When Workflows Reveal Culture

Working in a small town has opened my eyes in unexpected ways.

I’ve seen how racism shapes the flow of work — how certain tasks are left undone, slowly building up into a pending tray that grows heavier over time. And when the weight becomes too much, the solution seems simple: hire new people to clear it.

Over time, this evolves into a customer service team, built to manage the growing workflow — not to change the system, but to keep it moving.

And so, we arrive.

We pick up what’s been left behind.

We just… do the work.

I’ve noticed how South Asians approach work differently — we push through, often without question, without pause. But British people carry work differently. They understand their rights, they set clearer boundaries, and they decide how much of the burden is theirs to hold.

It’s made me reflect on culture — on how it silently shapes systems, roles, and expectations without ever being named aloud.

Recently, they hired a supervisor with no experience — while I’ve built years of it.

Not because I didn’t care, but because I’ve seen history repeat itself. These patterns aren’t new; they’ve existed long before me, and they’ll exist long after.

And maybe that’s part of the design.

I’ve started noticing how people eventually become tired of fighting the little battles. They stop challenging the structures around them. They adapt instead — finding quiet ways to cope, learning to survive within systems they no longer believe in.

And then, something else happens.

Businesses begin selling comfort to the masses — small bursts of motivation to keep them going. This is where the idea of the working class takes shape, not just as a label but as a function.

The working people are everything.

They are the engine, the fuel, the pulse of the entire system.

And yet, the system isn’t built for them.

It’s built on them.

I think about this often — how easily we forget that we’re more than our productivity, more than the roles we’ve inherited.

I’ve been craving a deeper connection to my feminine self — to create, to flow, to soften. But it isn’t easy in environments built to dominate that softness, where control is rewarded and fluidity feels misplaced.

So I’ve begun to pause.

To breathe.

To reclaim the parts of myself I’ve been taught to set aside.

Because maybe the real work isn’t about how we fit into these systems that shape us.

Maybe it’s about redefining who we are — on our own terms.

So much of this work sits in a constant state of pending.

Pending tasks.

Pending approvals.

Pending change.

And maybe that’s the quiet truth about these workflows — they don’t just manage tasks; they reveal us.

They show who steps in when things are left undone.

They show who carries, who copes, and who quietly fuels the system.

They show how culture writes itself into the way work gets done — or left behind.

And in seeing that, I’ve realised something deeper:

I don’t have to be pending too.

Because while these systems might shape us,

we still get to choose who we are becoming within them.

Always,

Zahra