WE HIRED ROCK STARS. WHY ARE WE STILL STUCK? How Strong Talent Reveals Weak Systems

By Leslie Rohonczy, IMC™, PCC

Executive Coach | Leadership Development Expert | Author | Speaker | ©2026 | www.leslierohonczy.com

 (LISTEN TO NARRATED AUDIOARTICLE VERSION)

On paper, it should be working. You raised the bar on hiring and brought in stronger talent; people who’ve operated at a high level, who aren’t easily rattled, and who get results. You expected lift, and fast!

I've heard versions of the following from leaders through my career: “We upgraded the team… and everything got slower. We need to do a better job recruiting the right people.” That 'diagnosis' sounds reasonable in the moment, especially when results don’t match expectations. But often, it isn’t the recruitment process that’s dropped the ball.

See if any of this sounds familiar: after an infusion of top talent, decisions take longer, time or resources get wasted as work circles back around, and conversations multiply. It can feel like the team got smarter and the work got stuck. This is often the point where the story starts to drift in the wrong direction, as leaders revisit hiring choices or question whether the new talent is as strong as it looked in the interviews. 

How is it possible to have less momentum when there’s more intelligence and experience in the room? Well, intelligence and experience aren’t usually the issue, even though this is the first place most leaders tend to look. In fact, hiring rock star talent doesn’t automatically improve performance; it reveals the limits of the systems that they are stepping into.

When capable people enter an environment where priorities aren’t consistently clear, where decision paths shift depending on who’s involved, and where expectations move midstream, the cracks become visible. They’re strong enough to feel the friction and unwilling to pretend it isn’t there.

Less experienced teams often push through messy systems without questioning them, assuming it’s 'just how things are done around here'. Strong talent does something different; they notice what’s off, they test assumptions, and they slow down when something doesn’t add up. Their hesitation is worth paying attention to, because what you may experience as a slowdown is often a system being exposed, which can feel frustrating until you see what it’s pointing to.

A team isn’t just a group of skilled individuals operating independently; it’s more like a busy airspace. You can have the best pilots in the world flying planes in and out, but without clear signals, defined flight paths, fueling and food service systems that keeps everything moving safely and efficiently, things start to circle, delay, and back up (or worse).

I've observed leadership teams full of smart, seasoned people spend an hour circling a decision that should have taken ten minutes, simply because ownership wasn’t clear and no one was quite sure who had the call. Even with highly capable people in place, an unclear structure will create bottlenecks.

This is where leadership habits begin to show up, especially when things feel messy. The instinct for many leaders is to tighten control by adding another checkpoint, getting more involved in decisions, and increasing oversight. It just feels responsible and accountable in the moment.

But what it often does is force high-performing people to adapt to outdated systems that were never designed for how they think or the high level they're used to operating at. You can almost feel their energy drop when that happens, which is where performance stalls and engagement begins to erode well before it becomes obvious. People still contribute, but with less conviction. They start conserving their energy instead of investing their discretionary effort, and they hold back valuable input and ideas when what's really needed is their best thinking and fresh perspectives.

The better leadership move is to examine the systems and processes those people are working within, rather than managing them more closely. Get curious about:

• Where work slows down for reasons that no longer make sense

• Where decisions are delayed because ownership is unclear

• Where approvals add time without adding value

• Where caution is rewarded more than thoughtful contribution

• Where leadership steps in, when stepping back would actually move things forward

High-performing leaders encourage strong talent to question the systems they inherited, even the ones that once worked well, then simplify decision flow so ideas can flow and influence. They remove unnecessary steps instead of layering unnecessary oversight, and they create space for testing and refinement, knowing that good ideas rarely arrive fully formed.

They also invite challenge and stay in those conversations long enough for something better to emerge. This is where alignment actually develops, through people engaging with each other’s thinking and circling back to a shared understanding of what matters. The role of the leader starts to shift as they spend less time evaluating individuals and more time seeing their team as part of a system that is producing the results they’re getting. When different results are needed, the system itself must evolve.

If the environment isn’t set up to leverage the thinking, experience, and judgment of the new people you’ve hired, you aren’t fully leveraging the investment you’ve made in that talent, and you end up carrying the cost of capability without getting the benefit of it, which is a frustrating place to sit when you know how much potential is there.

So if you’ve raised the bar on talent and you're not seeing the lift you expected, look at the system, because that’s where the real leverage sits. If the airspace feels crowded and slow, don’t coach the pilots to fly harder; upgrade the system of signals, communications, and flight paths so air traffic can move efficiently.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Set aside 30 minutes this week and take a close look at how work actually moves through your team. Think of your team like a busy airspace. Your goal isn’t to fly every plane. It’s to make the routes, signals, and handoffs clear so everything moves without circling.

Choose one recent decision or project that felt slower or heavier than it should have, then write out how it unfolded step by step, noticing where it paused, where it looped, and where it required rework.

Then reflect on the following questions in a single sitting so you can see the full pattern rather than isolated moments.

1. Where did the system make this harder than it needed to be?

2. Where did I step in, and what impact did that have?

3. Where did someone hold back when they could have pushed forward?

4. What would’ve needed to be different for this to move with more clarity and pace?

You aren’t trying to fix everything in one sitting. You’re experimenting with looking for what’s slowing things down, and once you see it, you can clear the path. That’s how you keep the airspace moving the way it should, to create real lift for your rock stars.

If you notice this pattern in your own team, reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

FEEDBACK ISN’T YOUR PROBLEM (But Your Relationship to Feedback Might Be)

By Leslie Rohonczy, IMC™, PCC

Executive Coach | Leadership Development Expert | Author | Speaker | ©2026 | www.leslierohonczy.com

(LISTEN TO NARRATED AUDIOARTICLE VERSION)

Most leaders believe they’re open to feedback… right up until the moment they hear something they don’t like. But it’s what happens next that reveals our relationship to it.

I remember sitting across from a senior leader who told me he was "very open to feedback". He wasn’t posturing; he meant it. He regularly asked for input, encouraged it, and even thanked people for it. Technically, he was doing all the right things, right up until that critical moment.

His peer offered him feedback about a client meeting they attended together. Within seconds of hearing her observations, he stepped in with all the context: a bit of background, a quick clarification, a touch of justification, a hint of over-explaining, even a suggestion that she had misread his intentions; then a gentle repositioning of what he meant versus what actually happened. It was a lot. He was articulate, calm, and had been completely effective at shutting the whole thing down. His peer didn't argue or push back, and the conversation just wrapped itself up. From his perspective, it was a good exchange. From hers, it wasn’t worth pushing any further - or doing in the future.

This is where the real issue lies: we each have our own special relationship to feedback, a unique pattern of reactions that show up in the first few seconds after we hear it. That relationship determines whether the conversation opens up or closes down. While we’re looking for clear, useful input, our team and colleagues are asking themselves how much of this is actually safe to say.

Amy Edmondson’s research at Harvard Business School has shown that when people sense even a small interpersonal risk, they adjust by softening their message, rounding off the edges, and removing the parts that might upset or land poorly. The feedback doesn’t disappear, but it loses its teeth, sometimes becoming so neutral and mushy that it's unrecognizable - and unusable as a result.

There’s another layer that shows up before feedback is even given: the way most leaders ask for feedback makes it harder to offer anything useful. “Is there anything I could do differently?” sounds generous, but it leaves the other person with too much space and not enough direction. The brain stalls. There’s nothing concrete to grab onto.

Now compare that to, “What’s one thing I could do differently in our next client meeting?” That question gives the other person somewhere to start. It’s specific, focused, and much easier to answer. This small shift can create a big difference.

Now layer that with what happens after the feedback lands, because this is where our relationship to feedback shows up in full colour. We rarely receive feedback as 'neutral data'. Most often, we see it as someone's interpretation of something they saw us say or do. It brushes up against our identity, competence, and reputation, and it pokes the part of us that wants to be seen as credible, valued, and in control. That means we're not just hearing the feedback; we're reacting to what we think it says about us as a person.

Our brains are wired to react fast. Research in social neuroscience by Matthew Lieberman at UCLA shows that perceived social threats, including criticism, can activate the same neural pathways as physical pain. Think about that: our brains interpret both as pain! So the urge to explain, clarify, or straighten the record isn’t a personality flaw; it's a hard-wired reflex. The issue shows up when we're not aware that the reflex has taken us over.

Our teams watch those micro-moments closely. They notice how long we stay with a hard comment, whether we get curious or defensive, and whether the conversation opens up or closes down. Over time, they adjust and bring us the version of feedback that keeps things moving, avoids friction, and sounds useful without creating risk.

And just like that, our access to deeper insights about ourselves narrows. Meetings still happen, conversations still feel productive, and we still believe we’re open to feedback. We just don’t realize how much of it never makes it to us.

Think about the last time someone offered you feedback. What did you do in the first few seconds after you heard it? Was there something that didn’t sit well? Was your instinct to move to resolve it? Did you stay open and curious with it? Did you explain? Did you have the urge to tidy the moment, or did you let it breathe? These are some common reactions to feedback in the moment. What's yours typically?

