s the natural order of things.

Second rule? More managers, fewer doers. Corporates love hierarchy. Layers upon layers of managers, each more disconnected from reality than the one below. Need a decision? It will be discussed, re-discussed, then sent up the chain, only to be sent back down. By the time anything is approved, it’s either outdated or irrelevant. The people who actually do the work are buried under processes created by people who don’t.

Final rule? Too much politics, too little professionalism. Decisions aren’t made on merit. They’re made based on alliances, hidden agendas, and backroom deals. Workplaces become battlefields where people aren’t trying to build something great—they’re just trying to avoid becoming collateral damage.

If you’re not careful, you spend years in the system, learning nothing except how to navigate egos, write long emails that say nothing, and sit through meetings that could have been an email.

Choosing a Different Path: Work Without Suffering

Not every workplace runs on suffering. Some organizations actually reward skill, value employees, and believe that work should be meaningful, not just painful. These companies do a few things differently.

First, they trust their employees. No constant surveillance, no micromanagement—just clear expectations and the freedom to get the job done. They don’t believe productivity comes from fear; it comes from autonomy.

Second, they understand that work ≠ pain. Just because something is hard doesn’t mean it’s valuable. Some of the best innovations in the world happened because someone figured out an easier way to do things. Smart work beats hard work, every time.

Third, they focus on real growth, not guilt. Growth isn’t about taking on more responsibilities for the same pay or sacrificing weekends to “prove” commitment. It’s about upskilling, better pay, career progression—things that actually benefit the employee, not just the company.

The culture of misery isn’t necessary. It’s just a bad habit. One that too many companies refuse to break.

The best workplaces have already moved past it. It’s time more followed.

A Culture of Misery: Why Suffering Is the Norm in Indian Workplaces

Work isn’t just about getting things done anymore. It’s about proving how much you can endure. If you’re not exhausted, you’re not working hard enough. If you’re not overburdened, you’re not committed. If you’re not suffering, you’re not serious.

This mindset infects workplaces across India—whether it’s a family-run business where employees are expected to slog without question, a startup where burnout is repackaged as hustle, or a government office where inefficiency is not a flaw but a way of life. Misery isn’t an accident. It’s the system.

The Laala Business Model: Where Guilt Is a Management Strategy

The traditional Indian business—run by the old-school trader class—operates like a fiefdom. Employees aren’t professionals; they are subjects. The unspoken rule is that work should feel like a struggle. If you leave on time, you must not be working hard enough. If you ask for a raise, you lack gratitude.

There’s no concept of productivity—only presence. It doesn’t matter what you accomplish as long as you’re at your desk from morning to night, looking busy. Mistrust runs so deep that employees are watched, questioned, and kept on tight leashes. CCTV cameras aren’t there for security; they’re there to make sure you’re not “slacking off.”

Growth is a mirage. Promotions don’t exist in any real sense. The only way forward is to take on more work without expecting more pay. And when the inevitable burnout comes, there’s no restructuring—just replacement. The machine keeps running, powered by the next batch of overworked employees.

Startups: The Cult of Burnout

If laala businesses make suffering mandatory, Indian startups make it aspirational. This is where misery is marketed as passion.

The ideal employee is the one who works late, answers emails on weekends, and brags about their 18-hour days. If you’re not drowning in work, you must not believe in the vision. There’s no room for balance, only sacrifice. Work-life balance is a joke—if you mention it, you “don’t get startup culture.”

The chaos isn’t a bug; it’s a feature. No processes, no clarity, no structure—just constant firefighting. Employees spend more time fixing avoidable mistakes than building something meaningful. Founder worship keeps it all in place. The CEO, who hasn’t taken a day off in three years, is the gold standard. Employees are expected to follow suit, even though they don’t own a single share of the company.

Most startups don’t fail because of market competition. They fail because they burn out their own people before they ever figure out a sustainable model.

Government: The Original Misery Factory

If laala businesses exploit workers and startups disguise suffering as ambition, the government institutionalizes it.

The inefficiency isn’t accidental. It’s engineered. A process that could take one step will take five. A form that could be filled online will require multiple visits to an office. A signature that could be given instantly will be delayed, just because it can be.

Officers don’t solve problems—they create them. The system is designed to make people suffer, to exhaust them into compliance. The more time you waste chasing paperwork, the less likely you are to push back. And unlike businesses, where at least there’s some pressure to be profitable, government offices have no such motivation. The machine runs no matter how broken it is.

Why This Culture Persists

Because misery is control.

In family-run businesses, it keeps employees too drained to question anything. In startups, it keeps workers addicted to the illusion of future rewards. In government offices, it keeps citizens at the mercy of bureaucrats who decide how hard or easy their lives will be.

The people at the top benefit. Everyone else is just trying to survive.

Escaping the Misery Trap

Not every workplace runs on suffering. The best ones trust their employees, reward actual productivity, and don’t mistake exhaustion for efficiency.

The culture of misery isn’t some natural law. It’s a choice. A bad one. And it’s time to stop making it.

All Regulation Isn’t Regulation: Why Food Hygiene in India Isn’t Getting Solved Anytime Soon

A few days ago, I had some foreign friends visiting India. First-timers, excited, curious. They had their checklist ready—Taj Mahal, Varanasi, street food. But along with the excitement, there was something else: fear. Not of crime, not of scams, not even of getting lost in the labyrinthine streets of Old Delhi. Their biggest concern? Food poisoning.

“Will we get sick?” they asked.

I didn’t know how to answer. I could have given them the standard advice—stick to bottled water, avoid raw salads, eat where there’s high turnover. But the truth is, even locals get hit. Every Indian I know has had at least one battle with a stomach bug, a mystery fever, or a suspicion of typhoid. It’s 2025, and this shouldn’t still be a concern. And yet, here we are.

