The Horrible Boss Collection: 17 Archetypes Ranked From "Survivable" to "Soul-Destroying"

PART 1: Ranked #17-9

intro

I've spent 20+ years in HR leadership.

Across industries: Oil & gas. Automotive. Manufacturing. Financial institutions. Government projects. Start-ups. Large corporations.

I've seen hundreds of leaders.
And I've worked FOR some truly horrible bosses.

The kind that make you question if you're the problem.
The kind that change the weather of an entire floor just by walking in.
The kind that disappear when things get hard—usually to a bazaar downstairs.
The kind that lead with charm until charm stops working, then lead with something much colder.

Nobody warns you about these leaders in leadership books.
But every single one of them taught me something about the kind of leader I refuse to become.

Here's the thing:

Everywhere, people tell you what kind of leader you SHOULD be.
Be visionary. Be authentic. Be empowering. Build trust.

But almost no one tells you what you should NOT be.
What actually crushes people.
What looks like leadership in a textbook but feels like torture in real life.

And here's the devastating part:
Many of these horrible bosses probably thought they were doing it right.

The Micromanager thought they were being "detail-oriented."
The Weather Boss thought they were being "passionate."
The My-Way-or-Highway Boss thought they were being "decisive."

They may have followed every tip from every leadership book.
But their actions—their daily behaviors, their patterns, their impact—crushed their team members anyway.

So I documented them.
And I ranked them.

17 archetypes of horrible bosses.
Ranked from "annoying but survivable" to "career-destroying."

A quick note:

These are MY experiences across two decades.
You may have encountered other types of horrible bosses entirely.
Different archetypes. Different patterns. Different scars.

And that's the thing about horrible bosses—if we tried to list them all, it would be endless.

But these 17? These shaped how I lead today.

This is Part 1: Ranked #17 through #9—the ones you can survive, even if they make you want to quit.

Part 2 drops next week with #8 through #1—the soul-crushing, career-destroying ones that leave real scars.

A note on ranking:

I've ranked these based on lasting damage to careers and mental health.

But here's the truth: Your ranking might be different.

Because the "worst" boss depends on: → Your personality (some people can tolerate chaos but not micromanagement)
→ Your season of life (The Urgency Enthusiast hits different when you have young kids)
→ Your career stage (sabotage hurts more when you're trying to break through)
→ What you value most (autonomy vs. recognition vs. psychological safety)

So as you read, ask yourself:
Which one would YOU rank as #1?
And which horrible boss archetype have YOU experienced that's not on this list?

Let me know in the comments—I want to hear your ranking and your stories.

the archetypes: ranked #17-9

#17. the micromanager maestro

TIER 4: Annoying But Manageable

Some bosses lead with vision.
This one led with a very specific shade of blue.

This was early in my career, back when I still believed "attention to detail" was always a virtue.
I was learning the ropes of talent management and mobility—meaningful work that involved employee movements, succession planning, strategic proposals that required real thinking.

But the real work?
The real battle?
It was never about the strategy.

It was about the color blue.

He would block the entire meeting room for a whole week.
Not to discuss the merit of our recommendations.
Not to debate the business case.
But to review slides.

Specifically, to make sure every single bullet point, every heading, every border was the exact shade of blue he had memorized from some mysterious palette that existed only in his mind.

Not any blue.
Not the default blue from the template.
A specific blue.

He would sit in that room with us while we manually changed the color.
Line by line.
Item by item.
Across dozens of slides.

We stayed back late.
We missed dinners.
We rechecked every page like we were diffusing a bomb made of PowerPoint and anxiety.

I remember staring at the screen, my eyes burning, thinking: "Is this what strategic HR looks like?"

Until today, I still don't know what value that blue contributed.
It became a corporate ritual.
A mystery wrapped in a hex code.
A symbol of focus placed everywhere except where it actually mattered.

what this taught me
Micromanagement is insecurity wearing a blazer and holding a color wheel.

a practical tip
Document the hours spent on non-core work. Sometimes data speaks louder than frustration, and it might open conversations about what actually drives value.

a gentle reflection
You will meet leaders whose biggest contribution is teaching you what not to repeat.
Take notes accordingly.
That blue? I never use it.

#16. the overprepared manager

TIER 4: Annoying But Manageable

Some leaders come ready.
This one prepared for apocalyptic scenarios that never arrived.

Every time we had a proposal meeting, he insisted on 30 to 40 backup slides.
Minimum.

Every detail needed its own page.
Every angle needed documentation.
Every possible question—no matter how unlikely or irrelevant—needed a prepared answer with supporting data.

