Heart of Management

Author: Heart of Management

  • “Welcome to the Daily Crisis Club Manager’s Edition”

    Membership? Free.

    Enrollment? Automatic, the day you get the title.

    Activities? Live-action crises, ever-changing,

    with reruns scheduled at the most inconvenient times.

    You plan a calm day,

    knock out your to-do list,

    finally drink a cup of coffee while it’s still hot…

    and then life taps you on the shoulder and says:

    “Sweetheart, sit down. Let us show you what a real crisis looks like.”

    Here’s the greatest hits list:

    Business Crisis Your biggest client announces they’re moving to a competitor. (And just to spice it up… they do it at a press conference.)

    PR Meltdown A viral post on X (Twitter) with 300 shares: “Don’t buy from them look what I got!” Customer service lines are on fire, and your heart rate’s at 180.

    Health & Safety Scare Emergency call: “There’s a gas leak at the plant.” Of course, it’s the same day the CEO’s visiting for a tour.

    Cyberattack Morning: business as usual. By lunch: every screen flashes pink with a message “Pay in Bitcoin or kiss your files goodbye.”

    Operations Breakdown A truck with a critical shipment breaks down 120 miles from its destination. The driver? Not picking up. GPS? Says he’s in the middle of a cornfield.

    Financial Shock Monthly report. Bottom line in red. Very red. Almost as red as your face when you present it to the board.

    HR Bombshell Your team’s star performer quits. Effective Monday. No handover.

    Environmental Mess Heavy rain. Warehouse flooded. And then you discover “insurance” has a lot of fine print.

    Internal Reputation Hit Rumor spreads you’re leaving your role. (And you hear it first from the security guard in the lobby.)

    Innovation Flop New product launch. Customer feedback: “Oh… we already had this two years ago.”

    The tip?

    Crisis management isn’t about if, it’s about when.

    So expect them, build your playbook,

    and walk in with humor and a mindset that carries your whole team.

    Because if you’re stressed, they’re twice as stressed.

    But if you stay calm, they’ll know you can all get through it.

  • “The Only Engineer in a World of Managers”

    A boardroom.

    Twenty managers in crisp, corporate-blue dress shirts,

    standard charcoal-gray slacks,

    and body language that said, “We were born to lead.”

    And then there was me.

    Jeans, a bargain shirt from the outlet mall,

    and a face that said, “Did someone invite me here by mistake?”

    Back then, I was the only engineer

    in a world of managers.

    There was no promotion track for engineers.

    The only way forward

    was to cross over into management.

    So when a management position opened up,

    I wanted it, badly.

    But instead of giving me the chance,

    they hired someone from the outside.

    Why?

    Because I was a “great engineer”…

    but not a manager.

    It was like telling a chef

    his food is extraordinary

    but he’s not qualified to run a kitchen.

    That’s when it hit me:

    In organizations, being good at your craft isn’t enough.

    You have to project leadership potential

    long before you get the title.

    Ever felt like you were ready to take the next step,

    only to watch someone else leap ahead of you?

  • “We Sat. We Talked. We Almost Threw Punches.”

    Okay, not really.

    But you know that silence in a meeting

    when everyone’s eyes are screaming?

    I was leading a brand-new management team.

    Some were seasoned veterans with tons of experience.

    Others were new, sharp, hungry.

    A winning mix?

    On paper, yes.

    In practice? More like putting peanut butter on sushi—interesting, but… it doesn’t exactly go down easy.

    There were arguments.

    Drama.

    Hallway chatter.

    Small tensions that turned into big stories.

    Every discussion felt like a fight.

    Every decision, a vote of no confidence.

    Something had to give.

    And then something simple happened:

    we opened a process.

    Not a box-checking, corporate exercise.

    A real one.

    One that taught us how to give feedback.

    How to stop shooting and start talking.

    Feedback not as a reaction, but as a tool.

    Not just to vent, but to move things forward.

