The outing facilitator distributed cards and asked us to write the colleague we found most difficult to work with. He called it an honesty game, useful for improving cooperation. We sat in a hotel room after waiting longer for lunch than for the bus. The director smiled, convinced a little openness would bring us closer. I stared at my blank card, thinking how tomorrow we would all sit in the same office without the facilitator to collect the remains of his game.
Beside me sat Mirna, a quiet colleague who often requested written confirmation of agreements. Some disliked it. It helped me, but I had repeatedly stayed silent when people called her difficult. As others wrote, I saw her fingers tighten around the pen. She did not need to read names to know her assigned role. The facilitator explained that cards were not anonymous because courageous teams stood behind their views.
I returned a blank card and said I would not participate. The director asked what frightened me. I replied that I was not afraid to state concerns but would not turn them into a vote about a person. The facilitator tried softening matters by saying it was all well intentioned. I asked whether we would also publicly select the manager who changed agreements most frequently. The laughter in the room was no longer entirely relaxed.
I did not merely want to transfer humiliation to someone else. I put down my pen and suggested discussing concrete work: missed deadlines, unanswered messages, assignments arriving at the end of a shift. It immediately became less entertaining. The director said serious topics belonged at another time. Mirna spoke for the first time, asking why time had already been found for the serious consequences of this game.
The cards were not read. The facilitator moved to harmless paper tower building, and the director avoided me for the rest of the day. I was not as proud as others later expected. I knew how often I had said nothing while Mirna requested clarity alone. On the bus I admitted it. She said she knew. She did not comfort me by saying everything was fine, and I was glad no longer to take away her right to anger.
On Monday I sent the first assignment with a clear deadline and confirmation of our agreement. Nobody applauded. Mirna replied briefly with a useful question. For some time the director said I could not take a joke. I did not argue about my sense of humor. When a new agreement remained unclear, I asked the question Mirna had previously asked alone. It attracted less attention than the outing and was much harder to continue every day.