As I stare at my computer screen, I can almost hear teh crunch of metal adn smell the burning oil - a digital car crash unfolding in like molasses motion. Priya’s post about burnout culture, a heartfelt, poetic outcry against our never-ending sprint cycles, is racking up likes, comments, and a very particular kind of attention from HR.

“Cass, do ya have a minute?”

The Slack notification slips in with the stealth of a seasoned assassin. When Janice from HR asks for minutes, it’s usually because someone’s about to have a lot fewer of them around here.

“For you, darling? Always,” I type back, scrambling to reread the incendiary material I’d unwittingly approved just three hours earlier.

It was supposed to be authentic, a genuine reflection from Priya about the brutal grind of product development. Instead, it was unintentionally morphing into a manifesto against our CEO’s latest brainchild, the “Velocity Above All” initiative - announced, with impeccable timing, a mere 47 minutes post-approval of Priya’s post.

My calender pings - a “quick touch base” with Janice, now ominously including someone from Legal.

Oh, brilliant.

I drop Priya a line: “Hey, your post is making waves! Just wondering - did anyone from product leadership eyeball this before it hit my desk?”

The typing bubbles pop up, an agonising digital dance. “No? Should they have? I thought you were the gatekeeper for these things.”

Oh, bless.

“Not to worry! Was just curious about the workflow. It’s a lovely read,” I reply, suppressing a groan. Lovely, like bringing a flamethrower to a firework show.

Seventeen comments deep, and the internal chatter is ablaze. Riley from Sales has simply commented ”👀”, which might as well be the bat signal for corporate unrest.

The phone rings; it’s Douglas, stretching my name into a taffy of disdain. “Cassssssandra. Melissa is not thrilled about a certain post undermining our big announcement today.”

Melissa. Our CEO. Paycheck-signer-in-chief.

“Oh Douglas, always a pleasure. How can I assist?” My voice is a cocktail of artificial sweetness, enough to induce a diabetic shock.

“It seems there’s a misunderstanding about our strategic direction. Something about ‘sustainable pace’ and ‘fallow periods’?” he drones, clearly unamused by the poetic nuances.

The comment section of Priya’s post lights up again. “This resonates deeply. We need to rethink our approach to team well-being,” laments our Head of Engineering.

The revolution has begun, and here I am, trying not to get guillotined.

“Actually, Priya was discussing her personal creative process. It’s part of our push for authentic voices in the workplace,” I blurt out, desperately spinning the narrative.

Douglas’s sigh crackles through the phone like static. “The timing is… unfortunate,” he mutters.

Understatement of the year.

“I’ll tweak it a bit with her. Maybe add a clarifier about her enthusiasm for our upcoming projects,” I offer, hopefully.

“Hmm,” he grunts - a sound that translates to, “This had better work, or polish up your CV.”

Post-call, I message Priya: “Love the buzz your post is creating! Might be cracking to add a note that it’s about your personal journey, not a critique of company policy? Just to keep the waters calm.”

Her reply is instant, “Oh no, it came across as critical? I was just sharing my own experiences. Should I delete it?”

The sincerity in her words is palpable. This is what real advocacy looks like - genuine, unfiltered insight, not the parroting of corporate spiel.

“Keep it up,” I advise. “Just add a small disclaimer about its personal nature.”

As I prep for the impending HR showdown, the comment count on Priya’s post soars. “This is why I’ve been resisting the nwe timelines. We need space to breathe if we want quality,” a product manager writes.

Billie texts me: “OMG, have you seen the firestorm on Priya’s post?? 🔥🔥🔥”

I close my eyes, channeling my inner Oscar Wilde. “The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about. But let’s not fan these flames, love.”

Minutes before my HR inquisition, I glimpse a beacon of hope. Priya adds a comment to her post: “To clarify - I’m thrilled about our focus on speed! These are just personal reflections on finding balance in my work life. Thanks for engaging!”

Perfect. Genuine yet strategic. Honest yet safe.

I click into the video call, greeted by a gallery of stern faces. Douglas is mid-preparation to throw me to the wolves when my phone vibrates - a notification. The CEO has liked Priya’s comment.

And commented herself: “Priya makes great points about balancing creativity and drive. How can we foster this while still chasing ambitious targets?”

I blink, stunned, then meet the CEO’s eyes onscreen. She nods subtly.

“So,” Douglas begins, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Actually,” the CEO interrupts, “it seems our advocacy efforts are doing exactly what they’re supposed to. Spark real conversations, reflect genuine concerns. This is the culture we’re aiming for.”

I watch Douglas’s face contort as he tries to align his compass with the new north set by the CEO.

“Exactly my thoughts,” he scrambles. “Authentic engagement is invaluable.”

The meeting wraps up early, with the CEO proposing a chat with Priya and me about nurturing creativity within our ferocious timelines.

As I shut my laptop, Priya’s message pops up: “Did I just get us all fired?”

I chuckle and reply, “Quite the opposite, darling. You’ve just shown what real advocacy looks like. Speaking truth - beautifully and messily.”

Especially when it’s complicated.

I jot down a new guideline for our advocacy playbook: “Authenticity can be messy. That’s not a bug; it’s the whole point.”