By James, Consultant in the Arena
It was 2:15 a.m. on a Saturday night, and I was slouched on my couch with my laptop closed, mind racing from another brutal week of transformation consulting. Three weeks into leading a global change initiative for a major client, I already felt the cracks forming. Competing stakeholders, impossible deadlines, and politics disguised as strategy had left me drained. So I did what any exhausted consultant might do—I opened Netflix.
What I didn’t expect was for Squid Game Season 3 to become my unlikely business mentor.
What started as weekend escapism turned into a masterclass on power, pressure, and leadership. Below are the seven lessons that changed how I approach transformation—not just in business, but in life.
1. Even Good Intentions Can Become Harmful
In the show, Gi-hun reenters the deadly games with noble intentions: to dismantle the system from within. But the deeper he goes, the more he’s forced to betray his own values and hurt the people he’s trying to save.
Watching this unfold, I saw an uncomfortable reflection of myself. I’d entered my transformation project with a clear vision—lean operations, empowered teams, better outcomes for everyone. But somewhere along the way, I’d become obsessed with velocity, pushing changes onto people instead of working with them. My good intentions had become a form of organizational violence.
The lesson: Purpose doesn’t excuse harm. In business, good intentions need good execution, or they become just another form of control. The road to transformation hell is paved with urgent timelines and stakeholder demands.
2. Systems Thrive When No One Questions Them
One of the most chilling aspects of Squid Game is how the brutality persists because everyone—players, guards, and even viewers—just accepts it as inevitable. No one disrupts the game because “that’s just how it works.”
In my corporate world, this looked like senior leaders allowing inefficiencies to fester, not out of malice, but out of fear of rocking the boat. Broken processes continued because “we’ve always done it this way.” And I realized I was becoming part of that silence, delivering outputs instead of addressing root causes.
The lesson: If we don’t challenge the broken systems we inherit, we end up reinforcing them. True leadership isn’t about playing along—it’s about having the courage to call time on the game entirely.
3. Hope Can Be Both Powerful and Dangerous
Throughout the series, hope keeps players alive, driving them forward through unimaginable horror. But that same hope also blinds them to what they’re losing—their humanity, their relationships, their souls.
I realized I’d been selling the same kind of dangerous hope to my client. Behind my glossy PowerPoints and success metrics were exhausted teams, skeptical managers, and quiet resistance that I’d been too optimistic to acknowledge. I was offering false hope instead of honest progress.
The lesson: Real transformation honors reality. Hope must be earned through small wins and genuine progress, not sold through inspiring rhetoric. Sometimes the bravest thing isn’t to inspire—it’s to admit, “We’re not there yet, and here’s why.”
4. True Strength Lies in Strategic Sacrifice
Gi-hun doesn’t win by outlasting everyone else—he succeeds by knowing what to give up and when. This realization shook me to my core.
I’d been clinging to control like my life depended on it—owning every meeting, every slide, every decision. But leadership in transformation isn’t about dominance; it’s about empowerment. I needed to step back so others could step up. I had to sacrifice my need to be the hero so the team could become their own heroes.
The lesson: In complex change initiatives, your value isn’t measured by your visibility but by your willingness to make others visible. Sometimes the strongest move is knowing when to let go.
5. Spectacle Numbs the Soul
One of the most unsettling aspects of Squid Game Season 3 is how we, as viewers, become desensitized to the violence. What shocks us in episode one barely registers by episode nine. The blood becomes background noise.
I recognized this pattern in my own work. I’d been watching transformation dashboards light up green while ignoring the human toll. Good numbers, broken people. I was celebrating metrics while my team was burning out in real time.
The lesson: Metrics matter, but meaning matters more. If your KPIs are glowing while your people are burning out, you’re not winning—you’re watching something die in real time. Never let the spectacle of success blind you to its human cost.
6. Cycles Don’t Break Themselves
The games continue season after season because participants keep playing by the same rules. The cycle of violence perpetuates because no one refuses to participate—until finally, someone does.
In my transformation project, I kept trying to succeed within the existing system—working around toxic behaviors, dodging office politics, tiptoeing through bureaucratic red tape. Eventually, I realized the truth: the system doesn’t need to be navigated more skillfully; it needs to be fundamentally redesigned.
The lesson: True transformation begins when someone decides to stop playing the game by the old rules. Sometimes you have to break the cycle, even if it means short-term pain for long-term gain.
7. Legacy Lives in What You Leave Behind
Squid Game doesn’t end with a traditional victory—it ends with survival and continuation. A baby lives because someone was willing to give everything. The future exists because the present made a sacrifice.
This shifted how I viewed success entirely. I’d been chasing outcomes, milestones, and recognition. But maybe my real legacy wasn’t the roadmap or the rollout metrics. Maybe it was the team that would keep improving long after I moved on to the next project.
The lesson: Impact isn’t measured by the credit you receive but by what continues when you’re no longer in the room. The best transformations are the ones that become self-sustaining, powered by people who believe in the mission beyond any individual leader.
Final Thoughts
I never expected to find profound business wisdom buried in a Korean survival thriller, but here we are. Squid Game Season 3 didn’t just entertain me—it humbled me and forced me to confront uncomfortable truths about my approach to leadership and change.
Transformation isn’t just another strategy deck or change management framework. It’s a fundamental test of values, requiring courage, humility, and sometimes the wisdom to lose in order to win differently.
If you’re leading change in your organization, I challenge you to ask yourself these questions:
- Are you pushing transformation or facilitating it?
- Are you challenging broken systems or just navigating them more efficiently?
- Are you offering genuine hope or false optimism?
- What are you willing to sacrifice for the greater good?
- How will your work continue when you’re gone?
Most importantly: Are you playing a smarter version of the same old game, or are you finally ready to stop playing and start changing the rules?
Thanks for reading. If this resonates with you, share it with someone who’s leading change in the fire—or someone who needs permission to step out of the game entirely.
On Becoming An I(M)perfectionist 