One leader I worked with ran a simple experiment. Every time he received feedback, he had to ask one more question about their observation. Not a deep dive series of questions that would feel like an interrogation, just one genuine question intended to help him understand what the other person was seeing. At first, it felt awkward and slower than his usual pace, and he worried it made him look unsure.

What actually happened was different. People started giving more details without being asked, offering examples, and staying in genuine conversation longer. The feedback became sharper and more useful because his stance in the moment had changed.

This is where stance matters. In feedback conversations, our job as the receiver is simple (but not easy): receive the feedback, thank the person for offering it, ask a clarifying question if something isn’t clear, and then reflect. Not defend; not explain; reflect. That reflection is where we close blind spots and gaps we can’t see on our own, and it’s the part most of us skip because it can be uncomfortable.

Nothing about the feedback itself had changed. His relationship to it had. We don’t need to agree with every piece of feedback we receive, and we don’t need to suppress our reactions. We do need to notice them and resist acting on them too quickly. Staying in the moment a little longer and asking a genuine question changes what becomes available to us. It also changes how people experience us, and that ultimately determines whether they will tell us what we need to hear.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Think about the last piece of feedback that stayed with you; the one that lingered, and felt genuinely uncomfortable. What happened in your head in the first few seconds?

Now imagine that moment again, but this time, you take on a deliberate stance as the receiver.

First, receive it fully. No interruption, no correction, no facial gymnastics. Just take it in without judgment or defense.

Second, acknowledge the person. Not just a quick “thanks,” but a genuine appreciation for both the perspective and the courage it took to offer it. Feedback, especially upward or sideways, feels risky. When we recognize that, we create the psychological safety for honesty in the future.

Third, get curious. Ask one question that helps you understand what they saw, heard, or experienced. Stay out of defending your intent and lean into understanding their reality. For example: “Can you say a bit more about what you noticed in that moment?” or “What impact did that have for you?”

Then, thank them for their feedback.

Lastly, and this is the part most people miss: reflect. Take time after the conversation to sit with it. Consider what might be true, even if it’s only partially true. Look for patterns, examples, and evidence of what others might be seeing that you’re not.

Reflect on these questions:

• What part of this feedback felt most uncomfortable, and why?

• What story did I start telling myself about what this means about me?

• What pieces might be valid here, even if I don’t fully agree?

• Where have I seen a version of this before?

• If I took this seriously, what would I experiment with doing differently?

After your reflection, take some time to close the loop. Let the person know what you took from the conversation and what you’re thinking about doing with their feedback. This builds trust and reinforces that their voice matters.

Try this once this week. Not perfectly, just deliberately. That’s where the shift starts.

If this surfaced a blind spot, or you want to deepen your relationship to feedback, reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

LACK OF PRODUCTIVE CONFLICT IS A WARNING SIGNAL: How Politeness Culture Filters Out the Truth

By Leslie Rohonczy, IMC™, PCC

Executive Coach | Leadership Development Expert | Author | Speaker | ©2026 | www.leslierohonczy.com

(LISTEN TO THE AUDIOARTICLE VERSION)

You’ve likely been in this meeting (and if you’re honest, you may have even been running it). You lay out a direction, walk the group through your thinking, and open the floor. A few people nod as you speak. Someone says 'It makes sense'. Another adds that they are on board and ready to move forward. The tone is smooth, the discussion feels easy, and nothing in the room signals friction. You leave that conversation reassured that you have alignment.

A few weeks later, the energy is different. The work is moving, but not with any real momentum. You find yourself stepping in more than expected, answering questions that shouldn't need your input, and wondering why something that seemed so clear is not gaining traction.

This is usually the point where leaders turn their attention to execution. They start tightening timelines, increasing check-ins, and stepping in more frequently to keep things moving. It feels like a delivery problem that needs more oversight or clearer direction.

But the breakdown did not start in the execution phase. It started earlier, in the meeting itself, when alignment appeared to be present but was never fully established. What looked like agreement, wasn't; it was a group of people making a rapid, often unconscious decision about how to respond in that moment. For some, it may have been about protecting the relationship. For others, it was about not slowing things down, not wanting to challenge too early, or not being certain their perspective would add value. And for some, it was simply easier to agree in the moment and revisit it later, even if that conversation never actually happened.

If this sounds familiar, you're in good company. In Canadian workplaces, politeness shapes how people respond in real time, especially when they are unsure how their input will land. It influences what gets said, how it is said, and in many cases, whether it even gets said at all.

Over time, that creates a gap between what is expressed in the room and what people are actually thinking. Leaders hear support. Teams experience something more complicated.

I recently coached a senior leader who couldn't understand why his teams weren't giving him honest feedback, or bringing forward stronger ideas to challenge the status quo. He had been very clear that he wanted input. He said it often, and he meant it. From his perspective, the invitation was wide open.

From his team’s perspective, they saw it differently. He moved quickly in meetings and responded to ideas as they were raised. He tended to build on what he liked and move past what he did not, often without much pause. He also closed discussions as soon as he felt he had enough to make a decision (which happened faster than he realized). None of his behaviour was aggressive or dismissive; it was just how he liked to operate.

In these conditions he'd created, his team had stopped testing ideas that were not fully formed. They held back perspectives that might have slowed the conversation down. They paid attention to where he seemed to be leaning and aligned themselves accordingly. The meetings stayed smooth, the tone stayed positive, and the appearance of agreement remained intact.

From the outside, the issue is easy to spot. From the inside, it is almost invisible. They were operating within it, shaped by it, adapting to it in real time, like fish that have no awareness of the water they're swimming in. People were no longer bringing their full thinking into the room. They were participating, but in a narrower way; contributing, but without the same level of ownership. They were staying engaged enough to keep things moving while gradually pulling back from conversations that held greater risk.

That shift is easy to miss because it does not create obvious disruption. There are no raised voices, no visible conflict, and no obvious signs that something is wrong. Everything continues to look professional and well-managed.

The cost shows up later, when decisions move forward without the benefit of a broader perspective. Execution starts to stall. Leaders find themselves carrying more of the load than they expected, stepping in to clarify, reinforce, and push things along.

At that point, it is tempting to question commitment, engagement, or capability. More often, the issue is access. Access to what people are actually seeing, thinking, and questioning. Access to the ideas that stayed in someone’s head because the moment did not feel right to share it. Access to the concerns that were softened beyond being recognizable, or left unsaid altogether. When that access narrows, the quality of thinking narrows with it.

This matters even more in the current environment. Canadian organizations are operating with tighter margins, higher expectations, and less room for missteps. Leaders need people who are willing to engage fully, especially when the path forward is not obvious. Politeness, when it goes unchecked, can work against that.

So the question shifts. Instead of wondering why people are not speaking up, it would be more useful to ask what they are responding to in how you lead. Your behaviour sets the conditions for how far others are willing to go. When you jump in within seconds of someone speaking, wrap a discussion before others have weighed in, or signal a preferred direction through your tone or follow-up questions, people notice. They constantly read your pace, your reactions, and your follow-through.

They notice how quickly you respond to ideas and which ones you stay with. They notice whether a differing perspective changes anything or simply gets set aside. They notice how much space there is to think before the conversation moves on.

These signals shape participation far more than any verbal invitation. When people see that their input can influence direction, they lean in. When they don't see that connection, they conserve their effort and contribute in more predictable ways that feel safer. And those conversations, while they may be easier to manage, are ultimately less useful.

Leaders who want stronger engagement often focus on saying the right things: asking for feedback, inviting challenge, and reinforcing candour and openness. Those behaviours matter, of course, but they're not the deciding factor. People are looking for evidence: for moments where input changes the course of a discussion; for signs that it'll be worth the effort to bring forward something that may not land perfectly; for a reason to believe that speaking up will make a difference. That evidence is created in how you handle the conversation, not in how you frame the invitation.

When that evidence is present, you experience a shift. Conversations deepen, and people stay in the discussion longer. When it is not present, politeness fills that space and limits what is shared. Over time, that creates distance between what leaders hear and what their teams are actually thinking. And that distance is where disengagement grows.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Think about a recent meeting where agreement came quickly; the kind of moment where everyone nodded, and you moved on without resistance.

In your next meeting, when that moment happens again, do something different: Pause the conversation and say, “Before we move on, I want to test something with you. What are we not saying right now?” Then stop talking. Hold the silence. Let the squirmy discomfort show up. Do not rescue the moment, and do not soften the question. This can be harder than it sounds, especially if we're used to a faster pace to a solution.

When someone offers a partial answer, stay with it longer than you normally would. Ask them what else they were considering but chose not to say. Let the room see that 'first layer thinking' isn't enough.

If nothing comes, name that too. Say what you are observing about the speed of agreement, and your curiosity about what might be underneath it.

After the meeting, reflect on what shifted; not just in what was said, but in how the room responded when you disrupted the well-worn pattern. That is where you start to regain access to what is actually in the room.

