When Darek (our client, a maintenance manager) slammed the door and left overnight because he could no longer stand being ignored, it went strangely quiet. Not only in meetings. In the air. The team – the one he had fought for – gritted their teeth and… stayed. Because of the mortgage, the kids, because there’s no time right now. But it was no longer the same team. Nobody wanted to be promoted into Darek’s place. Ideas stopped coming. Meetings turned into nodding along. Everything seemed to work, just on autopilot. From the outside – silence. Inside – falling apart at the soft parts.
It wasn’t revenge quitting, as in Darek’s case. It was something quieter. Resenteeism.
Not rebellion. Not escape. Staying with resentment. Disappointment wrapped in silence.
It isn’t the same as quiet quitting
Quiet quitting is: “I do it, but not beyond my strength”. Resenteeism is: “I do it, but only because I don’t have the strength to change anything”. You no longer believe. You no longer stick your neck out. You no longer have the strength to be disappointed one more time. You’re there. But not entirely. Everything looks more or less OK. People are present. The KPIs add up. It’s just that… nobody brings life to it any more.
It doesn’t start with a bang
It starts with small things. Someone falls silent and stops joking. Someone gives up on initiative. Someone who would normally fight fiercely agrees to silly ideas. “Let’s do it later” turns into “let’s only do what we have to”. No rows. But no emotion either. Pure stoicism. And worst of all: it spreads. Through the team. Through the mood. Through the culture. No HR indicators, no satisfaction or engagement surveys, no stay interviews pick it up.
And leaders often don’t see it
Silence = calm? No. Silence often means: “I no longer believe it’s worth talking”. No complaints? Maybe because the previous ones were ignored. No departures? Maybe because people have nowhere to go. Or no strength left. The form remains in the team. The substance withdraws.
Why do people stay?
Because it’s safer. Because it’s easier. Because nobody wants to start everything from scratch if they don’t have to. Because there’s a mortgage. Because the perfect offer hasn’t come along yet. It isn’t about laziness. It’s about a state of suspension. Mental. Emotional. You endure. But you don’t live this job.
How do you recognise it?
Don’t look for shouting. Look for long silence, lack of reaction, doing the minimum, reluctance to do anything “extra”. Presence doesn’t mean engagement. A smile on Zoom doesn’t mean someone is with you. Declarations of commitment mean nothing.
What can a leader do?
Don’t motivate. Don’t “call for greater commitment”. Stop. And ask. Genuinely. “I can see something has changed. I don’t want to miss it. Tell me about what’s going on – and what isn’t there any more.” Don’t judge. Don’t console. Just… be there. Become a coach who only listens. Give space. And a choice. Maybe you’ll fix something together. Or maybe someone simply needs to leave – with dignity.
Because the fact that someone doesn’t leave…
…doesn’t mean they’re with us. Ask yourself:
“Who in your team has stayed – but stopped being present a long time ago?”
“How many times have you yourself been at work only in body – with your mind somewhere else?”
Sometimes you can’t keep anyone. But perhaps you can save the relationship. Or at least let someone leave it with respect. Because nothing hurts as much as a company full of people who left long ago. It’s just that… nobody has noticed yet.