Never mind that all the information already existed in accessible systems.
Never mind that we could pull reports in real-time if needed.
He wanted it in slides.
Hyperlinked.
Cross-referenced.
Organized like we were building a digital archive for future civilizations.

We spent countless hours overproducing decks that buried the main message under layers of "what if someone asks about this extremely unlikely scenario."

And then in the meeting?
We'd overrun.
Every single time.

Because he overshared in his desperate need to appear excessively ready.
He'd go down rabbit holes.
He'd click through links.
He'd explain context that nobody asked for.

By the end, I'd often forgotten why we were even in the room.

What decision were we supposed to make again?

what this taught me
Preparation becomes noise when it loses purpose.
And anxiety dressed as thoroughness still smells like anxiety.

a practical tip
Always begin with: "What decision do we need from this meeting?"
Then build backwards.
Everything else is decoration—or distraction.

a gentle reflection
More slides don't mean more value.
More preparation doesn't mean more clarity.
Sometimes the most prepared thing you can do is know when to stop preparing and trust that you're enough.

#15. the corporate celebrity

TIER 4: Annoying But Manageable

Some leaders serve the work.
This one served the spotlight.

They posted every company event as if they personally orchestrated it.
Every program. Every initiative. Every team activity.

They'd pose with booths at career fairs.
They'd stand in front of banners at engagement events.
They'd document everything like a personal vlog, complete with captions that implied deep involvement, hands-on leadership, strategic thinking.

Their real contribution?

"Okay, you all handle everything.
Just make sure to put me in the VIP seat later.
And tell the photographer which angle is best."

They loved visibility more than responsibility.
Association more than contribution.
The front row more than the groundwork.

Corporate celebrities don't need to actually do the work.
They just need to stand close enough to it when the cameras arrive.

And they were always there when the cameras arrived.
Never before.
Never during.
Only when it was time to smile.

what this taught me
Visibility without contribution is just performance art with a corporate account.

a practical tip
Document ownership and responsibilities clearly in project plans, emails, and meeting minutes. Make it harder for people to photobomb your work and claim credit by proximity.

a gentle reflection
When the spotlight fades—and it always does—the work remains.
Let your impact speak for you.
The people who actually built it, who stayed late, who solved the problems, who cared when no one was watching?
They know.
And that's the only audience that matters.

#14. the credit collector

TIER 4: Annoying But Manageable

Some people lift others.
This one lifted only themselves.

I had a colleague whose team ran a thoughtful weekly initiative—Healthy Food Day.
Every week, staff were given yogurt, fruit, milk.
Small gestures that made people feel cared for.
Consistent. Quiet. Meaningful.

One day, someone else took photos of it and posted on the internal portal:
"This is what employee engagement looks like. 💚"

Their initiative.
Their caption.
Their credit.

The team that actually did the work? Nowhere in the narrative.

Then another time, someone proposed an idea in a meeting.
They called it "absurd."
Said they wanted no part of it.
"I'll leave it to you. I don't want to be involved."

But when the project launched and people gave positive feedback?

Suddenly, in front of senior leadership:
"Yes, this was my idea from the beginning."

Said with a straight face.
No hesitation.
No shame.

what this taught me
Some people chase spotlights, not substance.
They're not interested in the work—only in standing near it when it wins awards.

a practical tip
Track contributions transparently. Email updates. Meeting minutes. Shared documents with visible edit histories. Make credit theft harder to execute quietly.

a gentle reflection
Let them claim the shallow victories if they need to.
Your real accomplishments don't need someone else's applause to exist.
The people who matter—the ones who actually did the work—know the truth.
And that's the only credit that lasts.

#13. the my-way-or-the-highway boss

TIER 3: Damaging to Your Work Life

Some leaders listen.
This one staged discussions.

She would call us in for meetings, ask thoughtful questions, take notes like she genuinely cared about our input.
We'd walk out feeling heard.

Then we'd spend hours—sometimes days—preparing the proposal.
Analyzing options.
Building the business case.
Mapping out pros, cons, risks, implementation plans.

We'd present it, confident we'd done good work.

She'd reject everything.

Not because it was flawed.
Not because we'd missed something critical.
But because her mind was already made up before we even walked into the room.

The first time it happened, I thought we'd done something wrong.
The second time, I thought maybe we weren't explaining it clearly enough.
By the third time, I realized:

The meetings were theatre.
The decision was already cast.
We were just extras performing "consultation" for an audience of one.

