Remaining Creative While Working in the Corporate Sector

I’ve spent over nine years in the corporate world—an existence that is anything but conducive to creativity. It’s a life that promises some stability for sure, but quietly, without you noticing, it starts to wrap itself around you like a tightening coil. Every morning starts the same: the alarm at the same time, breakfast like clockwork, and the commute that follows the same winding route to the office. There’s a rhythm to this life, but it’s not the rhythm of poetry or music. It’s the steady beat of meetings, targets, emails and spreadsheets, calendars crammed full of deadlines, and jargon that pretends that something big is happening—though most of the time it isn’t. And yet, there you are, like many others, at a computer for nine hours, surrounded by the same faces, chatting at the water cooler about the same promotions, job switches, and stock predictions. It’s a world that seems to squeeze the soul right out of you—leaving little room for the dreamers, the poets, the artists. And yet, somehow, we persist. 

I’ve met a lot of folks in this world and despite the old saying about not dipping your pen in company ink, I’ve made a few good friends along the way. Now, at the risk of putting people in neat little boxes, there are certain types you can’t help but meet over and over again in different faces. There’s the one who’s always got an eye on something better, even if they’ve just walked through the door a month ago. Then there’s the one who, after every vacation, talks about leaving it all behind to open a little café in the hills. You’ve got those who pour their hearts into their work, hoping to grind for a decade or so and then retire early, and those who do just enough to get by because their real passion is the side hustle they’re running in the background. And of course, there are the disillusioned ones—the ones who climbed the ladder, got the right degrees, passed all the interviews, only to find themselves trapped in a cubicle and dreaming of a smaller, quieter job. But then there are the creative souls, too—the quiet ones doodling during lunch breaks or making rebellious little attempts to cling to their whimsy by donning a motley outfit or plugging in their headphones to drown out the monotony with their favourite tunes. At the end, what all these people have in common, is their longing for respite, for escape from a certain sterility that confines them.

Hiring Individuals, not Team Members

I’ll admit, I’ve been part of that last group myself. In the second or third year of my career, I’d start each day by scribbling a favourite song lyric on the whiteboard in my office room. My team and I would listen to our favourite tunes or podcasts on a speaker while we worked, and our room often got too boisterous with the debates about everything under the sun. Sometimes, we’d stretch lunch breaks, and sometimes, we’d break up the work routine to go out for an impulsive hunt for donuts. I was lucky back then to have coworkers who enjoyed indulging in such things. It was all spontaneous, a far cry from the mind-numbing “team-building activities” that were planned out for us. This taught me something valuable about hiring. You can train a new hire on skills after all, even if you can’t compromise on them altogether. What I mean is hiring people with a second life (I once hired a guy who was a part-time drummer in a band), or a secret passion (another had a love for filmmaking and always knew the best movies to recommend) or a unique trait (there was this one guy, so funny that we were all convinced he should quit and try his hand at comedy). It’s that kind of individuality that makes the difference.

Room for Impulsivity

Managers tend to shy away from encouraging too much individuality, fearing it might open the floodgates to impulsiveness and unpredictability. After all, in the corporate world, consistency is what sells—a steady hand, a reputation for reliability. That’s what gets rewarded, not risk-taking or bursts of creative flair. You’ve got to carve out your own space for a little impulsivity. Sure, it’s easier if you’ve got a flexible work arrangement or if you’ve already earned the trust that comes with a solid reputation. But even if you haven’t, there’s room to shake things up. If your best work happens in the morning, why not do something different one day? Write a bit of poetry before diving into your tasks. Take a fifteen minute break and go for a walk in the neighbourhood. Shift your routine at times, push work to a different hour. Not just to do creative things, but just to avoid getting in a rut. Don’t let yourself get swept up in the race to outdo yourself day after day, hitting higher targets just for the sake of it. The corporate grind doesn’t have to be the death of your imagination. That relentless drive for efficiency can strangle creativity - and it’s often in those unplanned, unstructured moments where the best ideas are born. If inspiration strikes on a particular day, as if a fresh insight is clamouring to be captured or a new poem is lingering on the tip of your tongue, INDULGE IT! Even if it happens during work hours. 

