She's a Total Bitch....I Really Like Her

I love the saying:

"Some people think I am a total bitch. Others say I am the nicest person they know. Believe both—they got the version they deserved."

I can safely say that nobody who knows me would describe me as vanilla.

Now, don't get me wrong. Vanilla ice cream is one of the most popular flavours in the world, and what is a sandwich without mayonnaise?

But when it comes to leadership, high-risk work, or environments that demand courage and accountability, you can't fill every chair with people whose primary goal is to blend in.

Some of my closest friends have told me that one of my best qualities is that I'm rarely neutral about anything that matters. If I seem indifferent, it's because I genuinely don't care about the topic. But when I do care, I have opinions and I'm willing to voice them.

Throughout my policing career, I was told many times to "just blend in." Go along. Don't make waves.

I was also told that if I wanted to get ahead, I needed to pick a side and learn how to suck up to the people in power.

I watched plenty of people do exactly that.

The professional suck-up always rubbed me the wrong way. They were often charming, engaging, and incredibly friendly. But over time, I learned that some of them weren't building relationships, they were gathering information and collecting allies. Every conversation was transactional. Every interaction had a purpose.

Not everyone who is friendly is manipulative, of course. But when someone's entire personality seems built around managing impressions and staying close to power, it's worth paying attention.

Then there was the more dangerous type: the gaslighter, the backstabber, the manipulator.

Research on workplace gaslighting describes it as a pattern of minimizing concerns, distorting reality, and creating self-doubt in others. It's often subtle, which is exactly what makes it effective.

These people rarely walk into a room twirling a villain's moustache. Most are smart enough to know that open hostility gets noticed.

Instead, they undermine. They rewrite conversations. They tell different stories to different

people. They create confusion. They quietly shape narratives behind the scenes.

The good news is that if you're paying attention, they eventually trip over their own contradictions.

The bad news?

By the time you notice what's happening, they've often spent months building credibility with the people who matter.

I was never particularly good at quietly tolerating this type of behavior. If I saw someone manipulating people, lying, or poisoning a workplace culture, I challenged it.

Sometimes that worked.

Sometimes it didn't.

If the toxic person had the trust and confidence of senior leadership, speaking up became significantly more difficult. In those situations, documentation mattered. Facts mattered.

Evidence mattered.

Because here's the reality: toxic people usually know exactly who sees through them.

Long before you raise concerns, they've often been laying the groundwork. They've planted doubts about your motives. They've framed you as difficult, emotional, negative, or not a team player.

So when you finally speak up, leadership nods politely and says:

"See? This is exactly what I was told would happen."

And suddenly you're playing defense.

In my experience, this is often where the "bitch" label comes from.

Not because you're wrong.

Not because you're unprofessional.

But because you refused to participate in the game.

You refused to laugh at the bad idea. You refused to tell the boss they were brilliant when they needed honest feedback. You refused to applaud decisions that were clearly heading in the wrong direction.

You became inconvenient.

Organizations love to talk about integrity, courage, and accountability.

Until someone actually demonstrates those things.

Then it gets uncomfortable.

People often ask why toxic leaders continue to rise through organizations.

Part of the answer is simple: many are willing to do things that principled people won't do.

They cultivate influence. They manage perceptions. They eliminate threats. They play politics relentlessly.

And many good people stay silent because they understand the personal cost of speaking up.

The result is predictable.

The story of the manipulator gets established first.

The truth arrives later.

If you're lucky, you'll spend your career working for leaders who want honesty, encourage disagreement, and take action when toxicity starts spreading through the organization.

Those leaders are worth their weight in gold.

But if you don't have those leaders, remember this:

It's okay to be called the bitch.

Wear the badge proudly.

Because sometimes being labeled "difficult" simply means you refused to accept manipulation, dishonesty, or toxic behavior as the price of fitting in.

And if that's the version of you some people got?

They probably earned it.