#7
The Company We Keep
My last newsletter about Skeptics appears to have really struck a nerve with many of you. Many comments and questions about the struggle of implementing new ideas and navigating the challenges of keeping internal teams aligned. Getting everyone rowing in the same direction feels almost impossible for many organizations.
You're not alone. I have probably learned some of the most valuable lessons on organizational change not as a consultant, but by working internally for one of our clients.
Back in 2017, after 12 years at the helm of Cause+Affect, I was approached by one of our long standing clients to move in-house. This was a very enticing opportunity, as for years I had been the outside consultant, watching organizations struggle to implement, returning to old patterns the moment we left. Now, I'd have the chance to drive change from the inside.
I was excited and completely unprepared for what I had gotten myself into.
How I Worked (and Why It Failed)
I'd never had a leadership position inside an organization I didn't own. I quickly discovered that I had no clear methodology to follow in this new reality, no mentor to lead the way and so, mostly, I was making it up as I went.
My process was straightforward. I would spend weeks developing strategic concepts on my own or with my small team, then come to my leadership peers with fully-formed concepts. I'd present. They'd question. I'd defend with what I saw as strategic brilliance. They'd push back with practical concerns. I'd grow frustrated they couldn't see what was obvious to me. They'd grow frustrated that I couldn't understand their constraints.
It all came to a head with the yellow taps.
The Story That Haunts Me
We were developing a new rental housing platform, and my strategy had multiple properties connected under one brand. I was looking for unique ways to create memorable experiences that tied them together.
I had an idea: make the kitchen tap yellow.
Not gold. Not brass. Bright yellow. Every kitchen sink, every property. Unusual enough to be memorable, simple enough to be affordable, consistent enough to become a signature.I came to the meeting prepared. Examples of how small unexpected details create brand recall. I had mockups showing how it would look.
I presented. They stared.
"That's weird," someone finally said. "Nobody has yellow taps."
"Exactly. That's the point."
"I don't know if I'd want to live somewhere with yellow taps."
"I doubt that's true"
"Look at this spreadsheet. Each yellow tap is $153 more than standard. Multiply that by hundreds of units. That's a lot of money for something frivolous."
"It's not frivolous, it's strategic differentiation—"
"What happens when we need to replace one? Yellow taps aren't standard. Maintenance costs—"
"The maintenance concern is valid, but if you look at the brand awareness metrics—"
Back and forth. Me defending with design thinking. Them resisting with practicality. Neither side really hearing the other.
We never did the yellow taps.
What I Should Have Done
It took longer than it should have, but I can finally see now what I couldn't see then. I was trying to convince them of my vision instead of inviting them to solve the problem with me.
What I eventually understood — after a business coach and the particular clarity that comes from being asked to leave — is this:
Life should be a Dance. Not a Performance.
I came with a solution. What I should have brought was a question: "We need memorable differentiation on a limited budget. What if we chose one unexpected element and made it consistently distinctive? What could that be?"
Maybe they'd have suggested yellow taps. Maybe something better. But I didn't do that. I was performing instead of dancing.
Performance Versus Dance
Every meeting followed the same script: Here's the problem. Here's my solution. Here's why it will work. I thought I was being professional. Prepared. Strategic. I was actually performing, seeking validation for ideas I'd already decided on.
The pattern repeated across dozens of initiatives.
What I learned, painfully, was the difference between performing and dancing. When you perform, you're seeking approval — and if I'm completely honest, applause — for what you've already decided. This approach keeps you separate from your audience.
When you dance, you're moving together, responding to each other, creating something neither could create alone. It requires vulnerability as you don't know exactly where you'll go. It requires trust too, as you have to let your partner influence you.
I performed. They did not applaud. We both failed.
The yellow taps should have been our problem to solve together, not my vision imposed on their reality.
Understanding Skeptics
Most of the people in that room weren't opposed to differentiation. They were confused about how yellow taps served our goals. They were protecting the organization's resources and reputation, just like the foundation leader I wrote about last week.
Skeptics want to understand your reasoning, not just your conclusions, and more than that, they just want to be involved.
When you dance with Skeptics. When you invite them into the problem rather than defending your predetermined solution, you will see something shift. They stop being obstacles and become partners in creating something better.
The foundation leader became a champion because we worked together to build something aligned with her values. Many of the yellow tap skeptics might have done the same if I'd engaged them as collaborators instead of performing for their approval.
Skeptics test whether you're genuinely solving problems together or just seeking validation for decisions you've already made. They force you to prove that your ideas serve the shared mission, not just your ego.
But Not Everyone Will Dance
But there's a catch, I'm afraid. Some people in that room weren't Skeptics at all. Some understood exactly what I was proposing and simply disagreed with it. Even with a perfect process, they would have opposed prioritizing memorable differentiation over practical efficiency. They valued different things than I did.
If Champions are drawn to your values, then Critics represent a fundamentally different relationship. People who understand your values perfectly and wholly disagree with them.
Next week we'll explore Critics in depth. They are the people who aren't confused about your approach but disagree with it on principle. Why dancing with them requires different skills than dancing with Skeptics. And why their resistance might be exactly what authentic organizations need to find their true company.
—Steven