He walked into the office and everyone stood up. His phone rang less often—people were simply afraid to disturb him. The driver waited downstairs, doors opened before he reached them, and the best table in any restaurant was always “miraculously” free. Then they fired him. In one single day.

The next morning he came to the same building, but this time as a regular visitor. Security stopped him and asked, “Do you have an appointment?” The cleaning lady, who only yesterday chirped “Good morning, Mr. Johnson,” walked past him without a glance. The phone stayed silent. There was no driver. For the first time in years, he rode the subway at rush hour, holding the rail like everyone else.

He told this story to a therapist three months later and couldn’t explain why it hurt so much. It was “just a job,” right? Turns out, over the years he had literally sewn his identity to the position. When it was ripped away, there was a gaping hole left behind.

This isn’t a unique story. It’s a textbook case.

The Halo Effect That Vanishes With the Crown

In psychology, this phenomenon is often referred to as identity fusion or role enmeshment. When someone gains high status, the brain starts treating privileges not as temporary perks, but as extensions of the self. It stops being “I’m allowed to do this” and becomes “This is who I am.”

This transformation happens through powerful dopamine feedback loops: every “Yes, sir,” every deferential head-nod, and every scrambled attempt to please is a tiny hit of chemical reward. Over time, the neural pathways rewire, and the person literally grows into the role.

Dacher Keltner’s famous research on the "Power Paradox" at Berkeley showed that the longer people hold power, the worse they become at reading emotions on other people’s faces. The brain simply stops bothering to empathize—because other people’s positive reactions are guaranteed by the position, not by you as a human being.

Then the position disappears. The dopamine injections stop cold turkey. What follows is what clinicians often describe as Status Loss Syndrome or post-power depression. The symptoms are distinct: emptiness, irritability, a sudden feeling of invisibility, and in severe cases, full-blown clinical depression.

The worst part is that you can’t explain it to family or friends. They might say, “You’re alive, healthy, you still have money…” But they don't understand that something invisible has been amputated: the identity you spent years building out of other people’s bows and opened doors.

The Real-Life Stanford Prison Experiment, Only Slower

Back in 1971, Philip Zimbardo randomly assigned ordinary students to be either “guards” or “prisoners.” Within days, the guards became cruel and authoritarian, while the prisoners broke down. The study was stopped after only six days because it got dangerously out of hand.

The most fascinating part, however, came afterward. When the “guards” were told, “It’s over, go home,” many of them couldn’t switch back for days. They kept speaking condescendingly, demanded respect, and got angry when no one obeyed. The role had stuck harder than they realized.

Real life does the exact same thing—just more gradually and more insidiously.

Why Some People Shatter and Others Don’t Even Notice

There are people who leave the corner office with the “CEO” nameplate and the very next day drink coffee at the same old café they used ten years ago when they were nobody. Someone might recognize them and say hello, but without the old reverence. And they smile the same smile.

The secret is simple: they never confused the suit with their own skin.

Research identifies two big protective factors against post-power syndrome:

• Internal Locus of Control: These people believe outcomes depend on their own actions, not the title. They think, “People respected me because I did the job well,” not “People respected me because I was the boss.”
• A Strong Core Identity: This is the part of you that exists independent of titles or net worth. You’re a father, a guitar player, the guy who always helps neighbors carry groceries. When you have something that remains even if everything else is stripped away, the fall isn’t as terrifying.

A Quick Self-Check for “Chair Attachment”

Answer honestly (just in your head is fine):

1. When was the last time you introduced yourself to someone without mentioning your job title or company?
2. Could you show up to a school reunion tomorrow and feel completely comfortable even if everyone there is currently more successful than you?
3. If you lost everything tomorrow—position, money, network—who would still want to grab a beer with you on Friday night?
4. If those questions make you squirm a little, that’s okay. It’s just a signal that it’s time to strengthen the parts that stay when the chair is gone.

How Not to Let the Role Eat You Alive

If you feel yourself slipping into the trap of role fusion, you can take deliberate steps to ground yourself:

• Deliberately create “mask-off” rituals. Go grocery shopping yourself. Pay with your personal card, not the corporate one. Standing in line is the best antidote to the illusion of exceptionalism.
• Keep pre-success friends close. These are the ones who knew you when you were broke and ordinary. They are your reality anchor.
• Pick up something where you’re a beginner again. Painting classes, a boxing gym, or volunteering at an animal shelter. Go to places where you’re once again “that guy who keeps forgetting the combination.” It’s incredibly healing to be unskilled.
• Analyze the praise. When someone praises you, pause and ask: are they praising me or the position? With practice, you learn to tell the difference.

Last Thing

Ancient Roman emperors had a slave ride behind them during triumphal parades, whispering, “Memento mori”—remember you will die. Modern executives need someone whispering, “Remember, it’s just a role.”

Because one day you’ll walk out of that office for the last time. The door will close. The lights will go out. And then you’ll discover that the most valuable things you ever carried weren’t in the briefcase or the five-thousand-dollar suit pocket.

You carried them inside you the whole time.

You just sometimes forgot to look.

References

• Keltner, D. (2016). The Power Paradox: How We Gain and Lose Influence. Penguin. (Details the neurological and behavioral changes that occur when individuals assume positions of power, including the loss of empathy).
• Zimbardo, P. (2007). The Lucifer Effect: Understanding How Good People Turn Evil. Random House. (Provides the comprehensive retrospective and psychological analysis of the 1971 Stanford Prison Experiment and role internalization).
• Rotter, J. B. (1966). Generalized expectancies for internal versus external control of reinforcement. Psychological Monographs: General and Applied. (The foundational text defining "Locus of Control" as a personality trait).