If you're starting to wonder what's going unsaid in your leadership meetings, that's a conversation worth having. Reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

YOU’VE MADE YOURSELF THE SYSTEM: The Ego Payoff of Control

By Leslie Rohonczy, IMC™, PCC

Executive Coach | Leadership Development Expert | Author | Speaker | ©2026 | www.leslierohonczy.com

(LISTEN TO THE NARRATED VERSION)

 Leaders, have you ever had that moment where you pause, look around, and realize, “It’s all on me”…? You’re involved in everything, every decision, every escalation, every aspect of the work from strategy to execution. You send late-night messages that start with “Hey, quick question...” You carry the weight, you solve the problems, and you keep the whole machine running.

But if you listen closely, underneath what can start to feel like a kind of performative martyrdom, you might notice a sense of pride in being the one who holds it all together; the one who’s central, necessary, irreplaceable.

We don’t typically acknowledge this uncomfortable fact; hell, we’re often not even aware that it’s what’s driving us. Others might look at us and think, “Wow, that’s commitment.” But from the inside, it’s something deeper. Think about it: if it’s truly all on you, then either the system is broken, or you’ve made yourself the system.

IT FEELS LIKE LEADERSHIP, BUT...

So many of the leaders I coach tell me they haven’t been able to get away for a real break. There’s always something too important, too fragile, or too dependent on them.

The one that really stays with me was a woman who hadn’t taken a proper vacation in nine years. Her team leaned on her constantly, she was the implicit leader of her peer group, and her actual leader repeatedly rewarded her for being “indispensable.”

Nine years without a real break. In one session, after walking through yet another week of being pulled into everything, I asked her: "What do you get out of being needed like this?" She paused for a long time before answering, then she said, “I know that I matter.” Oof! Right in the feels!

It took real courage to say it out loud, to see how something in her was driving her behaviour, and even her identity.

THE SECRET PAYOFF

When you've set up the system so that everything must run through you, you receive constant reinforcement as the one who people turn to, the one who knows what’s going on, and the one who can fix things when they break. That creates a powerful internal reward that goes far beyond external validation.

Behavioural psychology says that we repeat behaviours that are rewarded, especially when the reward is tied to how we see ourselves. The feeling of being relevant, necessary, and relied upon isn’t trivial. It anchors identity.

So when a leader says "I need to delegate more", but then doesn’t follow through, I don’t assume it's a skill gap. I get curious, and invite them to get curious along with me, about the payoff they haven’t named yet. More often than not, that payoff is about keeping them at the center of a system that needs them to function, and reinforcing the belief that they need to stay at the center to remain relevant. It’s as if they believe they won't matter if they’re not involved in every decision and every thread, which helps to explain why letting go feels risky and why control feels so important to them.

CONTROL DISGUISED AS COMMITMENT

Now that we're digging deep, here’s another layer that’s even harder to see: carrying everything is about control. If work runs through you, you can see it, shape it, and intervene before it goes sideways. That reduces uncertainty, which matters more than most of us are willing to admit.

And the pattern reinforces and amplifies itself over time. You stay involved to reduce risk, your team stays dependent because you’re involved, and you feel even more responsible because they depend on you. Eventually, this stops being a leadership approach and becomes a closed system in the exact shape of you, with everything designed to run through you.

THE EGO TRAP

There’s a sharper edge to this that’s worth naming. Believing that it’s all up to you can carry a subtle (sometimes not-so-subtle) form of ego-centricity. It’s not just that you believe it, it’s that you’ve positioned yourself as the center through which everything has to move. Maybe it wasn’t intentional, and it may not look like arrogance in the obvious sense, but there’s a deeply held belief that things won’t function without you at the center.

It sounds responsible and committed, but when leaders place themselves at the center of every outcome, and hold that belief, even unconsciously, it will crowd out the capability of others. There’s little room for different approaches or shared ownership. Over time, it sends a message to the team that says, “I’ve got this...,” which people eventually hear as, “...and that's because I think you don’t.” It's not your intention, of course, but that's the impact nonetheless.

One of the reasons this pattern is so hard to shift is because it’s tied to how leaders see their relevance, their role, their value, and their responsibility.

STAND DOWN, HERO

Many leaders built their careers on being the person who steps in and saves the day, because they see problems faster than others, connect the dots, and move things forward. That ability is often rewarded early and often. Then they get promoted, and the rules change.

At more senior levels, the role is no longer to be the hero. The role is to build a team that doesn’t need one. And that shift is far more difficult than it sounds, because it requires us to let things wobble, to watch others struggle, and to resist stepping in when we can clearly see the answer.

For a leader whose identity is built on being capable and reliable, that can feel like negligence rather than growth. So they keep stepping in, and over time, they find themselves carrying more than they can sustain.

HIDDEN COSTS

This pattern doesn’t just lead to burnout. When everything runs through you, your team stops thinking at the same level. It doesn't just feel like everything runs through you; it actually does. Decisions bottleneck, ownership becomes unclear, and frustration builds. You begin to feel like you’re carrying people, while they begin to feel that they aren’t trusted.

There’s also a structural limit that shows up over time. As your role becomes more complex, your capacity won’t scale if you stay the central hub for everything. You don’t just feel like a bottleneck, you become one, even though your intention is to support the system. Here's a marker for a high-performing leader: they can step away for a good stretch (say the length of a proper vacation), and the team still functions well and achieves their objectives. If performance drops because decisions stall or everything waits for you, you know the system is built around you. And at senior levels, that doesn’t just create strain, it caps your career trajectory, because leaders who can’t step out without things slowing down or collapsing are difficult to move up.

Some leaders don’t fully want to let go of this pattern because it serves something important: it reinforces identity, creates a sense of value, and offers a level of control that feels stabilizing.

If that pattern were to change, a different question would emerge: If you’re not the one holding everything together, then who are you as a leader?

SHIFTING THE ROLE

Leaders who move through this don’t suddenly disengage. They become more deliberate about where they show up and why. The work isn’t just to take things off their plate; it’s to redesign the system so it doesn’t rely on them in the same way.

And a powerful upside: when you step back in the right places, your people step forward. They make decisions, test ideas, and start to question “the way we do it here” instead of waiting for your answer or permission. That’s where capability actually grows, not in perfectly executed instructions, but in imperfect attempts they own. If everything continues to run through you, your team adapts by bringing problems, not proposals, and waiting to be told rather than thinking it through. When you shift your role, you change that pattern and create space for judgment and challenge, and for different ways of doing things to emerge.

They begin to ask themselves more precise questions like, "What truly requires my involvement?" "Where am I stepping in out of habit rather than necessity?" "What am I preventing my team from learning?"

They also develop something that doesn’t get talked about enough in leadership development: tolerance. Tolerance for ambiguity, for imperfect execution, and for outcomes that don’t match exactly how they would have done it. Tolerance (what some might call grace) is what allows leadership to scale beyond the limits of one person.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Take a clear look at your current load, not just what you’re carrying, but how it got there. Approach this as an intentional practice, not a quick reflection.

STEP 1: MAP YOUR CURRENT LOAD Write down the key decisions, problems, and responsibilities that regularly flow through you.

STEP 2: IDENTIFY THE PATTERN For each item, ask yourself: Where does this genuinely require my involvement? Where am I stepping in because it feels uncomfortable not to? What do I get, emotionally, from being the one who carries this?

STEP 3: NAME THE PAYOFF Be honest here. What does being needed give you? Relevance, control, certainty, recognition? If you don’t name it, you can’t shift it.

STEP 4: EXPERIMENT WITH PULLING BACK Choose one or two areas where you can intentionally step back by about ten percent. Be specific about what you will stop doing, delay, or redirect.

STEP 5: BUILD TOLERANCE As you step back, notice what shows up. Discomfort, anxiety, the urge to jump back in. Don’t fix it immediately. Stay with it. This is where the real work is.

STEP 6: OBSERVE THE SYSTEM Watch what happens when you’re not in the middle. Do others step forward? Do things wobble? Do new ideas emerge? This is data, not a verdict.

The goal of this practice isn’t perfection. It’s awareness and experimentation. What you notice here will tell you more about your leadership than any framework ever will.

And if you want to make some leadership shifts in a practical, grounded way, reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

IS THIS YOUR 'TRAPEZE MOMENT'? Release the Death Grip On Your Current Bar

By Leslie Rohonczy, IMC™, PCC

Executive Coach | Leadership Development Expert | Author | Speaker | ©2026 | www.leslierohonczy.com

Most of us can picture the glamour and excitement of a trapeze act: the elegant swing, the release and heart-pounding flight through the air, the satisfying grab onto the new trapeze bar, followed by thundering applause. But hold the phone… what about that awkward, slightly terrifying bit in between? The part where the flyer has released their grip on the trapeze bar and, for what feels like forever, is suspended in open air with no connection to anything solid. It’s a hold-your-breath, hope-your-timing-is-good, please-let-this-work kind of moment.

It can feel safer to keep swinging on the same bar we already know. Real change shows up in that split second when we decide to let go and hurtle through the air toward something we can’t yet grab.

If we’ve ever found ourselves staring at our work and thinking, “I can’t keep doing this,” while also having no tidy answer for what comes next, we’re likely there. It doesn’t arrive with fireworks or a perfectly drafted resignation letter. It tends to show up in far less cinematic ways, more like a persistent signal that something no longer fits, like a favourite jacket that used to fit perfectly and now sits just a bit off, no matter how many times we try to adjust it.

