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Early in my career, I made what I thought was a practical, even smart, decision. I joined a new company disguised as a women owned company, but they were really a family owned company because it was close to home. At the time, convenience mattered more than anything else. I was young, eager to build experience, and honestly just grateful to have a job. I told myself that a shorter commute meant better work-life balance, lower stress, and more time to focus on developing my career.
What I didn’t realize then was that convenience can come at a steep price.
Looking back, joining that company was one of the worst career decisions I’ve ever made. At the same time—and this is where things get complicated—it ended up being one of the most educational experiences of my professional life. I learned a tremendous amount, not just about my field, but about workplace dynamics, power, favoritism, and what kind of environments I never want to be part of again.
Most importantly, I learned a lesson that has stayed with me ever since: I will never work for a family-owned business again.
What “Family-Owned” Really Meant
When people hear “family-owned business,” they often imagine something warm and wholesome. Maybe a tight-knit group of people who treat employees like family, value loyalty, and operate with integrity. That may exist somewhere, but that was not my experience.
In this company, “family-owned” meant that nearly every top position was held by someone related by blood or marriage.
The husband was the president of the company.
The wife was the CEO.
The brother-in-law served as the director of engineering.
The niece—arguably the biggest pain of them all—was the accountant.
And that was just the start.
Every major decision-maker shared a last name or showed up to family gatherings together. The result was a workplace where power wasn’t earned through competence or leadership, but inherited through family ties.
For those of us on the outside, it was clear from day one: no matter how hard you worked, how skilled you were, or how much value you brought, you would always be an outsider.
A Workplace Fueled By Drama
Every workplace has some level of conflict. Disagreements happen, personalities clash, and stress can bring out the worst in people. But in this environment, drama wasn’t an occasional inconvenience—it was the operating system.
Family members fought constantly. Arguments spilled out into meetings, hallways, and sometimes directly onto employees who had nothing to do with the conflict. One day, the husband and wife would be at odds over a business decision. The next day, siblings or in-laws were involved. And somehow, the tension always found its way down to the rest of us.
You could feel it in the air. People spoke quietly. Everyone watched what they said. No one ever felt safe expressing an opinion, because you never knew which family member was on the receiving end—or who would take offense and report it upstairs.
Instead of a professional environment, it felt like being trapped inside someone else’s family arguments.
Fear As A Management Style
One of the most damaging aspects of working there was how leadership treated employees.
The president of the company—the husband—ruled through fear. He constantly swore at staff, raised his voice, and created an environment where intimidation was normal. You didn’t go to work wondering what challenges you’d solve that day; you went to work hoping you wouldn’t be the next target of his anger.
Mistakes weren’t learning opportunities. They were excuses for public humiliation. Even asking questions felt risky. Over time, fear became a constant companion, and morale steadily collapsed.
People didn’t innovate. They didn’t take initiative. They didn’t speak up when something was wrong. Everyone was too busy protecting themselves.
And leadership seemed completely unaware—or uninterested—in how toxic that environment had become.
The Niece With The Power
Then there was the niece.
Officially, she was the accountant. In reality, she was something closer to an internal surveillance system. If you upset her, disagreed with her, or simply rubbed her the wrong way, you could expect consequences.
She had a direct line to the CEO. If she didn’t like something you said, how you said it, or even how something looked to her, she would report it. And when that happened, you’d find yourself summoned to the CEO’s office, forced to explain yourself like a child being called into the principal’s office.
There was no due process. No neutral investigation. No opportunity for your side to be fairly considered. The family protected the family—always.
This created a culture of silence. People avoided her. Conversations became guarded. Collaboration suffered. Instead of focusing on doing good work, employees focused on staying invisible.
Professionalism Took A Back Seat
What bothered me most wasn’t just the favoritism—it was the lack of professionalism.
Certain family members simply did not conduct business in a professional manner. Emotional outbursts were common. Decisions were made based on personal feelings rather than logic or data. Policies changed depending on who was involved.
In any healthy organization, accountability flows both ways. Leaders are held to standards just like employees. In this company, accountability stopped at the family line.
If a non-family employee made a mistake, it was documented, discussed, and often punished. If a family member made the same mistake, it was ignored or quietly swept under the rug.
That double standard erodes trust faster than anything else.
The Pay Was Insulting
As bad as the culture was, the compensation made it even worse.
I was earning $16 an hour—with a bachelor’s degree.
At the same time, an intern was making $20 an hour.
Let that sink in.
I wasn’t just underpaid; I was undervalued. Raises were minimal or nonexistent. Promotions were rare unless you were related to someone important. The message was clear: if you weren’t family, you were replaceable.
It didn’t matter how much experience you had or how hard you worked. Your ceiling was already set the moment you walked through the door.
Hiding Behind A Label
One detail that always stuck with me was how the company presented itself publicly.
They didn’t advertise themselves as a family-owned business. Instead, they labeled themselves as a “women-owned business.” Technically, the CEO was a woman, so it wasn’t false—but it was misleading.
That label conveniently hid the reality of how deeply entrenched the family was in every layer of leadership. To outsiders, it looked progressive and professional. On the inside, it was anything but.
Transparency matters. When companies hide their true structure, it’s often a red flag.
What I Gained From the Experience
Despite everything, I won’t pretend the experience was entirely worthless.
I gained a ton of hands-on experience. I learned how to navigate difficult personalities. I developed thick skin. I became better at reading workplace dynamics and recognizing warning signs early.
Most importantly, I learned what I need to thrive in a job—and what I absolutely cannot tolerate.
Sometimes the most valuable lessons come from the worst environments.
Advice To Anyone Job Hunting
If there’s one practical takeaway from all of this, it’s this: do your homework before accepting a job.
Before applying or accepting an offer, check LinkedIn. Look at the leadership team. Pay attention to last names. If you notice that upper management shares the same surname—or several related ones—that’s a strong indicator of a family-owned operation.
That doesn’t automatically mean it’s a bad place to work, but it should prompt deeper questions. Ask about growth opportunities. Ask about decision-making processes. Ask how conflicts are handled.
And if you sense evasiveness or discomfort in their answers, trust your instincts.
Final Thoughts
Working for a family-owned business taught me lessons I’ll never forget—but it also showed me an environment I never want to experience again.
Nepotism, fear-based management, unprofessional behavior, hidden power dynamics, and unfair pay structures are a dangerous combination. For outsiders, the odds are almost always stacked against you.
I’m grateful for the experience, but even more grateful that it’s behind me.
If I could go back and give my younger self advice, it would be simple: convenience is temporary, but a toxic workplace leaves a lasting mark. Choose wisely.
