Not That Kind of Fun
Why real rituals inspire, forced joy exhausts, and how to tell the difference!
In a world hungry for connection, the idea of infusing our days with ritual is appealing—especially outside the home, where many of us spend the majority of our time. Done well, rituals can foster meaning, build trust, and gently nudge us toward creativity, courage, and cohesion. But done poorly—without consent, clarity, or cultural fit—they are almost guaranteed to backfire.
A recent news article highlights a growing corporate trend: “forced joy”—mandating positivity as part of the job. Starbucks baristas were directed not just to make your latte, but to scrawl pre-approved affirmations like “You’re amazing!” or “Seize the day!” on cups, per a memo from CEO Brian Niccol urging that employees must attempt to “manufacture a feeling.” Critics rightfully argue that this directive adds friction—especially during busy mornings—making genuine connection feel scripted and performative. (When the pick-up line is backed up, do you really want the barista to waste their time and yours drawing a smiley face on the cup??)
Starbucks isn’t alone. At Alphabet (a.k.a. Google), office staff were told their workdays should be not only productive but also “fun.” Tiffany & Co. rolled out an internal app called “Tiffany Joy” to encourage upbeat posting, but employees soon mocked it as “Forced Joy.” What started as an effort to boost morale turned into a chore . . . and company leadership ended up having to prod staff to participate, turning "joy" into just another checkbox.
These are cautionary tales—not just for companies, but for anyone trying to foster connection. When joy is mandated, when fun becomes performance, engagement drops and cynicism rises. And if there’s one thing the world doesn’t need more of right now, it’s cynicism! This is ritual gone wrong.
The irony is that rituals can add real value when they arise organically. As I explore in Your Guide to Ritual Design, the same principles that shape personal creative rituals can also help workplaces, families, teams, and communities build shared culture in ways that actually resonate. The Stanford Ritual Design Lab, led by researchers Kursat Ozenc and Margaret Hagan, asked: why do so many rituals feel hollow, awkward, or cringey? Their answer: most are imposed from the top down, rather than co-created with the people they're meant to serve.
In their book Rituals for Work, Ozenc and Hagan outline how effective rituals are:
Value-aligned: rooted in shared meaning.
Co-created: shaped by the people involved.
Elastic: able to evolve with the community.
One of my favorite examples from their work is “Touch Here for Special Powers.” It’s a simple, optional ritual where a physical object—like a sign or a statue—becomes a touchstone for confidence, focus, or purpose. Fans of Ted Lasso will recognize this ritual in the “Believe” sign that players tapped on their way out of the locker room. It was part serious, part silly and surprisingly powerful.
That’s why it felt like such a gut punch when Nate tore the Believe sign in a moment of betrayal. It wasn’t just paper—it was shared trust, collective energy, and a symbol that had taken on sacred weight through repetition and intention. When he ripped it, we all felt the rupture. :(
Another one of my Ritual Design Lab favorites is “Elephant, Dead Fish, and Vomit,” an exercise that offers a shared language for honesty in groups:
Elephants are the big, unspoken issues.
Dead fish are old, lingering problems that still stink.
Vomit is the stuff you need to get off your chest—even if it’s messy.
The point is to create space for real talk, in a way that disarms tension and invites courage. But like all good rituals, it only works if everyone understands its purpose and agrees to participate.
Contrast this with the performative cheer of “forced joy.” Whether it’s a corporate memo, a family tech sabbath, or a school spirit chant, rituals that are mandated without meaning tend to backfire. They become obligations, not invitations. People disengage—or worse, mock the very thing that was meant to bring them together. (As someone who has tried to impose many a ritual on loved ones, trust me on this!)
When Starbucks baristas started scribbling movie monologues and liberation pleas on cups, they weren’t being snarky for sport—they were pushing back against a joy that didn’t feel authentic. The takeaway? Authentic rituals emerge organically—they aren’t decreed from above. They’re invitations, not demands. They resonate because they’re meaningful, not because they’re mandated.
So next time you’re tempted to impose a new ritual on anyone, try asking:
Is this meaningful, or just messaging?
Does it reflect our real values, or the ones we wish we had?
Have the people involved helped shape it, or are they just performing it?
When rituals are rooted in authenticity, shaped with care, and practiced with intention, they don’t just fill time—they give it shape. They become anchors in our days and bridges between us. Whether at work, at home, or in community, the rituals that matter are the ones we choose freely, believe in deeply, and return to often.
So let’s stop performing connection and start cultivating it! Let’s design rituals that people step into freely, rituals that call forth the best version of who we’re meant to be.