Quit Being a Cynic at Work. It’s Holding You Back.
There are ways to fight the tendency to see the worst in everyone
4 min
We don’t want to be friends with our co-workers . We don’t want to help out with that project. We don’t trust the CEO…or our boss…or that guy in accounting.
Have we taken our cynicism at work too far?
In some ways, our bad attitude makes sense. Many of us made work our church, only to end up laid off , burned out or underpaid. Now we check out, do less, gossip and snark.
It isn’t getting us anywhere good, according to Jamil Zaki , a Stanford University psychology professor who runs the school’s social neuroscience lab.
“Cynicism, if it were a pill, would really be a poison,” he says.
Zaki has spent years researching sunny concepts such as empathy and compassion. One of his studies, for example, found that giving away money activates a similar part of the brain as eating chocolate. His forthcoming book, “Hope for Cynics,” explores the rise of our darker sides, our belief that other people are selfish, greedy and dishonest.
Betrayed once, we practice what Zaki calls “pre-disappointment,” always assuming others will let us down. The mindset feels productive and cunning, like we’ll be able to protect ourselves. But Zaki says it can actually stunt our careers in the long run, and hurt our mental and physical health.
“By never trusting, cynics never lose,” he writes. “They also never win.”
He assures that you don’t have to become the company cheerleader, or even an optimist, to grow your faith in other people. You do have to take a chance on them, examining your own assumptions and suspending your conviction that you already know how this is going to turn out (not well).
While the approach might initially seem blasphemous to the more negative, sarcastic and skeptical among us—like, say, me—anyone can become less cynical , he says.
You might even find you like it.
How we got here
Once upon a time, Americans were less cynical, Zaki says. A longstanding survey from research organisation NORC at the University of Chicago, which has examined American attitudes since 1972, shows we used to trust each other more. Around the middle of the last century, many hummed along on the rosy glow of plum benefits, robust job security and the knowledge that the chief executive was making, say, 20 times a worker’s pay, instead of 200.
It isn’t that we never complained about work, but Zaki says we repaid our companies’ loyalty with commitment, as part of an unspoken covenant.
Today, that employee-employer pact can feel like a relic of a bygone era. Workers have swapped pensions and equity in their companies for more meagre benefits that put the risk and onus on individuals. Instead of reporting to paternalistic employers, many people now operate under tenuous contracts and gig work.
Some of us work from home in isolation or spend lonely days in the office trapped on back-to-back video calls. There’s less chitchat, less interaction.
“We don’t like people when they’re abstracted,” Zaki says, “but we love people who we actually know.”
Zaki understands why, given all this, we might scoff at the notion that our company is a family, or roll our eyes at the prospect of joining in forced fun at the office happy hour.
Sometimes, I suspect, we also adopt a toughness because we don’t want to look like we’re trying too hard, only to fail or be rejected. Maybe it stems from perfectionism, or anxiety, or insecurity after being exposed to everyone else’s highlight reel on social media for the past 15 years.
Fighting our own worst tendencies
It might seem like all the office snakes are scaling the ladder, but Zaki says studies show cynics’ earnings and leadership potential level off with time. To do good work and attain success, you have to build alliances and share information. Translation: You have to trust someone.
Cynics are prone to poor health, from depression to heart disease, he says, adding that at an organisational level, cynicism can lead to pervasive backstabbing, higher turnover and even corporate corruption.
Cynicism is also a self-fulfilling prophecy, he says. People often mirror how we treat them. Micromanage your team—surveilling them and wresting away their ability to make decisions—and they’ll become the slackers you think they are, doing the bare minimum and buying mouse jigglers to mask time away from their home computers.
“Cynics tell a story full of villains and end up living in it,” he writes.
Resisting cynicism’s pull starts with being open-minded. Examine the data of your life like a scientist would, he says, instead of jumping to conclusions, positive or negative. Think everyone at your job is out for themselves? Ask 10 colleagues for a favour, and see if anyone agrees to help. Convinced every conversation with a co-worker will be painful? Spend a day rating your interactions with them on a scale from 1 to 10.
Challenging your assumptions will leave you pleasantly surprised, Zaki promises, because people often rise to the occasion when we let them. You can start by doling out what you hope to receive. Try engaging in “positive gossip,” speaking highly of others. Take a leap of faith in someone, and do it obviously.
