Things are not always as they seem—and nowhere is that clearer than in the unexpected workplace betrayals that come out of nowhere. The times when we don’t see it coming—when we’re blindsided.

What looks like collaboration can be competition. What sounds like support can be strategy. In workplaces especially, hidden agendas dress themselves up as teamwork while the perpetrators are quietly advancing their own interests.

But are they really surprises?

I’m fascinated by this because it happened to me a time or two in my long business career, from which I am long retired. Once, it revealed a surprising side of someone and another time, it was in keeping with what I knew of them.

Passive aggression thrives in professional settings because it’s deniable. A missed email. A lukewarm introduction. A public compliment followed by a private undermining. Smiles in meetings, knives in calendars. When confronted, there’s always an explanation that sounds reasonable enough to make you feel unreasonable.

But sometimes it’s just pure, full-out aggression.

Sleazy is as sleazy does

I was once blindsided by someone of whom a client once said “every time I have an interaction with them I feel like I need a shower.” Yes, that sleazy. I’d watched this person destroy the careers of others for their own personal agenda, so I shouldn’t have been blindsided by the behavior I experienced once I no longer was useful to them. It’s interesting, and yes, a little galling, to see this person position themselves for more and more power. Sort of like a mini-Trump. Pretty disgusting behavior from a disgusting person and I’m glad they are no longer part of my world in any way.

Along with that came tacit betrayals from a couple people I believed were friends.

My belief was misplaced.

Betrayal by a colleague cuts differently because it violates an unspoken contract. You don’t expect devotion—but you do expect good faith. Instead, loyalty is leveraged, trust is mined for advantage, and alliances shift if they can get an advantage. The damage is often done slowly, deliberately, and without witnesses.

The knife in the back

Such was the case years ago when a revered community member knifed me in the back because my success on certain projects threatened them. Although my wins were fairly earned, they didn’t like that I had an advantage and went behind my back with a story about me made out of whole cloth.

I wasn’t just blindsided, I was shocked! This person was respected and admired. I couldn’t believe they would lie about me to get an advantage.

But that’s what happened. But it gets even more interesting.

When they passed away, they were almost canonized in the community. I observed the many public expressions of grief accompanied by large doses of respect and admiration, musing that the community would be shocked if they knew that this person had told big lies and been completely unethical. Not quite their beloved public image.

Practicalities always win out

But what could I say, really? There was no percentage in revealing the truth. Who would believe it? Well, more than a few would believe me, because I was not known to lie. But neither were they.  In the end it was incumbent upon me to keep my own counsel, with only a few trusted folks knowing the truth. Like my husband and a bestie.

Life is much simpler and happier in retirement. I’m not forced to be in anyone’s company and can decide without a paycheck on the line what people are actually worth my time.

But I do exercise discernment. And am far more emotionally intelligent now.

Hidden agendas of any kind are almost always self-serving. They cloak ambition in civility and call it professionalism. They rely on your reluctance to name what’s happening, because naming it breaks the deal.

Seeing this clearly isn’t bitterness. It’s survival. It’s learning to watch behavior instead of listening to assurances, to notice who benefits, who disappears when accountability appears, and who only shows loyalty when it’s convenient. It’s also learning to not take everything at face value.

Sometimes the hardest truth is this: the betrayal you felt wasn’t subtle at all.

It was simply well-disguised.