The Golden Cages of CEOs

Sometimes you find yourself in a dilemma where it is difficult to be an ordinary human being.

By Mohammed bin Saleh

I was working with a company to reshape its strategy. The company was achieving remarkable growth, the numbers were reassuring, and the board of directors' confidence in the CEO was high. He was the type of leader who instills reassurance in every meeting. Calm, balanced, sharp-minded, and answering the toughest questions as if he carried no worries at all.

After one of the meetings, everyone left. I stayed with him for a few minutes, exchanging conversation. While we were talking about the project, he suddenly stopped, then said a sentence that made me reconsider the concept of leadership as a whole.

"Do you know what the hardest part of this position is?"

He waited a moment before continuing.

"It's that you get tired... and you can't tell anyone that you are tired."

At first, I thought he meant work pressure, but he shook his head and said:

"If I told the employees how I feel, some of them would lose their sense of security."

Then he smiled a brief smile and continued:

"And if I spoke to the board of directors about the extent of my exhaustion, they might think I am no longer the right person for this stage."

Then he fell silent for a few moments, and said quietly:

"I spend my whole day reassuring others... and I can't find anyone I can worry with how I feel."

I left that meeting thinking. I wasn't thinking about that CEO, but rather about the position itself. The higher a person rises within, the fewer people they can be an ordinary human being around.

One is required to appear confident even when anxious, calm even when exhausted, and decisive even when hesitant. Over time, they learn to hide their feelings—not because they want to, but because they feel that others' trust has become part of their responsibility.

A CEO does not fear exhaustion; they fear being seen as exhausted by others. In some positions... silence is no longer an option, but rather becomes part of the job description.

But what shocked me more... was that this was not the only problem. As the years go by, leaving becomes harder. Not because the contract prevents it, or because the door is locked, but because their entire life has begun to shape itself around that position.

Their financial commitments, their standard of living, their social status, people's perception of them, and their expectations of them. Even an alternative opportunity is no longer just a professional decision, but has become a decision that affects their entire life.

And here I understood something I hadn't seen before. Not all prisons have doors. Some grant you a higher salary, a more beautiful office, and greater respect, leaving you the freedom to enter and exit every day. But it quietly robs you of the freedom to be an ordinary human being.

To say, "I am tired." To say, "I cannot." To say, "I need someone to listen to me." And when this prison is complete... you discover that its bars were not made of iron. They were made of gold. That is why I call them The Golden Cages of CEOs.

Despite everything I have written... I am not criticizing these cages. Rather, I believe that many great companies and institutions that changed their markets would not have been born if not for people who accepted to pay this price. Leadership is not just a privilege, but a responsibility, pressure, loneliness, and decisions that no one sees.

But every great path has a price. Every major position carries with it a responsibility that does not appear in the job description. The problem is not in building a golden cage, but in forgetting, over time, that you still hold the key to its door. Success does not become dangerous when it grows, but rather when it turns from a means to build a better life... into a life you cannot escape.

Mohammed bin Saleh

Interested in Management and Finance