The Traps of a Corporate Environment

Spending too much time in the corporate world can box you in—same people, same ideas, same conversations. After a while, you might find yourself recycling the same words, parroting the jargon that floats around the office like “actionable insights” or “elevator pitch.” Sure, using those words might make you sound sharp for a minute, but don’t let them cage your vocabulary. If creativity is your thing—especially if you’re a writer—words are your tools, and you don’t want them dulled by corporate speak.

And then there's the relentless pressure to be politically correct. It’s tempting to compartmentalise—keep your work persona separate from who you are outside the office. But over time, this balancing act becomes exhausting, even confusing. You don’t have to jump up to take a stand on every issue that comes along, but pick a few battles worth fighting. And words? Well, they’re as good a battleground as any. The path of creativity requires a willingness to explore uncharted territory, and the outcome can be addressed when you get there.

Another trap is mistaking busyness for progress. Corporate life tends to reward people who are constantly in motion—attending meetings, hitting deadlines, moving from task to task. You’re so caught up in the whirlwind of daily tasks that you don’t have time to think deeply or let new ideas take shape. Creativity requires moments of stillness, and if you’re always rushing, you might miss the spark of inspiration altogether.

Another trap that can pull you under is the never-ending game of one-upmanship. I see it all the time—people spending their Saturday nights at parties, comparing promotions, cars, houses. It’s a cycle of social comparison that can suck the life out of you if you’re not careful. When your energy is spent trying to outshine the next person, you lose sight of what really matters—like carving out time for your creativity. An older colleague once told me something that’s stuck with me: “The goal isn’t to win the game. The goal is to leave the game.” And that’s the real trick—knowing when to step away from the race, so you can make space for what truly feeds your soul.

Upholding Beauty as a Virtue

When you work in an office, surrounded by the hum of computers, it’s easy to let the beauty of life slip through the cracks. But maintaining beauty in your surroundings can make a difference. Think about it—there were so many universities built with stunning architecture, their ivy-clad walls and grand halls, all designed to stir the creative mind. This is because beauty invites thought, reflection, and a sense of possibility. Now, compare that to the modern metropolitan sprawl most of us live in—take urban Delhi, for instance, where the skyline is dominated by tall office buildings and soulless apartment complexes. There’s little in the way of architectural charm to nourish the creative spirit. But that’s exactly why you need to bring beauty into your own space. Inspiration often reveals itself in the everyday moments—whether it’s the delicate arrangement of fresh flowers on your desk, a vibrant watercolour painting adorning your wall, the art of brewing a perfectly balanced cup of coffee during a break, or the feel of an antique fountain pen tucked neatly in your coat pocket.

One of the things I particularly appreciate about Jordan Peterson’s podcast videos is his attention to aesthetics. His guests are insightful, and the content itself is captivating—he could easily stop there. But he doesn’t. Instead, he takes the extra step to ensure that the backdrop is visually appealing, as though he understands that beauty has a role to play even in serious discussions. Too often, highly intelligent or successful people dismiss aesthetics, thinking it’s something only those lacking in substance need to worry about. I couldn’t disagree more. There’s a deep satisfaction in beauty—it enhances the experience, sharpens focus, and reminds us that form and substance don’t just coexist; they elevate one another.

Switching Commanders between Discipline and Creativity

This is easier said than done, of course, because this is where personality starts to play its part. Take me, for instance—I rank in the 99th percentile for Conscientiousness and the 98th for Openness to Experience in the Big 5 Model, which means I’m often torn between two opposing forces. It’s a strange push and pull—one part of me wants to wander off and explore every new idea that pops up, while the other part wants to stick to the plan and meet every deadline. Lately, though, I’ve learned how to use these traits to my advantage rather than let them pull me in opposite directions. Openness allows my mind to roam, to entertain creative thoughts during the most tedious office tasks. But Conscientiousness pulls me back to reality, ensuring I don’t get lost down too many rabbit holes. On my best days, when I’m well-rested and fed, I can even balance both. I consume art or music while I produce work, letting creativity and productivity coexist, even if only for a while.

“Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul.
If either your sails or your rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas.
For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction.
Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion, that it may sing;
And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its own daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes.”
- Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet.