THE WAR ON THE SELF: Performing for the Narcissist. Breaking the Script of Emotional Labour

Brad was flushed with rage. The veins in his forehead pulsated. “I can work for a tyrant, but not a narcissist who needs a performing monkey.”

Brad resigned a week later, found a great job at a competitor’s firm, and the blathering idiot, fumbling beneath the mantle of authority, took early retirement. Brad could have waited, but he said his soul was almost gone. He was drained. We heard those rumours from the 3rd floor. There was this manager who literally expected his troupe of minions to always smile and use sanctified, approved phrasing as per his script. The work was fine, but the job required a mask to suit the manager’s preferences.

That day when Brad ripped off the mask, the dam wall burst. I made him gulp down two cups of tea to steady himself. The indignation could not be contained any longer. Everyone knew the whole smiling routine was fake, but nobody wanted to be the first to stop playing along.

So, if the manager likes smiley, shiny, happy people bringing him coffee, you wear the face of a goon, a clown, a smiley goon making him coffee? Yes, that’s the script. You are dying inside, because he also reprimands you without context, but when it is coffee time, you wear the mask. Even when there is a group-scolding, or pep talk, all are expected to nod, smile, and clap on cue, grunting along with the tone set by the main clown. You follow the rules not to stay calm, but to keep him in a good mood, because if you don’t, you pay for it later.

This type of draining culture even extends to after hours, where you are expected to go for drinks, a bite to eat, or a quick game of bowls with the guys or girls, even though you are dying to get back home and see your loved ones.

Now how does emotional labour differ from stoicism, or even keeping a stiff upper lip?

A “stiff upper lip” is a cultural expression of stoicism: it means keeping calm and composed, especially under pressure or hardship, often by suppressing visible emotion. It is about holding steady and not showing weakness. The idea is you feel the pain but don’t let it show.

Emotional labour, or mask work, boils down to performing according to an arbitrary script imposed by employers, social norms, or power structures: A script you would not choose if you were free to be your authentic self. You manage and display emotions not because they come naturally, but because the situation demands it, often to keep the peace, satisfy customers, or maintain authority.

That performance is not optional. Oh no, dude… it is expected, often enforced, and rarely acknowledged as “work.” The catch? It drains you emotionally and mentally because you are constantly suppressing or faking parts of yourself to fit that imposed role. It is not the coffee or the script that kills you. It is the erosion, the slow decay. One fake emotion at a time, and your own face forgets who you are.

Emotional labour specifically highlights the work involved in managing not only your own feelings but also other people’s emotions. It is about emotional management as part of a job or role, often unpaid and invisible. It is not just performing emotions; it is performing emotions because others require it, and it comes with real psychological and physiological costs.

If you are stuck in it, begin to do three things. It is going to be tough as hell, but it beats wearing the same fracking scripted mask again tomorrow, while your insides are still bleeding:

Stop speaking their language. Start speaking yours. That’s how you claw your way out of the sludge of emotional labour.

1. Keep a private list of every fake thing you do in a day.

2. Pick one fake thing, and stop doing it. See what happens.

3. Start lining up skills or contacts so you can get out.