Companies are not family Companies are not family

Companies are not family

Good work should make life bigger, not smaller. The best teams know where work ends and the rest of life begins.

“Great companies aren’t fake families—they’re allies of real families.” 

Jason Fried

There’s something fascinating about how companies love to call themselves families. Because no real family has ever had a quarterly business review.

You’ll hear it on day one: “We’re like a family here.”
Which, in corporate language, means: “You’ll be working this weekend, but someone will drop a GIF in Slack so it feels like fun.”

I’ve been running or building businesses for most of my adult life, and I’ve heard every version of it.
The “family” metaphor, the “tribe” thing, one company even called their employees “Metamates,” which sounded like the world’s most corporate dating app.

Now, I get what they’re trying to say. They mean, we care about you.
And that’s good. We should.
But calling it “family” just… misses the mark.

Because family isn’t a metaphor.
Family is what’s waiting for you when you close the laptop.

At work, if you miss a deadline, you get feedback.
At home, if you burn dinner, your kids still love you—they just ask for cereal.
Different stakes entirely.

When Chris and I were running our first company, we used to joke that if it ever started to feel like a family, something had gone horribly wrong.
Families are messy. Families cry. Families argue about what’s for dinner.
Work is where you schedule feelings, drink bad coffee, and over-celebrate bagels.

We never wanted our team to feel like they owed us their lives.
We wanted them to have lives—and to go live them.
We didn’t want people answering emails from vacation or skipping their kid’s game for a status call.
No one’s ever going to look back on life and say, “Man, I wish I’d replied-all more.”

And here’s the thing: when you give people room to be whole humans, they actually work better.
They’re rested. They’re sharper. They’re funnier.
They stop treating work like a competition for martyr of the year.

That’s the irony. The best companies—the ones that actually feel good—don’t pretend to be your family.
They respect the one you already have.

They don’t need to wrap love in a corporate slogan or add it to the employee handbook.
They just live it out quietly—by telling you to go home, by not texting you on Sunday, by remembering that you have a real life full of people who need you more than the spreadsheet does.

So yeah, we were never a “family.”
We were something better: a team that liked each other enough to work hard and care, and smart enough to know where work stopped and life began.

That’s all I ever wanted to build—not a family, not a cult, not a brand that hugs too long—just a place that makes life better, not smaller.

Because family isn’t something you create at work.
It’s the reason you go home.