Signed in as:
filler@godaddy.com
Signed in as:
filler@godaddy.com

As kids, we made sense of the world through play.
Experimenting. Imagining. Making things up.
Learning through curiosity and chaos.
Then we grew up and discovered that humour could still steady a room.
A cracked smile between impossible deadlines.
A laugh that made a hard day human again.
Somewhere between becoming “professional” and becoming efficient,
we misplaced the parts that made us whole.
We learned to shrink.
To compartmentalize.
To flatten, polish, and self-edit until only a fraction of us
was allowed through the door.
We built systems that rewarded the fraction
and quietly punished the rest.
And now, something is changing.
Not loudly.
Not all at once.
But unmistakably.
People are starting to feel the cost of constant adaptation.
The exhaustion of performing coherence instead of living it.
The quiet disorientation of working in systems that no longer make sense.
So we’re reclaiming what was never meant to be lost.
Our bearings.
Our discernment.
Our imagination.
Our humour.
Our ability to feel when something is off before we can explain it.
We believe in serious play.
Not as escape, but as access.
Play brings the body back into thinking.
Emotion back into intelligence.
Curiosity back into work.
It restores the full spectrum of human intelligence.
Emotional. Social. Creative. Cognitive.
The kind that cannot be automated without being emptied of meaning.
We are not anti-AI.
We are anti-amnesia.
We are here to remember what human intelligence feels like
before it gets flattened into metrics, dashboards, and performance theatre.
We built organizations so optimized they forgot who they were for.
We automated reflection.
Monetized meaning.
Branded empathy for quarterly use.
We ranked analytic intelligence above every other kind
and called that progress.
Meanwhile, the instincts we buried
our humour, sensitivity, imagination, weirdness
are exactly what we need now.
Humour is how we surface truth without breaking people.
Laughter is how we interrupt the spell.
Satire is how we make the invisible visible again.
Because you can’t change what you can’t first laugh at.
Breaking rules isn’t the problem.
Breaking people is.
So we choose to Behave Badly Better.
Not to disrupt for sport,
but to bring the whole human back into rooms
that only ever made space for a fraction.
This is for the ones who roll their eyes in meetings.
Who feel the culture before they can articulate it.
Who see the absurdity no one wants to name.
For the ones who refuse to shrink anymore.
Welcome to BBHQ.
This is where reclamation begins.
Giddy up.
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