More Rules, No Solutions

If you go by the books, food safety in India should be watertight. We have the Food Safety and Standards Authority of India (FSSAI), countless municipal regulations, and even state-specific rules. There are mandatory licenses, inspections, and even digital compliance systems. On paper, we should have the cleanest, safest food in the world.

But step outside, and reality slaps you in the face. Dhabas with water tanks full of algae, restaurants where the same oil has been frying pakoras since last Diwali, chaat stalls with staff that doesnt wash their hands, waiters that serve food while their finger is dipped in the curry. Street food is a gamble, restaurant kitchens are an unknown, and packaged food? Well, let’s not even get into the expired products getting a new sticker and gross violations of hygiene on the factory floor (literally floor because many factory owners refuse to invest in hygienic tables).

This isn’t about lack of regulation. It’s about how regulation actually functions in India. And food safety is just one example.

The Mafia Model of Enforcement

We’ve seen this before. Labour laws, pollution control, real estate norms—India is full of industries drowning in rules but starving for real enforcement. Here’s the typical pattern:

  1. Make more and more rules – Every time there’s a public outcry (a food poisoning scandal, a pollution spike), the response is predictable: “We need stricter regulations, shut down that store that we happened to raid once in 10 years, or pay a fine and carry on business as usual, .” So, new paperwork is introduced. More forms, more approvals, more “processes.”
  2. Ensure no one can fully comply – The rules are so complex, expensive, and unrealistic that following them 100% is almost impossible. A small restaurant that actually adheres to every hygiene standard will go out of business. A factory that genuinely follows pollution norms will not remain competitive.
  3. Turn enforcement into a business – Instead of improving conditions, the system turns into a rent-seeking operation. Inspectors don’t exist to enforce laws; they exist to extract money. If you don’t pay, suddenly, your compliance is “incomplete.” If you do, your violations disappear. It’s not about safety or pollution or workers’ rights—it’s about who pays whom.

And when the entire enforcement system runs like this, nothing actually changes. The cycle repeats: People get sick. A scandal happens. More rules are made. More bribes are paid. No one is actually safe.

We live in a world where lab-grown meat is a reality, where AI is optimizing everything from healthcare to logistics. And yet, an Indian in 2025 still has to worry about typhoid from bad water or food poisoning from street food.

It doesn’t fit. It’s not just embarrassing—it’s absurd. And overpopulation is no excuse, there are overpopulated countries with better Food Safety outcomes across the world.

Foreigners assume we don’t care about hygiene. But we do. The problem isn’t a lack of rules; it’s that the system isn’t designed to fix anything. It’s designed to extract money. That’s why we have five-star hotels with pristine kitchens and roadside eateries where the cooking station is inches from an open drain. The government officials enforcing these laws don’t care about safety—they care about their cut.

So, what’s the fix? It’s not more rules. We need something people can actually follow, without bribes and bureaucracy. Imagine if every restaurant had to display a hygiene score, updated monthly, right at the entrance. No complicated government apps—just a sticker, plain and simple.

Because in the end, if people demand better, businesses will be forced to clean up. Until then, we’ll keep playing food roulette, hoping today isn’t the day we lose.

The Death of the Model & The Rise of Influence

Beauty, Authority, and the Algorithm

Once, beauty had a singular form. A face, a figure, a distant gaze from a billboard. Models weren’t people; they were placeholders for a brand’s fantasy. Now, those placeholders have been replaced—not by better models, but by people who can do more than just look good.

That’s The Death of the Model—a shift where aesthetics alone no longer sell. Influence does.

It’s why fashion weeks now feel like influencer meetups. Why luxury brands no longer bet on a singular face but on dozens of micro-creators who bring in their own niche audiences. Why fitness models, once silent bodies in print ads, are now trainers with YouTube channels.

But as models fade, a new dynamic takes over: The Authority Shift.

From Casting Directors to Algorithms

Before, brands chose their models. Now, algorithms do. The old system was built on selection—casting calls, portfolio reviews, fashion houses deciding who “deserved” visibility.

Now? Your engagement rate decides. Your ability to hold an audience, your knack for storytelling, your relatability. Brands don’t need gatekeepers anymore. They need numbers, and they need people who can convert.

That’s why campaigns aren’t shot in pristine studios anymore but in bedrooms, cafes, and home gyms. The influencer isn’t a blank canvas; they’re the main character. The product is just a supporting actor.

Industries Have Fallen in Line

It’s not just fashion. Influence has rewritten entire industries:

  • Food & Beverage – The best marketing isn’t a Michelin-starred chef in an ad; it’s a home cook going viral on Instagram.
  • Tech & Gadgets – Apple still uses Hollywood faces, but when it’s time to buy, consumers check MKBHD’s YouTube review.
  • Travel & Hospitality – No one trusts glossy brochures. We trust travel vloggers showing us hidden spots on TikTok.
  • Finance & Investing – No one reads bank brochures, but everyone watches that one influencer explaining tax-saving hacks.
  • Luxury & Auto – Even Rolex, even Porsche, even Dior—brands that once thrived on exclusivity—are now collaborating with influencers who make their products aspirational yet “accessible.”

Where This Is Headed

Models were just the beginning. The idea of an “influencer” as a niche category is outdated. Influence is the new qualification—whether you’re selling clothes, software, or ideas.

The next shift? Influence will be so embedded into campaigns that we won’t even see it anymore. AI influencers, hyper-personalized ads, products seamlessly woven into content without feeling like marketing at all.

Models were about perfection. Influence is about trust.

The billboard era is over. The feed has taken over.

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