WHEN EVERYTHING LOOKS FINE BUT ISN'T

I was coaching a leader recently who had built a strong and credible career over many years. If we were looking for someone who was steady, thoughtful, dependable, respected, capable, and a great people person, he’d be at the top of the list.

From the outside, everything looked… fine. Solid, even. No crisis to solve; no burning platform. No one tapping him on the shoulder saying, “You know what, now would be a great time to blow all this up and see what happens.”

Internally, though, the story was different. He knew, deep down in that ‘knowing place’ we all have, that he needed a change. But the problem was that he couldn’t clearly articulate what he wanted next. There was no neat plan or polished narrative about a bold new chapter. What he did have was a growing awareness that his current situation no longer fit him in the way it once had, and that awareness was only going to become more inconvenient and uncomfortable. So he stayed, gripping tightly to something that had stopped feeling right.

We tend to celebrate decisive moves, promotions, and bold pivots that look great in hindsight. We applaud the hero’s journey once the arc is clear and the ending makes sense. What we tend to skip over is the long, ambiguous stretch in between, when we know it’s time for something different but can’t yet name what that something is without sounding like we’re just making sh*t up as we go.

For many of us, when we find ourselves in that space, we do what we’ve always done well: we use our big brains to analyze and rationalize, believing that we can think our way out of our discomfort. We reflect, analyze, crunch the data, gather perspectives, read articles like this one, and generate insight after insight. It feels productive, and to be fair, it can be helpful as a starting point, but it isn’t a plan of action. Then we pause, often for reasons that sound responsible and strategic in the moment. We wait for a clearer signal, collect a bit more data, and tell ourselves timing matters. All of that can be true, and it also gives us a very comfortable place to remain when things feel uncertain.

Over time, a pattern starts to take shape. Insight leads to hesitation. Hesitation leads to retreat. Retreat leads back to reflection. Around and around we go, often with more sophisticated language each time and less actual movement.

INSIGHT IS CHEAP. EMBODIMENT IS EXPENSIVE

Insight is cheap. Acting on it is what costs us the most, in time, resources, energy, and focus. Think about it this way: we can generate insight by having a conversation, writing a journal entry, or taking a reflective moment to process. These insight-generation acts give us language, perspective, and the sense that we’re getting somewhere, and bonus, it doesn’t require us to change anything yet. What costs us is the moment we decide to act on what we already know to be true.

It might show up as saying the thing we’ve been rehearsing in our heads for months, stepping away from a role we’ve outgrown, or loosening our grip on an identity that no longer fits. These are familiar comforts, and they keep our hands firmly wrapped around the current trapeze bar. And this is where we tend to stall, not because we don’t understand what’s happening, but because acting on that understanding has consequences.

THE MYTH OF READINESS

There’s a psychological layer worth naming. Research in behavioural economics, including the work of Daniel Kahneman, shows that we experience potential losses more strongly than equivalent gains. Leaving a familiar role or identity can feel like a real loss, even though it doesn't fit anymore, and even when we can see the possibility of a new trapeze bar dangling up ahead. From that perspective, staying can feel entirely reasonable. It will also keep us exactly where we are.

Then readiness enters the picture. We assume that at some point in the future, we’ll feel clear, certain, and fully prepared to make a big move. In practice, that feeling rarely shows up in advance. More often, we move first, and then tell ourselves, “I guess I was ready after all.” At the time, it feels more like uncertainty, discomfort, and a slightly unsettling level of exposure, paired with a decision to move anyway.

Which brings us back to the trapeze metaphor, and to a line from a song I wrote called Trapeze, inspired by this exact moment:

Reaching out into the mist you close your eyes

That’s when you discover you can fly

 That’s the reality of it. We don’t reach the next bar by stretching harder while holding on to our current one. The transition becomes possible when we release our grip, even though the next bar isn’t yet in our hands.

THE COST OF STAYING

First, let's look at what we are holding onto. Maybe it's a role that we’ve mastered, a reputation we’ve earned, or an identity that’s been reinforced over years. All that effort, discipline, and contribution we put in over time is precisely what can take up the exact space we'll need to reach for something new. The longer we hold the old bar, the harder it becomes to loosen our grip and engage with what comes next; not because the opportunity disappears, but because our hands are already full.

When clarity is missing, we often try to create it before we move, as if the perfect plan will make everything obvious. In moments like this, honesty tends to be more useful. Honesty about what no longer fits, even if we can’t yet name what would fit better. Honesty about what we’re tolerating, and why. Honesty about what we’re concerned about losing if we let go. Honesty about that whisper of yearning for something different for ourselves.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Find a quiet place where you won't be disturbed for about 20 minutes. Take a few deep breaths, allow yourself to relax, and fully arrive to this practice.

Listen to the recording of Trapeze here: https://youtu.be/6q_4Tj4nbqg (you can follow along with the lyrics below the video.)

Now consider your own career and what might be calling you toward a new bar. Answer the following questions in your journal:

• Where are you feeling that pull of something that’s asking more of you right now, even if it’s not fully formed?

• What has started to feel too small, too tight, or simply no longer yours?

• When you imagine letting go, what part of that feels energizing, and what part of that feels uncertain or exposed?

• What are you holding onto that still works, and what does it give you that makes it hard to release?

• And what could you loosen your grip on (not necessarily a total release), that could help you take a first step in that direction?

If you're experiencing this in-between moment, or are hurtling through that untethered space between bars, this is exactly the kind of transition I can help you navigate in executive coaching. If you'd like to build your capacity to leap while things are still unfolding, reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

WHAT’S DRIVING YOUR STRIVING? The High Cost of Relentless Achievement

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The first few years of my adult life were the striving years. I worked hard... very hard. I chased credentials, opportunities, accomplishments, experiences, titles, recognition. If there was a ladder nearby, I was halfway up it. If there wasn’t, I would build one.

From the outside, it looked like I was productive, ambitious, and disciplined; the kind of person that people describe as 'driven,' and in some ways, that was accurate. I had energy, curiosity, and a willingness to work hard.

Inside, though, something else was going on. Beneath the ambition was a voice that I hadn’t yet learned to question. It carried a simple message that kept showing up in my thinking: 'you’re not enough'. That belief became the fuel behind my striving behaviour, even though I didn’t recognize it at the time.

Striving became the strategy I used to soothe the 'not good enough' feelings. Adding another achievement felt like a solution. Another milestone appeared, then another goal reached, and surely the next one would finally be the moment when I felt capable, complete, and secure. But that imagined moment of relief never quite materialized, and the finish line just seemed to push further away every time I got close to it.

Some high performers recognize this pattern once they slow down long enough to examine it, because what appears to be ambition on the surface is often something quite different underneath.

THE STRIVING TRAP

There's no doubt that ambition can be healthy. It can push us to learn, create, contribute, and improve. It’s often fueled by curiosity and purpose, and it can produce remarkable outcomes when it’s aligned with meaning.

Striving, however, is often fueled by something else entirely: fear. It could be fear of failure, fear of being exposed, and fear of not measuring up to some invisible standard that lives inside our heads. And sometimes the driver runs even deeper: a belief formed long ago that our worth can only be earned through achievement. I had an executive coaching client who uncovered the limiting belief that if she wasn't working herself to the point of exhaustion, she didn't deserve to relax or be joyful. What she eventually realized was that her exhaustion wasn’t the problem; it was the proof that, as long as she was depleted, she had earned the right to feel okay about herself. The exhaustion wasn’t just about the work anymore; it had become the evidence of her worth.

Researcher Brené Brown has written extensively about the relationship between shame, worthiness, and perfectionism. She describes perfectionism not as a healthy pursuit of excellence, but as a strategy people use to avoid criticism and judgment. In that sense, perfectionism isn’t really about doing great work. It’s about protecting ourselves from feeling inadequate. And that's an incredibly important distinction.

THE INVISIBLE DRIVERS OF RELENTLESS ACHIEVEMENT

Over the years, I’ve coached hundreds of leaders, many operating at the highest levels of their organizations. From the outside, these leaders often appear confident, accomplished, and highly capable. Their colleagues admire them, their teams rely on them, and their organizations reward them.

Once the coaching conversation begins, however, the internal story often begins to emerge, and a more complicated picture comes into view. Some leaders grew up in families where achievement was the price of approval. Others learned early that praise appeared mainly when they performed well. Some internalized the message that being valuable meant being exceptional. These experiences don’t disappear when someone becomes an executive. They simply follow them into the boardroom.

Those early lessons become powerful internal engines. Add perfectionism into the mix, and you get a drive that rarely switches off. The leader becomes productive, respected, and admired. At the same time, the internal experience can feel like a treadmill that keeps accelerating.

I came across some interesting research about the distinction between work engagement and workaholism (Wilmar Schaufeli & Arnold Bakker, 2008; Clark, Michel, Zhdanova, Pui, & Baltes, 2016), which shows that when people are driven by internal pressure rather than genuine engagement with their work, the long-term results are often less positive than expected. Studies examining compulsive work patterns have linked them to emotional exhaustion, stress, and reduced well-being, even among highly successful professionals.

