Please Don’t Call Me Boss I hate being called “boss.” Maybe it is because I was good at Latin and the word lands badly in my ear. Bos means ox. And somehow, once you hear it, you cannot unhear it. But the problem is not the word itself. The problem is the culture behind it. In Romania, we still carry this deep, persistent, almost hereditary typology of the “Chief.” The man above. The person to whom others must adapt, bend, smile, report, wait, flatter, and occasionally fear. It is not only an organizational reflex. It is cultural sediment. Decades of communism taught people dependence. Not responsibility. Not initiative. Dependence. You waited for approvals. You read faces. You guessed moods. You learned who mattered and who did not. You understood that survival often depended less on competence and more on proximity to someone else’s goodwill. Servility became a skill. And like every skill, it was passed on. This is why the word “boss” still circulates so easily. It is used j...
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