Olivia: Jackson, I've got a number for you. Five. According to research, a single negative interaction at work has five times the impact on your mood as a positive one. Jackson: Five times? So one bad comment from a coworker basically wipes out an entire day's worth of 'good jobs' and friendly hellos. That's… deeply unfair. Olivia: It's emotional math, and the numbers are brutal. It’s also why today’s topic is so critical. We're diving into a book that confronts this reality head-on with a title you can't ignore: The No Asshole Rule by Robert I. Sutton. Jackson: A Stanford professor writing a book with that title. You have to respect the guts. I heard this all started from a Harvard Business Review article that just blew up, right? Olivia: Exactly. He proposed the idea, expecting HBR to reject the language, but they ran with it. The massive reader response, thousands of emails, showed him he'd struck a universal nerve, which led to the book. It even won a Quill Award for Best Business Book. Jackson: That's incredible. It's like he gave a name to a problem everyone was feeling but nobody was saying out loud, at least not in a professional context. Olivia: He gave it a name, and then he gave it a diagnosis. And Sutton starts by getting incredibly precise about what this problem actually is. It’s not just about someone being a jerk.

Jackson: Okay, I'm curious about this. Because "asshole" feels like a very broad, very personal term. If I don't like someone, I might call them that. How does Sutton turn that into a real, usable rule? Olivia: That's the first brilliant move he makes. He takes it from a subjective insult to an objective, observable pattern of behavior. He proposes two key tests to identify a certified, workplace asshole. Jackson: Two tests. Alright, let's hear them. Olivia: Test one is: After talking to the alleged asshole, does the "target" feel oppressed, humiliated, de-energized, or belittled? In other words, do you feel worse about yourself? Jackson: That makes sense. It’s about the effect on the other person. It’s not just that they’re loud or annoying; they actively diminish you. What’s the second test? Olivia: Test two is the real kicker: Does the alleged asshole aim their venom at people who are less powerful than them? Or do they punch up at the people with more power? Jackson: Oh, I love that. That’s a character test, right there. It’s the classic "kiss-up, kick-down" personality. They’re charming to the CEO but a monster to their assistant or the janitor. That tells you everything you need to know. Olivia: Exactly. Sutton argues that how you treat the powerless is one of the best measures of human character. He has this perfect, painful story from his own life. Early in his career at Stanford, he won a prestigious best-teacher award. He was on cloud nine. Jackson: As he should be! Olivia: Right after the ceremony, a more senior, jealous colleague comes up, gives him a big hug, and whispers in his ear, "Well, Bob, now that you have satisfied the babies here on campus, perhaps you can settle down and do some real work." Jackson: Oof. That is a surgical strike. A poison dart delivered with a smile. It’s public praise and private humiliation all at once. Olivia: And it perfectly illustrates the two tests. Sutton felt instantly deflated, and she targeted him when he was a junior faculty member—less powerful. It’s a masterclass in subtle, destructive behavior. Jackson: But hold on, what about bad days? We've all had moments where we were short-tempered or sent a snippy email. Does that make us all certified assholes? Olivia: That's a crucial distinction Sutton makes. He separates "temporary assholes" from "certified assholes." A temporary asshole is someone who has an uncharacteristic moment of jerkiness—and most of us, if we're honest, have been there. A certified asshole is someone for whom this is a persistent, destructive pattern. Jackson: So it’s the difference between having a moment and being a movement. Olivia: A great way to put it. Sutton is very honest about this. He tells a story on himself about a time he got into a dispute over office space. He wrongly thought a staff member was trying to take an office from his group, and he fired off a nasty, insulting email, copying her boss and her subordinates. Jackson: Oh, that’s a classic rage-email. I think we all have one of those in our drafts folder we were smart enough not to send. Or, in his case, one he actually sent. Olivia: He sent it. And the staff member’s response was simple and devastating. She just told him, "You made me cry." He was mortified, realized he was completely in the wrong, and apologized profusely. In that moment, he was the asshole. But it wasn't his pattern. He learned from it. The certified asshole never learns, or worse, they don't care. Jackson: They don't care. That feels like the core of it. They see their demeaning behavior as a tool, or a right. Olivia: And they have a whole toolkit. Sutton lists what he calls the "Dirty Dozen"—twelve common behaviors. It includes things we’ve talked about, like personal insults, but also more subtle things. Things like "status slaps," which are little put-downs to remind you of your place. Or treating people as if they are invisible. Or sending glares and dirty looks. Jackson: The non-verbal stuff is so powerful. A well-timed eye-roll in a meeting can kill an idea faster than a ten-minute argument. Olivia: Absolutely. And the data he presents is staggering. Studies from the US, the UK, Australia, Denmark—they all point to the same conclusion. Depending on the country and industry, somewhere between 10% and 30% of workers report experiencing persistent hostility or bullying on a weekly basis. This isn't a rare problem. It's an epidemic. Jackson: So we’ve got a clear diagnosis, and we know it's widespread. That brings me back to that five-to-one ratio you mentioned at the start. What is the actual, measurable damage here? It feels like it has to be more than just bad moods and hurt feelings.