“I trust you,” a manager might say to her direct report. “I really think you can do this.”
Calibrating our hope
Could all this make us too soft? Rejecting cynicism doesn’t mean you can’t hold workers to high standards, Zaki says. Just don’t pit them against each other, with practices like stack rankings, where collaboration is discouraged as workers try to claw above each other on a scoreboard.
Your humour can still be irreverent, even biting, he adds, but jokes should ultimately bring people together or improve something.
“Snark, in the absence of any hope, kind of curdles,” he says.
And don’t be blindly optimistic, he adds. If leadership isn’t giving you any reason to have faith in them, don’t. Find another group to trust—maybe your small team or a union. Band together to provide a buffer to the daily stress of working in your organisation, or enact change by fighting for something better.
“We often underestimate how much influence we have,” he says. “Own that power.”
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This stylish family home combines a classic palette and finishes with a flexible floorplan
Just 55 minutes from Sydney, make this your creative getaway located in the majestic Hawkesbury region.
As Australians develop a taste for craft distilleries — and their products — the local industry is meeting the growing demand with exceptionally good drops
6 min
From the Winter issue of Kanebridge Quarterly magazine, on sale now.
It never used to be this complicated to order a drink. Less than 10 years ago, requesting a whisky, a gin and tonic or even a vodka martini was a fairly straightforward affair with a choice of international brands, from Glenfiddich single malt whisky to Absolut vodka and Bombay Sapphire gin.
Now, the drinking landscape is somewhat more complicated — and that’s good news for locals who like a dram of whisky or a cocktail or two.
The Australian distillery industry has gone through rapid growth in recent years, from 30 distilleries nationally less than 10 years ago to more than 600 now. And that’s despite the overall levels of alcohol consumption falling over time across Australia.
CEO of the Australian Distillers Association, Paul McLeay, has a simple explanation.
“Australians are drinking less, but better — and patterns are changing,” he says. “Cask wine sales are down. They’re drinking less boring beer and more interesting products.”
While the distillery industry was already growing, McLeay points to COVID as the impetus for the increasing appetite for flavourful spirits.
“Tastes changed after COVID,” he says. “That home cocktail culture took off as people realised they could make interesting drinks at home — and post photos of them on Instagram.
“That notion of drinking less but better, the idea of fewer drinks on fewer occasions made it feel more special.”
While the Australian wine industry was valued at $5.7b last year, the distillery market is making headway, coming in at $2.5b. However, McLeay says it differs from the wine market, especially in terms of production profiles. For starters, without the need for vineyards, he says the distilleries are equally split between city and regional areas. This is a key advantage for small craft distilleries looking to connect with their local market.
“If you live in Marrickville (in Sydney), you’ll be proud to be drinking a local gin,” he says. “When someone comes to visit, you want to give them something to take home. Spirits allow you to give them a taste of the locality — you can buy it in a bottle.
“For travellers, if people remember the Hellfire Bluff Gin they had on a night out in Hobart, that’s a positive association with the area as well.”
At the moment, he says there are about 500 gin and vodka distilleries around the country, about 100 whisky producers and 50 making rum. With each product having its own flavour profile influenced by local conditions, from the region’s botanicals to its barley, the quality of its rainwater and even the way it is aged, it is good news for consumers seeking variety. McLeay says most distilleries are making multiple spirits to increase commercial opportunity and get product to market quickly.
“The ‘brown’ spirits have had more time,” he says. “Whisky looks clear like gin and vodka initially but over three or four years of maturation, it turns brown. It only takes about a month to make gin, which is why a bottle of gin is generally less expensive than whisky.”
While it might seem as though the homegrown whisky, gin and vodka market has appeared out of nowhere, credit for the modern distillery industry in Australia largely falls to Bill and Lyn Lark from Tasmania who lobbied their local MP in 1990 to change antiquated federal laws that outlawed distilleries that were smaller than 2,700L.
Following the change, LARK Distillery opened in Tasmania in 1992, capitalising on the state’s reputation for growing high quality barley, its clean water, as well as providing the perfect climate for ageing single malt whisky. Support for the Larks’ efforts also followed from government, as well as mentorship from John Grant from Scottish label Glenfarclas, with their first whisky sent to market in 1998.