In other words, relentless achievement carries a hidden cost that leaders only begin to see once they pause long enough to examine the forces driving their striving behaviour.

WHEN SUCCESS DOESN’T FEEL LIKE SUCCESS

One of the most revealing moments in coaching often happens after a major success; perhaps a promotion, a major project delivered, or a milestone that took years to reach.

We would expect to feel a level of achievement or celebration. What some leaders feel instead is relief. That reaction can feel surprising, yet what happens in that moment is that the internal critic finally goes silent. We proved something. We cleared the bar that had been looming over us. Then, before long, the voice returns and introduces the next challenge, asking the inevitable question that follows on the heels of every achievement: what comes next?

This is one of the clearest signs that striving is being driven by insecurity. The finish line keeps moving. Not because we lack discipline or ambition, but because the real goal was never the achievement itself. The real goal was feeling worthy, and no external accomplishment can permanently answer that question.

AMBITION WITH AWARENESS

Many remarkable things in the world have been built by ambitious people. Innovation, progress, and creativity often come from individuals who are willing to pursue bold ideas and difficult goals. The important distinction lies in the motivation behind the drive, because the source of that motivation determines whether ambition expands possibility or ultimately traps a leader on a moving treadmill of achievement.

Ambition says that we want to build something meaningful or explore what’s possible. Striving, driven by insecurity, says that we need to prove something about ourselves so that we can feel acceptable. Ambition expands possibility. Striving often narrows it.

When we begin examining our internal drivers, something interesting happens. We don’t lose our drive. In some cases, the opposite happens, and the drive becomes more powerful because it’s no longer fueled by pressure or fear. Instead, it starts drawing energy from curiosity, contribution, and purpose. The engine remains strong, but the fuel source changes.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Today's challenge requires about 20 minutes of reflection, so grab your journal and favorite pen, and find a quiet place where you can relax into this practice. Take a moment to reflect on your own striving tendencies, and allow yourself to be genuinely curious about what might be driving it.

Step 1: Identify a current goal. Choose something you're actively pursuing right now. Perhaps it's a promotion, a project, a business milestone, or a personal achievement that really matters to you.

Step 2: Examine the emotional energy behind that goal. Ask yourself what is truly motivating it. Notice whether the energy feels expansive, such as curiosity, purpose, contribution, or the excitement of building something meaningful.

Step 3: Look for a second layer of motivation beneath this. Ask yourself whether any part of the drive is connected to proving something about your worth, gaining approval, avoiding criticism, or quieting an internal voice that says you are not yet enough.

Step 4: Step back, review, and discover themes. Many leaders notice that their motivation contains more than one driver, and simply seeing those drivers clearly is often the beginning of greater freedom and choice.

Step 5: Use your new awareness to guide your choices. What adjustments might bring your striving back into alignment with the future you want to create? If the goal is fueled mostly by purpose and curiosity, then pursue it with renewed energy. But if you notice that insecurity or the need for approval is doing most of the driving, how could you approach the goal differently? What healthier boundaries do you need? How would you redefine success? What is the deeper reason this goal matters so much to you?

Ambition and insecurity often travel together, and recognizing that mixture is part of becoming a more conscious leader. There is no judgment required in that realization. Human beings are complex, and the forces that shape our drive rarely come from a single source.

What matters is awareness. When we understand the true engine behind our striving, we gain the freedom to decide whether that driver is still serving the future we want to create, or whether it is simply repeating an old story about our worth. 

That moment of clarity is often where the real shift begins. Striving doesn't disappear, but it becomes more intentional, more grounded, and more aligned with the life and leadership we actually want to build.

Reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

SURROUNDED BY IDIOTS: Avoiding The Trap of Similarity Bias

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Be honest. Who’s the person at work who makes you think, “How did you get this far without adult supervision?” You have one. I have one. We all have that one colleague. The one who overthinks everything and wants a subcommittee to review the subcommittee’s findings. Or the one who makes a snap decision and moves on without any real data to go on. The one who needs all the data before they can get into motion. The one who says, “I just have a gut feeling” without anything to base it on. The person who wants harmony over addressing the real challenges. Or the one who walks into the meeting and detonates it, just to see what happens.

At some point, if we are courageous enough to admit it, we have all muttered a private version of the phrase popularized by Thomas Erikson in his bestselling book, Surrounded by Idiots. It is a funny title that also reveals something uncomfortable. Most of us have silently nominated someone for that award.

BUT WHAT IF THEY’RE NOT IDIOTS?

Before you write them off as annoying, flawed, or completely out to lunch, consider this: what if they are simply wired differently than you? One of the most important leadership lessons I have learned, and relearned, is this: difference is not deficiency.

In Chapter 4 of Coaching Life, I explore personality types and wiring. Not as labels, and not as excuses, but as lenses. Our wiring shapes how we process information, communicate, make decisions, and interpret behaviour. It influences how quickly we speak, how much detail we need, how much risk we tolerate, and how we respond to tension.

Carl Jung’s early work on psychological types laid the foundation for many modern personality tools. Later models, such as DISC, Insights Discovery, and others, translated those preferences into practical language that leaders could actually use. Daniel Goleman’s work on emotional intelligence expanded the conversation by showing that success in leadership depends less on technical ability and more on self-awareness and relational skill.

And even with all this research available, we still fall into a very human trap. We assume that our way is the right and reasonable way. The grown-up way. The way that should probably be laminated and handed out during onboarding training.

HOW SIMILARITY BIAS BITES US IN THE BUTT

There is strong evidence that we are naturally drawn to people who think and behave like us. Social psychologists call this similarity bias. We trust people who feel familiar, interpret their behaviour more generously, and see their strengths more clearly.

When someone mirrors our pace, tone, or priorities, we experience it as competence. When someone does the opposite, we experience it as friction, or incompetence, or a threat to everything we hold dear.

Think about the people in your life and see if some of these contrasts feel familiar. These are not personality types, just examples of how different wiring can show up at work:

• The analytical leader experiences the fast decision maker as reckless.

• The fast decision maker experiences the analytical leader as paralysing.

• The relationship-focused leader experiences the direct one as abrasive.

• The direct leader experiences the relational one as overly sensitive.

Notice what just happened. In less time than it takes to refill your coffee, we turned a style preference into a personality defect. We moved from wiring difference to moral judgment in seconds. But your irritation is just information. It’s not proof of a character flaw in someone else. It’s just a signal that something about this interaction is rubbing against your own wiring and preferences. It’s your nervous system flashing a small yellow light that says, “This is not how I think, or would do this.”

In Chapter 13 of Coaching Life, I write about relational awareness and the ability to notice not only what is happening between us, but what is happening inside of us, too. When we feel a surge of frustration in a meeting, that reaction is data that tells us something about our preferences. It doesn’t necessarily tell us that there is something wrong with the other person.

DECISION MAKING: WHERE WIRING COLLIDES

It is in the arena of decision-making that we can really see wiring differences in action. Some people process externally by thinking out loud, and we can hear their brain working in real time. They explore possibilities verbally, and silence typically makes them uncomfortable.

Others process internally. They need time to reflect before speaking. Rapid-fire questions or fast-paced discussion feel chaotic and risky. They look calm, which makes the external processors slightly more uncomfortable.

Some of us decide quickly once we recognize a pattern, and we’re comfortable acting with only partial information. Others want to thoroughly examine risk, implications, and downstream impact before committing to action.

There is no inherently superior approach, although each camp is usually convinced that theirs is. Research on cognitive diversity suggests that teams with varied thinking styles can outperform more homogeneous teams, particularly when tackling complex problems. The challenge is not the diversity itself. It is our inability to interpret it without judgment.

Instead of saying, “You move too fast,” we think, “You are careless.” Instead of saying, “You need more time,” we think, “You lack backbone.” When leaders collapse wiring differences into character flaws, it can have a devastating effect on team culture.

EQ IS NOT ABOUT BEING NICE

Emotional intelligence is often misunderstood as simply empathy, warmth, or emotional expression. Those are elements of it, certainly, but they are not the whole picture. At its core, emotional intelligence is a behavioural range. It is the capacity to notice your default wiring and stretch beyond it when the situation requires something else.

If you are naturally direct, can you soften your delivery so that a more relational colleague can hear you? If you are highly relational, can you tolerate a sharper exchange without personalizing it? If you decide quickly, can you slow down long enough to invite dissent or diverse inputs? If you prefer deep analysis, can you act before you feel completely ready?

We can learn to adjust our communication based on who is in the room, without abandoning our authenticity. By expanding our repertoire, we can connect and communicate effectively with everyone on our team, not just the ones who are wired like us. That expansion requires effort that can be uncomfortable, and sometimes even feel threatening.

WHY CHANGE FEELS SO HARD

In Chapter 11, I explore the psychology of change. Our wiring becomes familiar territory because it has served us well. It helped us succeed, after all. So when someone suggests we adjust it, even slightly, it can feel like an attack on our competence. This is where leadership maturity shows up. Can you hold two truths at once? Your wiring is valid, and it is not universal.