Olivia: It is so much more. This is where Sutton introduces the concept of the "Total Cost of Assholes," or TCA. He argues that companies need to calculate this just like any other business expense, because the damage is real and it is massive. Jackson: The TCA. I love that. It sounds like a tax. The Asshole Tax. So what goes into that calculation? Olivia: It’s everything. It’s the time managers spend mediating conflicts. It’s the increased employee turnover—people quitting to escape the toxicity. It’s the legal fees from harassment lawsuits. But the most insidious costs are the ones that are harder to see on a balance sheet. Jackson: Like what? The loss of creativity? Olivia: Exactly. And the loss of honesty. He tells this chilling story from a former researcher who worked at the United States Supreme Court. This person described an environment where a few powerful people were allowed to be abusive, and it created a culture of pure fear. Jackson: At the Supreme Court? You’d think that would be the pinnacle of civility. Olivia: You would. But this researcher said communication devolved into nothing but CYA emails—"covering your ass." Every meeting required a witness. People stopped sharing ideas because they were afraid of being shot down or having their ideas stolen. They used their sick days liberally just to get a break from the stress. The organization became paralyzed by mistrust. Jackson: Wow. So the work itself suffers. People stop solving problems and start focusing all their energy on just protecting themselves. Olivia: And that leads to the most shocking evidence in the whole book, for me. It comes from a study of nursing units by a researcher named Amy Edmondson. She was studying drug-treatment errors, and she found something that made no sense. Jackson: What was it? Olivia: The nursing units with the best leaders and the most supportive coworker relationships were reporting the most medical errors. Jackson: Wait, what? That’s completely backward. The best teams were making the most mistakes? That can't be right. Olivia: It wasn't. The best teams weren't making the most mistakes; they were reporting the most mistakes. They felt psychologically safe enough to say, "I messed up, let's fix it and make sure it doesn't happen again." Jackson: Oh my god. So the units that looked perfect on paper, the ones with low error rates... Olivia: They were the ones consumed by fear. In those units, nurses said things like, "Heads will roll if you make a mistake," or the manager "treats you like a two-year-old." So they hid their errors. In a hospital. Where lives are on the line. That is the Total Cost of Assholes. It’s not just inefficiency; it’s catastrophic failure waiting to happen because people are too scared to tell the truth. Jackson: That is terrifying. It reframes the entire problem. A "no asshole rule" isn't some nice-to-have, feel-good policy. It's a fundamental safety protocol. It's an operational necessity. Olivia: It’s the foundation of a high-performing organization. Fear and innovation cannot coexist. You can have one or the other. You can't have both. Jackson: Okay, so this is all making a terrifying amount of sense. But it also feels a bit hopeless for the person who's listening to this right now, stuck in one of those toxic environments. They can't just walk into their boss's office and say, "We're implementing the No Asshole Rule, effective immediately." So what do you do when you're trapped? When you can't just quit?

