Actually, it's a bad idea to bring your 'whole self' to work

• There's an idea going around that we should bring our "whole selves" to work.
• I've made that mistake, and I regret it.

One of the most bizarre work-culture trends in recent years is the theory that you should "bring your whole self to work."

Unless you're intentionally trying to annoy or confuse colleagues or sabotage your career, that is a terrible idea.

No one should bring their whole self to work.

This isn't because we're all secretly horrible people or because, at work, we have to act and look like automatons and bleach ourselves of any hint of personality and differentness.

It's because we all have quirks, habits, beliefs, and traits that may be appropriate and understood (or at least tolerated) among friends and family but that can be misunderstood or annoying or disrespectful (or worse) at work. After all, at work, we need to earn the trust and respect of people who don't know us well, who may have different sensibilities than we do, who aren't choosing to hang out with us, who may not appreciate our sense of humor, and who can't just tell us to go to hell if we say or do something that hurts or pisses them off.

Thanks to the #MeToo movement and other toxic workplace stories over the years, we've seen vividly how harmful it can be when some people bring their "whole selves" to work. Harvey Weinstein's "whole self" was monstrous.

We've also recently all seen less extreme examples: Kansas City Chiefs tight end Travis Kelce's whole self may be physical and passionate, but as Kelce himself later acknowledged, he should never have aggressively bumped his coach on the sideline and screamed in his face.

But it's also true with everyday behavior.

There's no hard and fast line about what is and isn't OK in the workplace, and it differs by organization, industry, and situation. So you'll have to use your judgment.

But one rule of thumb might be this:

Only bring the parts of yourself to work that are helpful to you, your colleagues, your mission, your career, and your organization — and that you think will be perceived as respectful and professional by the people you work with.

(Note the "will be perceived as." You don't get to dictate how your colleagues perceive you. The best you can do is try to act and speak in ways you think others will find respectful and professional.)

Dressing professionally is one example. Unless the way you dress at home qualifies as "professional" — and it certainly doesn't for me — you'll want to leave the personal-sartorial-preferences part of yourself at home. (By the way, it's amazing how the definition of "dressing professionally" has changed over the years, especially on Wall Street. White sneakers? Seriously?)

Another example is drinking.

Lots of us enjoy having a drink or two (or more) with friends.

We do this even while knowing that alcohol weakens our inhibitions, worsens our judgment, and increases the likelihood that we will say or do stupid things.

Well, none of those things are helpful at work. And more than a few people have drunk too much at a work event, done or said something stupid, and gotten fired for it.

So if you choose to drink alcohol at work — even at a work-sponsored event — it's wise not to drink so much that your "whole drunk self" appears and costs you your job.

And here are two more examples from my own career — both of which reflected parts of myself that I wish I had left at home.

I used to swear a lot. Almost every sentence that came out of my mouth was punctuated with an s-bomb or f-bomb, particularly when I was impassioned about something.

In the very early days at Business Insider, when we were a tiny startup and I worked with a handful of teammates who knew each other well, I shared that part of myself. My colleagues spoke the same way, and we had a colorful camaraderie, so it seemed appropriate at the time. I hope I didn't offend anyone.

But then one day, during an all-hands speech to a Business Insider team that, by then, had grown to more than a hundred people, I heard myself dropping those f-bombs. And, as I looked out over my teammates' faces, it occurred to me that not all of them might consider it appropriate or funny or inspiring for me to speak like that. I also realized that I didn't have to speak that way to get my points across — that I could keep that part of myself to myself. So I stopped using the f-bombs.

And then there were those infamous emails my team and I wrote to each other back when I was an analyst on Wall Street.

We loved to amuse each other in email, my teammates and I. We loved to vent. We loved to use colorful language. We loved to virtually roll our eyes together about the absurdities and frustrations we encountered as we did our jobs. Etc.

Speaking that way — sardonically, colorfully, casually, emotionally, and unprofessionally, to people I knew well — was collegial and fun. It was part of my "whole self." And it was another part I wish I had left at home.

Because, later, when former New York Attorney General Eliot Spitzer read those emails, he interpreted them differently and accused us of fraud.

That sucked.

So, if you, too, enjoy communicating unprofessionally with friends, don't make the same mistake I did and bring that part of yourself to work!