She didn't want our ideas.
She wanted our compliance dressed up as collaboration.

what this taught me
Pretend collaboration is worse than no collaboration at all.
At least with autocracy, you know where you stand.

a practical tip
After every "discussion," send an email summarizing her "agreed direction" to prevent shifting expectations later. Make the theatre visible. Paper trails save sanity.

a gentle reflection
You cannot grow in a space where your voice only echoes back to you.
And you shouldn't have to audition for permission to contribute.
Real collaboration doesn't require pretending.

#12. the urgency enthusiast

TIER 3: Damaging to Your Work Life

Some leaders understand true urgency.
This one manufactured it.

He had a pattern.
He'd ask for information today that he needed in one hour.
Data extractions. Analysis. Multiple angles. Full context.

It didn't matter if you were in the middle of something else.
It didn't matter if the information required access to systems or files you didn't have on hand.
It was always urgent.

One weekend, I was at my daughter's year-end school concert.
She'd been practicing for weeks.
I'd been looking forward to it.
The kind of moment every parent treasures—the kind you don't get back.

My phone rang.

It was him.

He needed a file.
Immediately.
A file that was on my laptop. At home.

"I'm at my daughter's concert," I said, hoping—praying—he'd understand.

"I don't care. This is a request from top management."

My heart sank.

I panicked.
Called a friend who could access my files online.
Tried to focus on the stage while my mind was racing somewhere else entirely.
Managed to get the file sent while missing half of what my daughter had worked so hard to perform.

The meeting?
Monday morning.

Not that evening.
Not even Sunday.
Monday morning.

He could have waited.
He could have let me enjoy my daughter's concert and asked me when I got home.
He just didn't want to.

what this taught me
Manufactured urgency is a power move disguised as diligence.
It's not about the business.
It's about testing your compliance and establishing control.

a practical tip
Always ask: "When do you actually need this for the next step?"
If they can't answer clearly with a real deadline, it's probably not urgent—it's just convenient for them.

a gentle reflection
Your child's moments are yours to protect.
If a leader can't respect that boundary, they don't deserve your best work anyway.
And you don't owe them your weekends, your family time, or your peace.
Not for manufactured urgency.
Not ever.

#11. the slowpoke boss (the sloth approver)

TIER 3: Damaging to Your Work Life

Some leaders are slow because they're thorough.
This one was slow because she simply didn't care.

It happened when I was still a junior employee.
Fresh. Hardworking. Obedient.
And very much living month to month.

After a business trip, I submitted my claims immediately.

Anyone who's travelled for work knows how it feels:
You use your own money first.
You wait for reimbursement later.
And you hope—you pray—your boss approves quickly because you really, really need it.

A week passed.
No approval.

I followed up.
And followed up again.
And again.

Nothing.

I even printed everything neatly—receipts, forms, summaries—and placed it on her tray to make it effortless for her to review.

It stayed there like decoration.

Another week passed.
By now, almost a month had gone by.

I was getting desperate.
Bills were due.
I needed that money.

I told her gently (and yes, I lied a little):
"I'm afraid claims submitted after 30 days may not be accepted."

Still nothing.

Finally, tired and embarrassed, I went to my manager's manager.
I explained the situation softly, carefully, trying not to sound like I was complaining.

He just nodded.
"Okay, reroute it to me."

So I did.

He approved it immediately.

The next day, my boss finally noticed the claim had disappeared from her dashboard.

She looked at me and asked:
"Did the claim vanish after 30 days? Please submit again."

I looked at her and said:
"It's okay. I think... I won't claim anymore."

Another lie.
Because at that point, my dignity felt more expensive than the money.

what this taught me
A slow leader is not harmless.
A delayed approval can become a delayed paycheck, a delayed bill, a delayed meal.
When leaders forget the human impact of their inaction, they weaponize silence without intending to.

a practical tip
Push for systems with time-bound approvals and escalation tiers. Escalation workflows exist because someone, somewhere, had a boss who treated approvals like optional chores.

a gentle reflection
Not all harm comes loudly.
Some of it arrives in the form of leaders who don't move.
And sometimes, you learn the hard way that your survival depends on finding someone else who will.

#10. the ghost boss

TIER 3: Damaging to Your Work Life

Some bosses are absent because they're overwhelmed.
This one was absent because she believed we made her unnecessary.

"You all can handle," she'd say, waving us off with a smile.
"I trust you."

And we could handle it—that wasn't the problem.
The problem was handling her meetings, her questions, her responsibilities, her accountability while she just... disappeared.

One day, a business leader summoned her.
Specifically her.
He was furious about something our Centre of Excellence had recommended, and he wanted answers only she could give.

She was nowhere to be found.