You are not wrong for preferring speed, detail, harmony, candour, reflection, action, structure, or improvisation. But when you lead others, your preferences can’t be the only operating system in the room. The leader who refuses to stretch into different communication styles and preferences creates an invisible hierarchy that says: my way equals professional; your way equals problematic. And that can seem quite ego-driven to the people we lead.

The next time someone triggers you, pause. Instead of asking, “What’s wrong with them?” try asking, “What is different about them? What pace do they prefer? How do they process information? What makes them feel secure? What makes them feel pressured?”

You may discover that the person you labelled as difficult is actually providing something your team needs. The cautious analyst may be preventing a costly mistake. The bold decision maker may be preventing stagnation. The relational leader may be building trust in ways you cannot see. Difference is not deficiency; it’s often the thing that brings the most value.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Think of one person at work who typically activates you.

Step 1: Name the irritation clearly.
What exactly do they do that gets under your skin? Is it their pace? Their tone? Their need for detail? Their bluntness? Their hesitancy? Vague irritation is not useful data. Be specific.

Step 2: Decode the wiring beneath the behaviour.
Translate each irritation into a neutral description of their preference. Fast might mean decisive. Slow might mean reflective. Direct might mean candid. Diplomatic might mean attuned to impact. Ask yourself:

• What decision-making style is this?

• How do they appear to process information, externally or internally?

• What might make them feel competent or secure in a discussion?

Step 3: Examine your own bias.
Which of their behaviours clashes most strongly with your default wiring? What does that reveal about your preferences? Where might you be interpreting difference as deficiency?

Step 4: Look for the value.
Where could this style strengthen the team? What risk does it mitigate? What blind spot of yours might it be balancing? In what way are you grateful for this?

Step 5: Choose a deliberate stretch.
Select one small behavioural adjustment for your next interaction. If you move quickly, slow your pace and invite input. If you analyse deeply, commit sooner. If you soften everything, be clearer. If you are blunt, add context. Do not reinvent your personality – expand your range.

Step 6: After the interaction, reflect.

• What shifted in the dynamic?

• How did it shape their reaction?

• What did you learn about them?

• What did you learn about yourself?

RESOURCES FOR EXPLORING PERSONALITY AND WIRING

If this topic intrigues you and you would like to go deeper, there are several credible starting points. These tools are most powerful when used not as labels, but as mirrors, to help us see our patterns, widen our behavioural range, and interpret others with more generosity.

• Thomas Erikson’s Surrounded by Idiots. A popular business book that interprets behavioural differences through a simplified DISC-based lens.

• William Moulton Marston’s DISC theory. The behavioural model that later informed many workplace assessments.

• Insights Discovery. A Jungian-based colour model widely used in organisations to build self-awareness and relational skill.

• The Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. A structured application of Jung’s work that explores preferences in perception and decision-making.

• Daniel Goleman’s Emotional Intelligence. The research that expanded leadership conversations beyond technical competence.

• The Wisdom of the Enneagram, by Don Richard Riso and Russ Hudson. A deeper exploration of motivation, fear, and developmental growth patterns.

• Carl Jung’s Psychological Types. The original foundation for much of modern personality theory.

• Coaching Life: Navigating Life’s Most Common Coaching Topics, by Leslie Rohonczy, available in paperback and audiobook

If you are ready to grow your behavioural range and lead across personality differences with more skill, reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

'ME-FIRST' CULTURE AT WORK: The Demise of ‘WE’ in the Age of ‘ME’

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Last year, I sat in on a senior leadership meeting that felt less like a strategy session and more like an orchestra rehearsal gone wrong. It felt chaotic! Everyone was playing their hearts out, and no one was listening. Each leader came armed with their slides, metrics, updates, entrenched points of view, and well-rehearsed arguments. Every function was defending its priorities. Everyone was articulate, intelligent, passionate, and striving to be 'seen'. There was no shared tempo; no collective score, and no one stepping back to ask, “What is best for the collective? What does the whole need?”

I have been noticing this pattern for years, in coaching sessions, in corporate events, and across media feeds: a steady tilt toward self-protection and self-promotion over shared purpose. Call it ambition if you like, but it feels like something deeper to me. The rise of a “me-first” workplace has been building for a long time.

HOW DID WE GET HERE?

Over the past three decades, Western societies have undergone a measurable shift toward hyper-individualism. Sociologist Robert Putnam wrote about the decline in civic participation and social capital in his book, Bowling Alone, showing how community involvement, from clubs to volunteerism, steadily decreased across North America. The patterns he identified in the 1990s have only intensified.

Journalist Sebastian Junger explored a related theme in his book Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging, which is one of my favourite books about how we are stronger together. Drawing on history, anthropology, and his reporting on war veterans, Junger points out that humans are wired for tight-knit interdependence, and that modern Western society has weakened many of the shared hardships and collective bonds that once gave people a sense of meaning. When belonging erodes, people don't simply become more independent; they often become more anxious, more isolated, and more likely to build their identity around status rather than contribution. That observation has profound implications for workplace culture.

Technology is also reshaping how we construct identity. Sherry Turkle’s work at MIT points to how digital platforms nudge us to 'perform ourselves' rather than fully engage with others authentically. Algorithms reward visibility and amplification. Attention, likes and follows become currency, and we learn to chase it.

Add to this the rise of monetized identity, influencer culture, and personal brand as career insurance in unstable labour markets. LinkedIn profiles become highlight reels, Instagram turns daily life into curated narratives, and the gig economy encourages workers to market themselves continuously. In many Western democracies, competitive market thinking has gradually pushed the language of individual rights to the forefront, with no room for conversations about shared responsibility.

Layer in performance-at-all-costs organizational environments, where individual metrics, dashboards, and promotion systems reward personal achievement far more visibly than collective contribution.

None of these forces are malicious. They evolved gradually, and responded to real economic and technological shifts. But together, they've shifted our centre of gravity. As a culture, we've elevated individual identity above shared responsibility and obligation. We've optimized for recognition over reciprocity, and it's showing up at work.

WHERE THE DRIFT BECOMES VISIBLE

We see this slide into soloist mode appears inside organizations, in leaders who protect their function instead of tending to the enterprise as a whole. Or when personal brand building starts to consume more energy than team building. “Not my job” thinking creeps into conversations. We celebrate the hero who stayed late to save the day, but overlook the disciplined and collective coordination that would have prevented the crisis in the first place. Performance conversations begin to feel like personal threats rather than shared calibration. Visibility edges out contribution, and underneath much of it sits our old pal, anxiety.

Research on social comparison theory by psychologist Leon Festinger, and later extended in contemporary social media studies, shows that constant exposure to curated success increases comparison behaviour. And comparison fuels insecurity, which narrows the focus toward self-protection. When leaders feel perpetually evaluated, they protect reputation. When employees feel constantly compared, they guard status. When attention narrows to self-preservation, collective awareness declines.

Belonging research consistently shows that strong social connection predicts wellbeing and performance. When connection weakens, anxiety increases. And when anxiety increases, collaboration suffers. It becomes a reinforcing loop. More comparison, more self-focus, less collective trust, and more anxiety.

We are social pack animals, and evolutionary psychology is clear on this point. Human survival historically depended on cooperation, shared labour, and mutual protection. “Every person for themselves” has never been a sustainable survival strategy. And yet culturally, here we are.

WHY THIS MATTERS FOR ORGANIZATIONAL PERFORMANCE

If you look at Edelman’s annual Trust Barometer, you’ll see just how shaky institutional trust has become across Western democracies, including here in Canada. Trust is not abstract; it's a performance variable. When trust declines, decision-making slows, innovation drops, and defensive behaviours increase.

McKinsey has done some interesting research using their Organizational Health Index which shows that companies scoring highest on shared direction and collective accountability are significantly more likely to outperform their peers financially.

When leaders optimize for personal recognition over shared outcomes, there are always telltale signs. See if any of these sound familiar: silo protection increases, succession planning weakens, cross-functional friction grows, innovation slows as risk becomes reputational, and burnout rises as individuals feel they must constantly prove their value.

Think back to that leadership meeting that felt like a rehearsal gone wrong. A real orchestra is disciplined, coordinated in their desire to create something collectively, and anchored in a shared purpose. Musicians spend years learning not just how to play, but how to listen. They watch the conductor. They track subtle shifts in dynamics, and soften when another section carries the melody. They know when their role is to lead and when their role is to support. And everyone is playing from the same score.

When that discipline disappears, and each musician pushes for the spotlight, the result is chaotic noise. Volume replaces harmony, timing fractures, and the piece loses its shape. In organizations, the same thing happens in the absence of shared intent and collective restraint. Having a team of strong soloists doesn't create better performance; it creates distortion.

THE CULTURAL WAKE-UP CALL

This 'me-first' culture we're witnessing reflects a broader cultural current that's been building for years. As leaders, we decide which behaviours get reinforced, so if we reward individual heroics over collective stewardship, we accelerate the drift. Corporate incentives tied to individual performance often create counterproductive behaviours, damage relationships and create burnout in their wake. Why would we want to reward the amplification of personal brand more than enterprise contribution?

When we prioritize what is individually visible over what advances a shared objective, we make our values unmistakable: in effect, our metrics and incentives teach people that personal exposure matters more than collective impact. Left unchecked, that lesson becomes the culture.

