How Busy Work Sustains Itself
Lisa sees the incoherence before anyone else. The organisation selects against her structurally: vague ownership, plans approved for political reasons, people who insist on precision classified as difficult. When she leaves, years of context leave with her.
Lisa has been a senior engineer at the company for eleven years. She can diagnose a production incident at three in the morning because she has seen every failure mode the system produces. She knows which architecture diagrams are fiction. She knows which processes are performed for compliance rather than followed in practice. She knows, with the specificity that comes from reading error logs and tracing database queries, what the gap between the documented system and the real system actually costs.
She is about to hand in her notice.
The salary is part of it. Internal equity rules have capped her increases while new hires arrive on fresher packages. The compensation framework prices the role, not the context. The performance review compounds the insult. Under “Technical Delivery”: exceeds expectations. Under “Stakeholder Management”: needs improvement. The stakeholder management issue is that she told a programme manager, in a planning meeting, that the proposed integration timeline was impossible because the service it depended on had no API and the team that owned it was mid-reorganisation. The programme manager’s feedback to HR: “Lisa is technically excellent but struggles to communicate constructively in cross-functional settings.” The review recommends a communication course. Nobody recommends redesigning the plan.
The deeper reason she is leaving is simpler: the organisation rewards the people who narrate progress and penalises the people who describe reality. Every time Lisa says “that will not work because the system does not behave that way,” she creates friction for everyone who has already committed to the plan. Her observation is correct, which is exactly what makes it inconvenient. The plan proceeds. The plan fails. The post-mortem names the root cause Lisa identified before the work began. After enough repetitions, she stops arguing and starts interviewing.
Lisa is not unusual. In most software-dependent corporates, a small number of people notice incoherence early because they remain in contact with how the system actually behaves. The organisation selects against them structurally: ownership is vague, plans are approved for political reasons, and the people who insist on precision create friction that the people who speak in roadmaps never do.
Some adapt. They learn to speak in roadmap language, stop describing reality in meetings, and become very successful at protecting narratives they no longer believe. The organisation calls them strong communicators. They call it survival.
When Lisa leaves, the organisation loses something it cannot see on a hiring plan. The knowledge in her head is the accumulated understanding of how the system actually behaves: which integrations are held together by undocumented workarounds, which failure modes appear twice a year, which parts of the architecture are aspirational rather than real. That knowledge compounds with tenure. The replacement who arrives may be talented, but talent is not context, and context takes years.
The organisation responds with more process, more documentation, more coordination. Each addition makes the environment less attractive to the next Lisa. The cycle is self-reinforcing.
At the competitor, Lisa’s knowledge is treated as operating leverage. She helps write the process definition. She helps decide where the boundaries go. When the weekly synthesis flags a discrepancy, she is the person who can tell whether it is a bug, a deliberate workaround, or a promise the organisation has been making without implementing.
The competitor retains Lisa because the structure makes reality valuable instead of embarrassing. The busy-work organisation becomes more likely to lose its Lisas and compound its ignorance. The competitor becomes more likely to keep them and compound the advantage that follows.
See also: All articles · Illusions in the Boardroom · Illusions of Work