Bill Lark says while he knew it was a delicious drop, it wasn’t until the early 2000s that the business kicked up a gear.
“The early 2000s was a period where we and the few other distilleries had to prove their credibility to the market,” he says. “When LARK first won a major award in the World Whisky Awards in 2009 I think it gave the confidence in others to get involved. From day one, inspired by such greats as John Grant from Scotland, I encouraged as many new distillers as possible to become a family of distillers where hopefully we would all be producing a world class product in sufficient numbers for eventually Tasmania and Australia to be recognised as a significant whisky producing region.”
In March this year, LARK was recognised by the World Whiskies Awards in London for crafting Australia’s Best Single Malt and Best Blended Malt.
In the intervening years, Australian distillers far and wide have heeded the Larks’ call to create their own spirits, from small family operations focusing on a single product to larger businesses with their eyes firmly set on the world stage.
Fellow Tasmanians Suzy and Cam Brett from Spring Bay Distillery share a passion for whisky and were inspired by their travels and the Larks’ example to start their own business.
“We remember very clearly being told by Bill Lark to make sure you make bloody good whisky!” says Cam. “I think there has definitely been a change in consumer habits.
“People are more engaged with what they are drinking, how it is made, where it comes from and that has increased the popularity of all spirits.”
Suzy says she first experienced whisky while working in Edinburgh in the 1980s. She’s been a fan ever since.
“Whisky is the king of drinks because of the complexity, the ageing and the romance,” says Suzy. “The time it takes the whisky to mature is influenced by barrel size, bond store, location and climate. The larger the barrel, the longer the maturation.
“Some of our large barrels may take 10 years or more to mature and it is a case of ‘it’s ready when it’s ready’ and won’t be rushed.”
Jake and Tess Eagleton started their Wagga Wagga label, Riverina Gin, in February 2023, after years of discussions, as well as travelling around gin distilleries in the Scottish Highlands, where Jake grew up.
“There are lots of gin distilleries popping up in the Scottish Highlands — I was surprised to see so many,” Jake says. “We started visiting them and often they were on people’s farms and you’d get the chance to meet the maker.”
The couple, who now have three children, were inspired by the notion of a family-run business and, with the help of local winery, Borambola Wines, who offered them a shed, focused on a one-shot distillation method. They have a simple philosophy of making one product really well.
“We try to stand out by not standing out too much — we use fresh organic oranges from the local region so the flavour is citrus forward,” says Jake.
They have also called on connections in their local community, partnering with Paper Pear Gallery in Wagga Wagga to host the Riverina Gin Club events. Expansion will be slow but steady.
“We made sure people knew we were a family-forward business,” says Jake. “We have seen a lot of peaks and troughs with the economy and we have been adaptable because we do a lot of the work ourselves. We have one gin that has been well received.”
Brand director and co-founder of Never Never Distilling Co Sean Baxter has bigger ideas for the business he started with friends George and Tim, with plans to further its expansion into Asia and Europe. Unlike other distilleries that sell via bottle shops as well as online, Never Never is focusing on the hospitality industry to reach bars and hotels. It’s not a surprising strategy given Sean’s former life at Diageo, the peak company for brands such as Johnnie Walker, Tanqueray, Guinness and more.
“I worked as a contractor for Sweet&Chilli as a national brand ambassador for Johnny Walker,” Sean says.
“That gave me access to so many amazing venues and bars and I met a lot of people. I was standing in front of so many people telling incredible brand stories and it sunk in — I wanted to do my own.”
The Adelaide-based business now offers more than a dozen gins and sees the relationships with bartenders and hospitality providers as key to their success.
“We collaborate with international bartenders to promote the brand in Hong Kong and Singapore, and over the past 12 months we have moved into France,” he says. “That’s been a real eye opener, taking our oyster shell gin to the French — it’s an exciting push.”
The ultimate goal is to create a global brand.
“We didn’t build Never Never Distilling to be small.”
This stylish family home combines a classic palette and finishes with a flexible floorplan
Just 55 minutes from Sydney, make this your creative getaway located in the majestic Hawkesbury region.
