Small workplace scenes that no one notices or questions. And yet, that’s where everything shifts.
The government wanted proof of diversity.
The CEO said: “We come from 27 countries.”
The civil servant asked: “But what programs have you implemented?”
That’s when he realized that in this system, cohesion no longer counts — only the checked boxes do.
Thursday morning.
The conference table is too big for the meeting they’re about to have.
On the screen, the ministry logo flickers in the corner: “National Workplace Inclusion and Diversity Program.”
The CEO wears a white shirt and a simple tie. Next to him, the HR manager flips through a folder she’s not reading.
The government representative smiles on screen:
— Thank you for being here. We were impressed by the multicultural composition of your team. I’d like to know what you’re doing to promote diversity.
The CEO tilts his head slightly.
— Well, I think we’re already a good example. We’re forty-three people from twenty-seven countries. Afghanistan, Nicaragua, India, Ukraine, Morocco, Italy… We’ve been working together for years, it just works naturally.
Silence.
The official writes something down.
— Very good, but what programs have you implemented to support this diversity?
The CEO hesitates.
— Programs? I… we just try to hire the best people, and we respect everyone.
The HR manager leans forward:
— You’re right, we don’t have anything official yet, but we’re thinking about it! We already have several ideas under review. For example, encouraging respect during Ramadan by asking employees not to eat in front of fasting colleagues—or even, why not, to try fasting with them.
She straightens up, proud of her phrasing.
The official nods, visibly pleased:
— That’s a wonderful initiative.
The HR manager continues, now on a roll:
— And we’ve also thought about organizing potlucks, you know, those meals where everyone brings a dish from their country. It would create a… culinary exchange space.
The official checks a box.
— Excellent idea! Perhaps also an “Accent Week”? We’ve seen that elsewhere—it’s very popular.
— Oh, very interesting! says the HR manager, taking notes.
The CEO looks at her, then at the frozen screen.
— A potluck?
— Yes, people always like that. It promotes intercultural dialogue.
He takes a slow breath. In his head, he sees his production teams working quietly on sensitive batches of medicine, a mix of accents blending naturally with the hum of machines.
He sees the line supervisor, a Venezuelan joking with a Polish chemist during breaks, and he thinks: in what way exactly do I need to make them cook to prove they get along?
The official speaks again:
— And do you have a formal plan for gender equity and inclusion?
The CEO answers more slowly this time:
— We have engineers, operators, male and female managers. We pay equally. I think that’s already something, isn’t it?
— Of course, she says. But the federal framework requires a documented and measurable plan. Without indicators, we can’t recognize your efforts.
She writes again.
The CEO stares at the white wall behind his screen, then simply asks:
— What if we’ve never had a problem?
— Then it’s time to formalize your success so you don’t lose it, she answers calmly.
The meeting ends. The cameras go dark. Silence returns, almost solid.
The CEO stays seated for a moment, eyes vacant. In the distance, he hears the machines running, laughter in several languages.
He smiles, faintly. He stays there, listening to the silence that no metric can capture—and a thought crosses his mind: when everyone does “the right things,” but no one asks what they’re really for. He realizes some parts of his organization are already there.
He opens a new tab and types: “downloadable diversity plan template.”
The problem isn’t diversity.
It’s the organization that believes an Excel sheet can replace trust—and that a checked box is worth more than a human bond.
Seedz / Silent Guest
Not a coach. Not a therapist.
A clear mirror — to see sharply, before you choose.