This reaches far beyond workplace harmony. Organizations that can't coordinate beyond individual ambition struggle and even collapse when conditions tighten. And most leaders I work with can feel that tightening in their bones. The margin for error is thinner, decisions travel faster, and reputational consequences land harder. You can feel it in your calendar, in your inbox, in the pace of change your teams are absorbing. This moment in time demands that we think beyond ourselves and act for the good of the whole.

Prioritizing the collective good is key to institutional resilience, and yet, much of our development energy still tilts toward individual visibility and positioning. Far less attention goes to teaching leaders how to share power, hold tension, or step back so the whole can move forward.

A corporate culture that prizes the soloist over the symphony eventually forgets how to play together. And as complexity accelerates around us, losing that collective capacity carries real consequences for trust and performance. A room full of screeching soloists creates one hell of a cacophonous noise. But beautiful music happens when every player focuses on contributing to the collective whole.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE: 30-MINUTE LEADERSHIP DISCUSSION GUIDE

Share this article with your peers and leader, and put it on the agenda for your next weekly meeting. Use the handy discussion guide below to have a conversation about how this shows up in your organization, and how you might address some of the challenges that come along with it.

Facilitation Guidance
• Allocate 30 minutes for the discussion, and frame it as a curious, blame-free exploration of the topic
• Encourage candour without defensiveness
• Capture patterns and themes, not names

PART 1: OBSERVATION

1. Where do we see “me-first” behaviour inside our own organization?

2. What behaviours are we currently rewarding that may unintentionally reinforce individual over collective thinking?

3. Where do we see personal brand overtaking enterprise stewardship?

PART 2: IMPACT
4. How is this affecting cross-functional trust?
5. Where has anxiety or reputational fear limited collaboration?
6. What is the cost to performance when we protect our own metrics rather than the shared outcome?

PART 3: SELF-EXAMINATION
7. In what ways might I personally be reinforcing individual recognition over shared responsibility?
8. What would it look like for our team to operate more like an orchestra and less like competing soloists?

If you see any of the following behaviours, gently guide participants back to the discussion objectives:

• Leaders defending territory more than strategy

• Reluctance to share credit

• Hesitation to challenge peers for fear of optics

• Metrics optimized locally but not globally

• High visibility, low cohesion

Close the discussion by asking: What is one behaviour we will experiment with and consciously shift over the next quarter, to strengthen the “we”?

If you or your leadership team want help in facilitating these important cultural conversations in your organization, reach out for a free exploratory conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

VISIBILITY IS NOT SELF-PROMOTION: Legible Leadership Presence

(LISTEN TO THE NARRATED AUDIOARTICLE VERSION)

You can be respected, competent, and indispensable, and still be invisible where power and influence are actually shaped. You do great work, deliver on objectives, carry responsibility, and when the strategic conversation shifts, your voice isn’t helping to shape it. Not because you weren’t invited to the table, but because you assumed your contribution would speak loudly enough on its own. Then, when decisions move ahead without your perspective, disappointment lands with a thud.

VISIBILITY IS NOT SELF-PROMOTION

Many leaders carry the limiting belief that seeking better visibility equals ego. It's as if the desire to be seen gets tangled up with the idea of performative posturing, self-promotion, or 'playing the game.' If we value substance, humility, and doing work that actually matters, that association feels off-putting, distasteful, or risky. So we keep our head down and trust that our good work will speak for itself. 

For a long time, that approach worked. It doesn’t anymore. Not because organisations have suddenly lost their values, but because the system has changed. Complexity has increased, decisions move faster, work is more distributed, and influence now depends not just on contribution, but on whether that contribution is visible, understood, and connected to what the organization is trying to do next. Think of visibility not as noise, but as legibility.

WHEN GOOD WORK STAYS INVISIBLE

Most leaders who struggle with building their visibility aren’t disengaged or insecure. They’re often deeply committed, values-driven, humble, and thoughtful about not centering themselves unnecessarily. They don’t want to dominate airtime or oversell. And they definitely don’t want to be mistaken for someone who talks more than they deliver.

So they wait until the work is perfect; until they’re asked; until the moment feels fully earned. And by the time they speak, the conversation has often moved on. This isn’t a personal shortcoming. It’s a mismatch between how leadership actually works now and how we may have been taught it works.

Decades of research in organizational psychology show that decision makers rely heavily on what is accessible in the moment, not on what exists elsewhere in the system. This cognitive shortcut is known as availability bias, and it shapes far more leadership decisions than anyone likes to admit. If your contribution isn’t present where meaning is being made, it doesn’t shape the outcome, no matter how solid it is.

EXECUTIVE PRESENCE IS FELT, NOT PERFORMED

Executive presence is often misunderstood as polish, confidence, or gravitas. Like a jacket you put on, a tone you adopt, or a posture you perfect.

In practice, presence is something other people experience. It’s the sense that you’re here, that you’re tracking what matters, and that you’re willing to offer your thinking into the shared space in service of the work. Presence helps people orient by providing context and making complexity easier to navigate.

While it may feel like restraint or good manners, when leaders pull back in the name of humility, the system doesn’t experience it that way. It experiences them as absent, and that absence has consequences.

THE COST OF BEING UNSEEN

When capable leaders remain unseen, organisations pay a price: decision-making narrows, risks go unnamed, and familiar patterns repeat. Over time, the same voices shape the future, not because they are always right, or even the most insightful, but because they are the most present. This is how organisations end up under-leveraging talent while wondering why innovation feels harder than it should.

It is also how leaders begin to disengage. Being overlooked rarely triggers anger first; it more often creates doubt. You may start questioning whether your perspective is wanted, if your instincts are sound, or if it feels safer to remain in execution than to step into influence.

That internal contraction is easy to miss, but over time, it steadily erodes confidence, connection, and impact.

VISIBILITY AS LEGIBILITY

Here’s the reframe that changes the conversation: visibility isn’t about drawing attention to yourself; it’s about making your thinking, contribution, and intent legible to the system you’re part of, so others can work with it.

By 'legibility', I mean making your thinking visible enough that others can easily understand what you see, what you’re prioritizing and why, and how you’re making sense of the situation. Legibility answers questions people are often already carrying, whether they say them out loud or not. What are you noticing that others may be missing? What do you believe matters most here, and why? How does this decision connect to where the organization is heading? Who will be most impacted and how?

This kind of visibility is about presence, and doesn’t require broadcasting or self-promotion. It requires the willingness to place your perspective into that shared space early enough that it can still shape understanding.

Sometimes that presence shows up as naming a pattern no one else has articulated yet, or as linking today’s decision to a downstream consequence that others haven't considered. Or it can look like offering context that helps the group see the situation more clearly. None of this is about elevating yourself; it’s about stewardship of the work and the system you are responsible for.

THE CANADIAN CONTEXT

There is an additional layer worth naming here. Our Canadian culture is steeped in norms of politeness, humility, and not drawing undue attention to ourselves. Standing out can feel uncomfortable, even suspect. Speaking too directly can feel impolite. Naming one’s contribution can feel uncomfortably close to self-promotion. These instincts, baked into us as Canadians, are cultural strengths that support trust, collaboration, and social cohesion.

The tension shows up when those same instincts mute our leadership voice. Withholding our perspectives in the name of humility, particularly in organizations that rely on consensus and shared decision-making, doesn’t protect the collective; it leaves the group working at a disadvantage, with less information, context, and perspectives.

Think of it this way: visibility is not about individual advancement; it’s about serving the collective intelligence of the group. Making your thinking legible to others helps others orient, connect dots, and make better decisions together. This is not the self-oriented, ego-driven personal branding cliché that many of us find so distasteful. It’s a contribution to the collective act of leadership.

Seen through this lens, presence is not about asserting yourself. It’s about contributing your share of clarity so the whole system can function more intelligently.

WHY VISIBILITY FEELS UNCOMFORTABLE

For many leaders, discomfort with visibility isn’t about capability so much as deeply personal patterns formed early in their careers or lives. Some learned early on that speaking up carried risk. Others learned that being visible attracted scrutiny they didn’t want. For some, visibility became associated with being judged, misunderstood, or sidelined rather than supported.

Those patterns don’t dissolve just because we have a senior title. They often travel with us, shaping how much space we take up, how quickly we offer our perspective, and how long we wait before entering a conversation.

When these instincts run the show without being examined, they begin to limit impact. Not in obvious or dramatic ways, but through a gradual narrowing of influence and participation. The work isn’t to override or bulldoze those instincts. It’s to look at them honestly and ask whether the cost of staying invisible now outweighs the risk of being seen. In most senior roles, I can tell you it does.

CONTRIBUTION WITHOUT BROADCASTING

There is a middle ground between disappearing and showboating, where we find the most effective leaders contributing with intention and grounded in relevance rather than self-protection or self-promotion.

It often looks like offering our perspective early enough to shape direction, rather than waiting until it feels completely safe to share our opinion. It means speaking to the work and the system, rather than narrating our own effort. It also means trusting that our thinking adds value, even when it is still forming.