Olivia: That's the entire focus of the back half of the book, and it’s incredibly practical. Sutton acknowledges that for many people, leaving isn't an immediate option. You have bills to pay, a family to support, a project you need to finish. So, the first and most powerful strategy is internal. It's about reframing. Jackson: Changing how you think about the situation, even if you can't change the situation itself. Olivia: Precisely. He tells this fantastic story about a Silicon Valley executive named Ruth. She was in a workplace where a group of colleagues would constantly interrupt her, belittle her ideas, and just generally make her life miserable in meetings. She called it "Satan's Cesspool." Jackson: A vivid and accurate-sounding name. Olivia: At first, she fought back, but it just left her exhausted and defeated. Years later, the same dynamic started up again. But this time, she remembered advice she got from a river-rafting guide. The guide said if you fall into the rapids, don't fight the current. You'll just drown. Instead, you lie on your back, put your feet out in front of you to fend off the rocks, and just float. Let the current carry you through the chaos until you reach calm water. Jackson: So she applied that to her meetings? Olivia: Yes. She started visualizing herself floating through this "cesspool." She emotionally detached. When the jerks started their attacks, she would just mentally float, observing their behavior with a kind of detached curiosity instead of absorbing it as a personal blow. It preserved her energy and her sanity. She taught the strategy to a colleague, and it worked for him, too. Jackson: That's a brilliant mental model. You're not a victim being battered; you're a survivor navigating a dangerous environment. It gives you a sense of control, even when you're just... floating. Olivia: It’s about reclaiming your internal agency. Another strategy is to look for "small wins." Find tiny ways to exert control. This could be limiting your exposure—avoiding the office kitchen when you know the jerk is there, or insisting on stand-up meetings because research shows they’re 34% shorter. Jackson: Or the psychological version of a small win. I was struck by the story of the bus driver who taught rookies to think of the three accidents they were allowed per year as "punishments" they could inflict on crazy drivers. Olivia: Yes! The union leader Sue Schurman. She said most drivers never actually did it, but the thought that they could was a crucial psychological safety valve. The delicious idea that you had the power to get revenge was enough to manage the anger from a thousand tiny aggressions every day. Jackson: It's a form of mental rebellion. But that brings up a tricky part of the book—the chapter on the "virtues" of assholes. Sutton talks about people like Steve Jobs, who was notoriously difficult but also undeniably brilliant. Is he saying there's a time and place to be a jerk? That feels like a slippery slope. Olivia: It is a slippery slope, and he's very careful here. He acknowledges that, yes, strategic nastiness can sometimes work. It can intimidate rivals. It can create a sense of urgency. Fear can be a motivator. Jobs was famous for making people feel like they would die before they'd let him down. Jackson: But... at what cost? Olivia: That's exactly Sutton's final point. He says even if you could prove that being an asshole gives you a performance edge—which he argues is rarely true in the long run—is it worth it? Is that how you want to spend your one life? Surrounded by fear and demeaning behavior? His answer is a firm no. He says life is too short. Jackson: So it's a pragmatic argument that ends with a deeply humanistic one. The math doesn't work out, and even if it did, it's a miserable way to live. Olivia: Exactly. The rule is ultimately a philosophy for building a workplace where people can thrive, not just survive.

Jackson: So when you boil it all down, what's the one thing we should take away from this rule? It feels like it's about so much more than just being polite. Olivia: It is. I think the core genius of this book is that it reframes asshole behavior from a personal problem into an organizational disease. It's not about a few "bad apples." It's about a contagion. It spreads, it has a quantifiable cost, and it requires a systemic cure, not just telling people to "be nice." Civility isn't a 'soft' skill; it's a core business metric. Jackson: A business metric. That's the key. It’s not about feelings; it’s about function. A workplace that runs on fear is a dysfunctional workplace, period. Olivia: And maybe the most powerful part is the self-test Sutton includes. It forces you to ask the really hard question: "Have I been the asshole?" He forces you to look at your own behavior, to remember the times you were the one who sent the nasty email or made the cutting remark. Jackson: That's the real challenge. It's so easy to point fingers and identify the jerks around us. It’s much harder to see the jerk in the mirror. We'd love to hear from our listeners on this. Have you ever worked for or with a "certified asshole"? Or maybe, have you ever had a moment where you realized you were the asshole? What did you do? Share your stories with us. We're all in this together. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.