Does your workplace have a problem with personnel with serious Main Character Energy? Lessons from the Devil Wears Prada 2.
What happens when a person behaving badly is… too big to fail? What the Hollywood sequel shows us managing misconduct by an organisation’s golden child.
The Devil Wears Prada 2 has prompted more hot takes than a Croisette stroll at the Cannes Film Festival.
It’s a movie about workplace bullying, toxic bosses, work-life balance, workplace brom-com (Nigel/Stanely Tucci’s mentoring of Andy/Anne Hathaway over two decades is the beating heart of the sequel, according to some) as well as the joy and tyranny of work dress codes, the death of legacy media and the threat of AI.
But there is another key workplace/industry hazard on show in the movie that this commentary has overlooked: the phenomenon known as “key person risk”. (Actually, it’s more commonly known as “key man risk” because… that’s what it usually is.)
Key person risk is the organisational vulnerability that arises when it relies too heavily on a single individual for its success, stability or daily operations. If that person were to suddenly leave, become ill, or die, the company would face substantial operational or financial distress because their specific knowledge, skills, or leadership could not be easily or quickly replaced.
Think the visionary founder or CEO – people like Apple’s Steve Jobs or Elon Musk of Tesla, X and SpaceX.
The rainmaker – people like Warren Buffett, the personification of investment conglomerate Berkshire Hathaway.
The creative genius – in fashion-speak, “icons” like ex-Chanel designer Karl Lagerfeld or the Devil herself, Vogue and Conde Nast supremo Anna Wintour.
Conduct by Musk, Lagerfeld or Wintour has at times been associated with various scandals (reported anti-trans and body shaming comments, shilling for billionaires with dubious labour and environmental records) that would for non-key persons, likely trigger a mea culpa and fall from the leadership pedestal.
Plenty of organisations faced this actual or perceived challenge. Is yours one of them? Check this handy rule:
If a business cannot function for two weeks without a specific employee checking their email or making decisions, that business has a critical key person risk.
The Miranda Priestly dilemma: high performance, low compliance
Everyone has at some point experienced their own Miranda Priestly. The brilliant neurosurgeon whose bedside manner is appalling but whose hands pull in millions for the hospital in funding and philanthropy. The star university researcher whose grants fund an entire department but whose lab is a revolving door of traumatized PhD students. The top-tier partner at a law firm who brings in 40 per cent of the fees while actively victimising junior associates.
When a key person uses sarcasm as a strategic weapon, belittles subordinates, or retaliates against those exercising a workplace right, leadership teams routinely freeze. They fall into the trap of “calculated tolerance.” The board and the CEO look at the balance sheet. On one side: the cultural cost of bad behaviour. On the other: the immediate, catastrophic revenue or reputational loss if that person walks out the door. Too often, the “balancing act” favours the status quo. But this calculation misprices the true cost of toxic genius.
The hidden cost of looking the other way
When HR and senior leadership avert their eyes to protect a rainmaker, they aren’t saving the organisation money; they are taking out a high-interest loan against their corporate culture. The compounding interest manifests in three distinct liabilities:
- The “enabler tax
In The Devil Wears Prada, we watch capable professionals like Andy Sachs and Emily Charlton expend immense cognitive energy just navigating the emotional landmines laid by their boss. In the real world, this results in severe psychological fatigue. Your best mid-level talent—the people who actually execute the strategy—will not stay to be human shields. When they leave, they take the organisation’s future succession pipeline with them.
- The normalisation of bad behaviour
When a key person openly flouts behavioural standards without consequence, those standards cease to exist. The rest of the organisation observes that performance absolves misconduct. Sarcasm replaces collaboration; belittling becomes the standard tool for managing underperformance. The culture rots from the head down, as the saying goes.
- Legal and regulatory reckoning
Modern governance frameworks have evolved past the point where a board can plead ignorance. Regulators are increasingly tying psychological safety directly to workplace health and safety obligations. If an employee is victimised for raising a workplace right or voicing a concern about a “golden child,” the liability doesn’t stop with the perpetrator—it lands squarely on the desks of the CEO and the board for failing to provide a safe working environment.
De-risking the high-flyer
How do senior HR leaders and CEOs break the hostage dynamic holding their organisation captive to a toxic key person? It requires shifting from crisis management to deliberate, structural de-risking:
- Decentralise knowledge: Enforce robust documentation and mandatory cross-training. If a rainmaker objects to sharing client relationships or shadowing junior colleagues, treat it as an operational red flag, not an eccentric quirk.
- Implement “blind” psychosocial reporting: Traditional HR channels fail when reporting on a C-suite executive because employees fear career termination. Implement independent, third-party reporting mechanisms to map objective patterns of behaviour.
- Connect wealth to team health: Restructure executive remuneration to tie bonuses and long-term incentives to cultural health metrics, 360-degree feedback, and team retention rates.
The flipside: when friction signifies excellence
The last thing any organisation needs – including Runway magazine at the peak of its powers or crumbling in the face of Reels and AI – is to lose the genius and creativity that have been central to its success.
There is a nuanced counter-take to this dynamic that modern management often glosses over: what a fresh hire perceives as arrogant, entitled, or scornful behaviour can sometimes be the friction generated by an organisation that ruthlessly prizes excellence.
In high-stakes environments, a withering response to a junior employee isn’t always a sign of systemic malice; it can be a blunt, albeit unvarnished, reflection of a vast gap in expertise. When a new staff member demands the privileges of a peer before they have even bothered to master the fundamental grammar of their industry, expecting a protective corporate cushion can be its own form of entitlement. True professional respect is earned through competence, and an elite culture that refuses to lower its standards for beginners isn’t necessarily broken—it may be simply demanding.
This distinction is precisely what charts Andy Sachs’ growth across the narrative arc of the franchise. In the first film, Andy’s early professional misery is largely self-inflicted by her own lack of preparation—perfectly encapsulated when she holds up a phone and asks, with a mix of helplessness and apathy, “Can you please spell ‘Gabbana’?” At that stage, Miranda’s icy dismissal is less about bullying and more about a refusal to tolerate an employee who hasn’t done their homework.
By the time we see them interact in the sequel, the dynamic has fundamentally shifted. Once Andy has demonstrated absolute competence—such as snaring a near-impossible interview through sheer grit and resourcefulness—Miranda’s demeanour thaws into a distinct, earned warmth. It is a great lesson for senior leaders: while psychological safety is non-negotiable, a high-performance culture must still maintain a threshold where respect is inextricably linked to demonstrated capability.
The ultimate challenge for a CEO or HR director lies in distinguishing between a culture that demands elite excellence and one that merely protects toxic individuals out of fear. Allowing a key person to operate completely above the law because the business cannot survive two weeks without them is not pragmatic risk management; it is a failure of leadership. The goal shouldn’t be to eliminate high standards, but to ensure those standards apply to everyone—ensuring your organisation thrives because of its systems, rather than remaining hostage to its devils.