So my colleague and I had to step in.
We walked into that room unprepared, without the authority to make decisions, without the context we needed.

We got interrogated.
We got nagged.
"Where is she?" he kept demanding.

We had no good answer.

When we finally made it back to our desks—exhausted, rattled, still carrying the weight of that meeting and the anger that wasn't even meant for us—we found her.

There she was.

By her cubicle.
Chatting with another manager.
Laughing.
Showing off items she'd just bought from the bazaar downstairs.

Everything was fine in her world.
We were the ones holding the storm she'd created by not showing up.

what this taught me
Empowerment without accountability isn't leadership.
It's abandonment with better PR.

a practical tip
Clarify—in writing—what decisions you truly own versus what requires actual leadership presence. Protect yourself from inheriting responsibilities that were never meant to be yours.

a gentle reflection
Sometimes you step up because you're capable.
Sometimes you step up because someone else stepped away and left the door wide open.
Learn to know the difference.
And learn when to close that door.

#9. the gossip boss

TIER 3: Damaging to Your Work Life

Some leaders build trust through work.
This one built narratives through impressions.

I've always been a quiet worker.
I don't need the spotlight.
I deliver with pace.
I make complicated tasks look simple.
I just do the work.

One day, my manager came to me after a career-pathing committee meeting.

"They feel you're not visible enough," they said carefully.
"You don't look like you... belong."

I was confused.
"What do you mean?"

They hesitated.

The reasons?

Because I dressed modestly.
Because I carried a backpack to work instead of a handbag.
Because I hadn't emceed any events or led townhalls.

It had nothing to do with my deliverables.
Nothing to do with my results.
Nothing to do with my ability to do the job.

Everything to do with how I appeared in their gossip circles.

I didn't fit the image.
I wasn't loud enough.
I wasn't visible in the ways they valued.

So despite my performance, despite the work I'd delivered, despite the complexity I'd managed—I was labeled as someone who "didn't belong."

what this taught me
In some organizations, gossip shapes narratives more than competence ever will.

a practical tip
Create visibility through documented impact and relationships built on work, not performance. Let your results speak. Build alliances with people who value substance. And know when an environment will never see you clearly no matter what you do.

a gentle reflection
Your worth is not tied to how loudly you exist.
Some of the best leaders are the ones nobody saw coming.
And if they can't see your value because of a backpack, that's not your limitation—it's theirs.

what's next

Those are the first 9 archetypes: Ranked #17 through #9.

The annoying ones.
The frustrating ones.
The ones that make work harder than it needs to be.

But they're survivable.

You can document your way around The Micromanager.
You can set boundaries with The Urgency Enthusiast.
You can escalate around The Slowpoke Boss.
You can prove your value despite The Gossip Boss.

Part 2 is different.

Part 2 covers #8 through #1—the bosses who don't just make work difficult.
They make you question your sanity.
They destroy your career.
They leave scars that take years to heal.

Including:

• The Amnesia Boss who makes you question if you've lost your memory

• The Passive-Aggressive Boss who punishes you for trusting their words

• The Charming Manipulator who weaponizes trust

• The Emotionally-Blind Leader who mocks mental health

• And #1: The Insecure Saboteur who cost me an entire year of career progression with one lie told in a room I wasn't invited to

Part 2 drops next week.

And it ends with the most important section:
"The Leader I Choose To Be"—because we can't always choose our bosses, but we can choose who we become.

But before you go:

These 17 archetypes are the ones I experienced personally.
But I know they're not the only ones.

Maybe you've worked for:

• The Brilliant Bully (genius at the work, terrible to people)

• The Absent-Minded Professor (smart but completely disorganized)

• The Political Operator (cares more about optics than outcomes)

• The Martyr Manager (works 80 hours and expects you to as well)

• The Oscar Winner Boss (performs concern and care beautifully for the audience, but the credits roll and you're still holding all the problems)

• The Backstabber Boss (smiles to your face, undermines you behind closed doors)

The varieties are endless.

So I want to hear from you:
What horrible boss archetype did I miss?
Which one shaped YOUR leadership journey?

Drop it in the comments. Let's build the full map together.

For now:

Which archetype in Part 1 hit closest to home?
Would you rank them differently?
Which one would YOU move higher or lower?

Let's talk about it. 👇

note:

Some of the stories in this collection have been blended.
Some genders swapped.
Some details softened.
Some timelines adjusted.

If a story reminds you of someone from your past, that's just your memory recognizing patterns.

These archetypes exist everywhere.
In every industry.
In every country.
At every level.

That's not your imagination.
That's the problem.

And also the point.