You Don’t Have to Keep Offering Your Neck

Every workplace has them.

The person who needs just a little more reassurance. One more conversation. One more clarification. One more check-in. One more “quick question” that somehow becomes a 37-minute discussion involving three people, two Slack threads, and at least one person staring blankly into the distance afterward.

The energy vampire.

Before anyone starts mentally assembling a list of suspects, I should probably clarify something: I don’t think energy vampires are difficult people. In fact, some of them are the most caring, conscientious, deeply invested people in the organization.

They care tremendously about the people they serve. Or, in keeping with our metaphor, the people they munch on.

And therein lies the problem.

The Nicest Vampire You’ll Ever Meet

When we hear “energy vampire,” it’s easy to picture someone negative, demanding, dramatic, or chronically dissatisfied. Those people certainly exist. But I’ve seen another version inside medical practices, and they’re much harder to recognize.

They’re often helpful. Really helpful.

They check on everyone. They jump in when someone is struggling. They answer questions that probably could’ve been answered by someone else. They make sure nobody feels uncomfortable. They anticipate problems before they happen. They rescue, reassure, explain, smooth over, follow up, and fill every gap they see.

They care. Sometimes they care so much they’ve forgotten where they end and everyone else begins. And eventually, something strange happens. The entire team begins depending on that person’s seemingly endless supply of energy.

“I’ll ask Susan.”

“Susan probably knows.”

“Susan can handle it.”

“Susan always fixes that.”

Meanwhile, Susan is answering a patient message, resolving a scheduling problem, helping a coworker make a decision, and wondering why she feels like she’s been hit by a truck at 4:30 every afternoon.

Everyone loves Susan. Nobody has noticed that Susan is slowly being consumed by the village. Plot twist: Susan might be the vampire and the victim.

Energy Vampires Come in Many Forms

The energy vampire isn’t always the person asking for more. Sometimes it’s the person who can’t stop giving more. One drains energy by repeatedly seeking reassurance, attention, or rescue. The other drains energy by over-functioning, absorbing everyone else’s problems, and stepping in before anyone has a chance to figure things out. And sometimes those two people find each other and create a remarkably efficient little ecosystem.

Some energy drains are obvious. There’s the chronically unhappy person for whom no solution is quite sufficient. The patient whose portal message becomes a group project.

The coworker who brings every problem to you but rarely brings a proposed solution. The person who turns a small process change into a constitutional crisis.

But sometimes the drain is far subtler. It’s the employee who needs repeated reassurance before making ordinary decisions. It’s the leader who says she wants her team to take ownership but still needs to approve every email, every process, every decision, and possibly the brand of paper towels in the breakroom.

It’s the manager who immediately swoops in whenever someone is uncomfortable rather than allowing that person to work through a problem.

It’s the colleague who cares so deeply about getting things right that everyone else has learned it’s easier to let her do it.

And then there’s my personal favorite: “I just have one quick question.”

If you’ve been around long enough, you know those words can mean anything from 45 seconds to the complete disappearance of your afternoon.

The Problem Isn’t Always the Person

This is where I think we need to give our vampires a little grace. Most people don’t wake up in the morning thinking, “Whose life force can I consume today?” At least I hope not.

They may be anxious. They may be afraid of making a mistake. They may have worked in environments where mistakes were punished harshly. They may genuinely believe that being a good teammate means always being available. They may feel responsible for everyone’s experience. They may simply have learned that if they ask long enough, someone else will eventually make the decision for them.

And sometimes we’ve taught them that. That’s the uncomfortable part.

If every time someone struggles, we step in, solve the problem, soothe the anxiety, make the decision, and take ownership, eventually they learn to come back for more. It works. For them. Not necessarily for us.

Stop Offering Your Neck

Here’s the thing: you don’t have to diagnose the vampire. You have to stop offering your neck.

You don’t necessarily need to understand why someone requires so much reassurance before you put better boundaries around how much reassurance you provide.

You don’t have to decide whether a patient is “too needy” before establishing clear expectations about portal messages.

You don’t have to determine why an employee struggles with decisions before clarifying which decisions are theirs to make.

You don’t have to psychoanalyze the coworker who continually brings you problems before asking, “What do you think we should do?”

Sometimes the answer isn’t another conversation about the person. It’s a better system around the behavior. That might mean clearer roles. Defined escalation paths. Communication expectations. Decision-making authority. Office hours. Response-time guidelines. Training. Templates. Boundaries around what constitutes an emergency.

And occasionally it means accepting that someone may simply not be a good fit for the practice. That isn’t cruel. It’s part of running a healthy organization.

Watch for the Capes

There’s one more vampire I think leaders need to watch carefully. The one in the mirror.

Healthcare attracts people who care deeply about other people. That’s a wonderful thing. But caring and rescuing aren’t the same thing. I’ve watched excellent leaders wear themselves out trying to make sure nobody is confused, nobody is disappointed, nobody waits too long, nobody makes the wrong decision, nobody feels unsupported, and nobody ever has to experience the mild discomfort of figuring something out.

Eventually, everyone becomes dependent on the rescuer. And then the rescuer wonders why nobody takes ownership. The best leaders I’ve worked with have taught me that supporting people sometimes means not immediately saving them. You give them the information they need. You create reasonable guardrails. You stay available when something truly needs escalation. And then you let them use their judgment.

There may be some discomfort in that. For everyone. That’s okay.

Protect the Energy of the Practice

A medical practice has a finite amount of attention, patience, time, and emotional energy available on any given day. Those resources matter. When one person consistently consumes a disproportionate share of them, everyone else gets less. The team gets less. Patients get less. The owner gets less. Eventually, the person doing all that caring has nothing left either.

The solution isn’t to stop caring. It’s to care with boundaries. Help people without becoming responsible for everything they feel. Support your team without removing every opportunity for them to develop confidence. Be responsive to patients without creating an expectation of unlimited access. Solve problems without making yourself the permanent solution to every problem.

And if you happen to recognize yourself somewhere in this post, welcome. I suspect most of us have worn the cape and the fangs at one point or another.

Just remember:

You don’t have to diagnose the vampire.

But you can stop offering your neck.