Too Close for Comfort: Crossing Boundaries at Work (and Why I’m Done Staying Quiet)

After a veteran career spent building, supporting, and mentoring across teams, I’ve learned that work is supposed to be professional. Respectful. Safe.

But over the course of my career—and even earlier—I’ve encountered far too many moments where that wasn’t the case. Where boundaries were crossed, intentions were ignored, and my space was treated like it didn’t matter. I’ve stayed quiet for a long time, partly because of how I’m perceived. Because men “don’t get harassed.” Because people like me are “built to take it.”

I’ve had enough of that don’t‑ask‑don’t‑tell approach to personal boundaries — especially for men. So here’s mine.

A Heavy Start

My very first full-time job after college was at a youth development non-profit. I was a marketing designer and still learning how to navigate the workplace.

While reviewing a flyer I had designed, I asked a senior colleague for feedback. She was older, physically challenged, and extremely top-heavy—think holsters of double or triple-letter calibre. As she leaned over my chair to look at my screen, she rested what felt like a duffle bag full of sand directly on my back.

Two to three minutes. No apology. No acknowledgment.

Some might excuse it as an accident due to her physical condition. But it wasn’t. It was deliberate. It was inappropriate. And it was a quiet introduction to how easily people will violate your space and expect you to stay silent.

Too Friendly Isn’t Always Friendly

Years later, I attended an after-party for a marketing convention we hosted. The company culture was casual, extroverted, and youthful. The vibe was fun—but often blurred professional lines.

I stayed for less than an hour. In that short time, two different inebriated women threw themselves on me, getting way too close for comfort. At a different point in my life, maybe I would’ve welcomed the attention. But I had just become a father. I was with the love of my life. Instead of flattered, I felt disrespected and disturbed.

Men aren’t expected to say that. We’re supposed to enjoy it. But I didn’t. I just wanted to go home.

Fighting Isn’t a Love Language

That same night, a male colleague decided it would be fun to test my martial arts skills by jumping on my back. Drunk and animated, he kept trying to get me to fight him.

To defuse the situation, I offered a challenge: If I could slap him ten times without him blocking any, he’d have to back off. I landed every slap. He didn’t stop me once.

Then I left.

We call this kind of thing “playful.” But it’s not. It’s aggression. It’s pressure. And it has no place at a work event.

Words Matter

In another job, I was in a meeting with a designer and a teammate, reviewing mockups for a new interface. While critiquing a part of the old design, my teammate said, “Yeah, that’s gay.”

The designer and I paused, unsure if we’d heard him right. She kept going—professional as ever—until he said it again.

I stopped the meeting immediately. Thanked her. Told her we’d follow up later. Then I walked him into the hallway and let him know in no uncertain terms that what he said was not okay.

He was from India and had worked in rural New Jersey. I understood where the language came from, but I didn’t excuse it. I told him to apologize—to truly apologize—to our designer, who, by the way, is happily married to her wife.

Being respectful isn’t political correctness. It’s basic human decency.

Personal Isn't Professional

One of the engineers I mentored crossed a different kind of boundary. They didn’t have ulterior intentions, but they didn’t understand the line between friendly and too personal.

They sent me artwork. Postcards. Holiday cards. Letters. DMs. Texts. FaceTimes. They called me. A lot.

One night—while I was getting my kids to bed—they showed up at my house with our “that’s gay” teammate and some random friend, bringing Christmas gifts for my children. I appreciated the gesture. But boundaries.

Just because we work together doesn’t mean we share a life. I’m married. I have a family. And I’ve worked hard to keep work and home separate.

If you're an engineer, you should understand this: good systems rely on encapsulation and separation of concerns. So do good relationships.

Not the 'Type' to Be Harassed

The thing is—I’m used to this.

In high school, girls slapped my butt like it was funny. In kung-fu class, women made comments about my body and sexual prowess. I come off as a “tough guy.” I’ve spent much of my life built stronger than most. I’m Latino, with African ancestry. People see that and make — assumptions.

That I’m immune. That I can handle it. That I couldn’t possibly feel violated.

But I do. And I have. And I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t matter.

Private Isn’t Public

There’s one more kind of boundary that gets crossed far too often—especially in group settings: personal disclosure.

People will casually ask about or reveal things like your medical issues, family plans, relationships, finances, or vacation destinations—without your consent or context. I've seen people announce pregnancies on behalf of others. I've been asked about deeply personal topics in front of people I barely know.

Here’s a simple rule: If someone hasn’t shared something with you, don’t assume it’s yours to bring up. And don’t put people on the spot to explain themselves just to satisfy curiosity.

Respect means not just what you say or do—but what you don’t ask.

Boundaries Are Not Optional

I like my space. I respect my relationships. I work hard, and I care deeply about the people in my life.

I’m not here to play games, or navigate other people’s blurry lines, or be put in positions where I have to justify why something felt wrong.

Too often, we dismiss these moments—especially when they happen to men. But we shouldn't. Everyone deserves respect. Everyone deserves boundaries.

That includes me.