Leaders who work this way don't necessarily speak more than others. They speak when it matters, and in service of clarity. Presence, in this sense, is not about volume or dominance. It is about timing, orientation, insight, and contribution.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

This challenge is not about becoming louder, more polished, or more visible for visibility’s sake. It is about allowing more of your thinking to be seen in places where it can genuinely make a difference for the work and for the collective.

Treat this as a practice rather than a personality change. The aim is to experiment with presence, not to perform or self-promote.

1. CHOOSE THE RIGHT CONTEXT: Select one recurring meeting, forum, or decision-making space over the next two weeks where direction is set, priorities are shaped, or meaning is being made (not a purely operational or transactional update meeting).

2. NOTICE YOUR HABITUAL PATTERN: Before the meeting, take a few minutes to reflect on how you usually show up in this space. Where do you tend to hold back? Where do you wait until you are asked? Where do you assume your work will speak for itself?

3. IDENTIFY YOUR LEGIBLE CONTRIBUTION: Ask yourself the following reflection questions: What am I noticing here that would help others orient? What context, pattern, or implication might be missing from the conversation? How does this decision connect to what we are trying to achieve more broadly?

Choose one observation that feels useful to the system or to the collective knowledge of the group (not impressive to you).

1. PLACE YOUR THINKING EARLIER: In the meeting, offer that observation earlier than you normally would. Keep it simple and grounded. Avoid over-explaining, justifying, or softening your point with excessive caveats. Your task is to make your thinking legible, not to massage or defend it.

2. OBSERVE THE IMPACT: After the meeting, reflect on two things. First, what shifted in the room once your perspective was introduced? Second, what did you notice in yourself when you chose presence over restraint?

This practice is not about ego or performance. Practiced this way, visibility becomes a generous act of leadership and a contribution to the collective intelligence of the system.

If this article resonates, and you want to grow your leadership visibility, reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com

HAS YOUR EXPERIENCE BECOME A LIABILITY? When What You Know Gets in Your Way

(LISTEN TO THE NARRATED AUDIOARTICLE VERSION)

The first time he said it, she smiled politely.
He tried again. The second time, she nodded along, already formulating her response.
His third repetition had a certain ‘edge’ in his voice.
And by the fourth, the room became very still.

I was observing a senior vice president in action. Sitting across from her direct report in a one-on-one meeting, she seemed certain about where he was headed in the conversation. After all, she’d seen this situation many times in her career, and could anticipate his concerns, the angle, the familiar hesitation. Her attention wasn’t careless. It was efficient.

Except for one pesky little fact: that wasn’t what he was saying. Not even close! What she thought she knew for sure had already shaped what she unconsciously expected to hear. When his actual position finally registered for her after four attempts, it stopped the conversation cold. She wasn’t defensive or dismissive, just visibly disoriented. It wasn’t even that she disagreed. Her certainty had filtered out important data before it had a chance to even register.

Moments like this are easy to miss in real time. Nothing dramatic happened, and no voices were raised, but something important was revealed. Her experience had shifted from being an asset to creating interference, not because she lacked skill, but because her past success had closed the loop too early. 

EXPERIENCE ISN’T THE PROBLEM. FINALITY IS

We tend to speak about experience as though it automatically produces wisdom. The more years, the sharper the judgment. The longer the track record, the better the instincts.

Often, that’s true. Experience does build pattern recognition. It helps leaders move faster with less information. It allows for decisive action in situations that would overwhelm less experienced colleagues.

The trouble begins when experience becomes a filter, narrowing what leaders bother to question and what they no longer think to ask. When leaders rely too heavily on what they’ve seen before, perception can narrow rather than deepen. New information gets unconsciously screened. Signals that don’t fit the familiar narrative are discounted, not deliberately, but as a form of cognitive efficiency.

Efficiency often feels like competence, which is why it so rarely triggers self-doubt. Meetings end on time. Decisions move forward. Issues appear resolved. Leaders get recognized and reinforced for speed and clarity, not for pausing to explore what might be missing. That’s what makes the cost so hard to spot. By the time misalignment surfaces, it often shows up downstream, in disengagement, rework, or conversations that feel harder than they should.

WISDOM VERSUS CERTAINTY

One of the most important distinctions in leadership is the difference between wisdom and certainty. Wisdom holds experience lightly while it stays alert to context. It assumes there is always more to learn, especially when the situation looks and feels familiar.

Certainty closes the loop early. It sounds confident, calm, and decisive. Teams often experience it as reassuring, and leaders experience it as mastery. But certainty also has a blind spot: it resists disruption.

When the environment changes faster than our past experience can track, certainty starts to interfere with judgment. We begin mistaking confidence for accuracy, not because we’re careless, but because our internal models haven’t been updated to match the current level of change or complexity.

WHEN PATTERN RECOGNITION HARDENS

As humans, we're wired for pattern recognition from the beginning. Recognizing patterns is a powerful leadership capability that helps us to see around corners, anticipate risks, and connect dots others haven’t yet noticed. Over time, though, pattern recognition can harden into pattern entrenchment.

When that happens, we stop asking, “What’s unique or different in this case?” and start assuming we already know the answer. Curiosity gets replaced by speed. Listening moves away from trying to understand what might be different this time to listening for evidence that confirms what we already know or believe.

This pattern often shows up in leaders who have been rewarded for their judgment. Each success reinforces the belief that their reading of situations is reliable. Over time, that reliability can turn into reflex. And reflex is not the same as responsiveness.

THE COST OF OUTDATED INTERNAL MODELS

Many of us learned to lead in less chaotic or ambiguous environments than the ones we now operate in. Decision cycles were slower; hierarchies were clearer; dissent travelled differently.

But leaders are navigating something different in today’s world: more voices, greater tension, cultural challenges and polarization, and an increasing number of competing truths, all layered on top of already complex technical decisions.

When leaders don’t update their internal models, they often feel blindsided by outcomes that no longer line up with their intent. Trust begins to wobble, engagement dips, and feedback becomes harder to interpret, leaving the leader with a nagging sense that something is off, even if they can’t quite name it.

What’s often off in these moments is not capability, but curiosity and adaptability.

LEARNING AGILITY, CURIOSITY, AND TRUST

Learning agility is about staying open to questioning your own assumptions, especially when they’ve served you well. It’s the willingness to let curiosity interrupt certainty. And it’s the discipline of staying interested in what’s actually happening in this specific situation, not just what usually happens.

Research from the Center for Creative Leadership has consistently highlighted learning agility as a differentiator in leadership effectiveness, particularly in complex, changing environments. Leaders who stay curious, reflective, and willing to recalibrate are more likely to sustain trust and performance over time.

Curiosity does something else that certainty can’t: it also builds trust. When leaders stay genuinely curious, they signal respect. They create space for difference, making it safer for people to offer information that doesn’t fit the popular opinion. Over time, that shapes culture far more than decisiveness alone ever could.

WHAT THIS LOOKS LIKE IN PRACTICE

When practicing curiosity, notice how quickly you form an opinion. Make a conscious choice to slow that moment down, and ask questions you don’t already have answers for (that's how you know you've asked a genuinely curious question). Check in on your intention: are you listening to learn, or listening to confirm?

In practice, it can also mean inviting your team into the process, not by asking for validation, but by creating space for challenge. Leaders who do this well tend to make better decisions, earn deeper trust, and adapt more effectively as complexity increases.

If you’ve been successful for a long time, think of this as not as a warning, but as a mirror. Experience doesn’t stop being valuable, but it does need to stay alive. The leaders who continue to grow are not the ones who abandon what’s worked, but the ones who remain curious about when it might need updating. Past success is only a liability when it goes unexamined.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

1. 1.      NAME THE MOMENT: Choose one real, upcoming decision, conversation, or recurring issue where you typically rely on instinct and past experience, or a situation where you usually move quickly because it feels familiar. This might be a team discussion, a performance issue, a strategic decision, or a pattern you think you already understand.

PAUSE THE INTERNAL LOOP: Before responding, pause long enough to surface your assumptions. Ask yourself:

• What am I assuming I already know about this situation?

• What story am I telling myself about how this usually goes?

• What real evidence do I have for my assessment?

• What might I be overlooking because it feels familiar?

PRACTISE CURIOSITY OUT LOUD: In the conversation, ask a question that genuinely invites new information. For example:

• What might I be missing here?

• What’s different about this situation than it appears at first glance?

• If we didn’t have to worry about ‘x’, what would we be doing differently?

• If we slowed this down, what else should we be paying attention to?

OBSERVE THE SHIFT: Pay attention to what happens next. Notice not just the content of what you hear, but how the room responds. Does the conversation open up? Do people offer information they hadn’t shared before? Does the energy change when certainty gives way to curiosity?

REFLECT AFTERWARD: After the interaction, take a few minutes to reflect:

• What new information emerged once I slowed down?

• Where did my initial assumptions hold, and where didn’t they?

• What did I notice about my own listening when I chose curiosity over speed?

• What do I know now that I didn’t know before?

This is not about abandoning experience. It’s about keeping it alive by letting it inform your judgment without prematurely closing the loop.

If this article resonates with you, and you're interested in how Executive Coaching can help you, reach out for a free exploratory conversation with me at www.leslierohonczy.com.