    Slowly, things shifted.

    The energy balanced out.

    Fights turned into conversations.

    The cynicism cooled down.

    And those eyes stopped screaming.

    The insight?

    Conflict doesn’t disappear.

    It just changes form.

    And when people learn how to argue,

    they also learn when to compromise.

    So here’s the question:

    Does your team know how to fight to get stronger?

    Or are they just fighting?

  • “How I Burned a Million Dollars”

    A few years ago,

    I was convinced I was making a smart move.

    We invested one million dollars in an automation project.

    Yes, a million.

    I had a clear goal:

    to prove that automation could work at scale.

    And honestly? I was so determined

    that I jumped at the opportunity without really checking

    if the system was the right fit.

    I rushed.

    I skipped critical evaluation and testing.

    My head said, “Move fast.”

    My heart said, “This is the future.”

    But no one stopped to ask:

    What if it doesn’t deliver?

    The day we launched it,

    it needed… training wheels.

    An entire team had to patch, workaround, and push it forward.

    It never really “ran” on its own.

    And after a few years,

    we ended up replacing it entirely with a new system.

    My leadership takeaway:

    When you’re in a hurry to prove a point,

    you can pay a heavy price.

    Pause. Ask the uncomfortable questions.

    Do the deep due diligence before making a big call.

    Because sometimes, moving too fast costs far more than the investment itself.

  • “She didn’t ask me to write this. But I just can’t stay quiet.”

    Every evening she comes home exhausted.

    She gives everything she has.

    Carries projects on her shoulders that would crush most people.

    And it’s not just performance.

    It’s brains, empathy, intuition, responsibility, big-picture thinking

    everything you’d want in a leader, she’s got it.

    But then the message comes:

    So-and-so got promoted.

    Not her.

    And it happens again.

    And again.

    She smiles.

    Says, “It’s okay.”

    That what really matters is working on something meaningful.

    That the title doesn’t matter as much as the impact.

    And me?

    I’m boiling inside.

    Because I see her worth.

    And I don’t understand

    why others can’t see it.

    Then I start to wonder:

    Maybe she doesn’t push herself forward enough?

    Maybe she doesn’t “market” herself?

    Maybe she just does the job too well,

    so it’s easier to keep her exactly where she is?

    But it hurts.

    Because I know it’s not her fault.

    And I also know

    that one day, they’ll finally wake up.

    And by then…

    it might be too late.

    My takeaway?

    Sometimes, to move up,

    it’s not enough to be amazing.

    You also have to remind people of it—without shame.

    Are you doing that?

  • “But aren’t managers supposed to be cold?”

    That’s what I used to think.

    Back before I got my very first leadership role.

    I pictured them in closed rooms.

    Fluorescent lights.

    Decisions clicking into place like a keyboard.

    No emotion. No doubt. No heart.

    And me?

    I told myself:

    If that’s what it takes,

    maybe I’m not cut out for this.

    Because here’s the thing

    I’m human.

    I care.

    I second-guess myself.

    Sometimes I can’t fall asleep after a tough conversation with an employee.

    I can’t give feedback without worrying how it will land.

    I’m not a robot.

    And I was afraid maybe that would make me a bad manager.

    But the deeper I went into leadership,

    something shifted.

    I started seeing the people around me.

    The fear in their eyes before a big change.

    The hesitation in their words when they asked for feedback.

    The tremor in the voice of someone who wanted a promotion

    but didn’t dare to ask.

    And I realized something simple:

    To lead people, you don’t shut off your heart

    you learn how to use it.

    That doesn’t mean being too soft.

    That doesn’t mean avoiding hard calls.

    Yes, as a manager you sometimes cut.

    Sometimes you fire.

    Sometimes you’re the one who says the words they dreaded hearing.

    But if you do it right

    eye to eye,

    without arrogance,

    with your heart in the right place

    it doesn’t break people.

    It builds them.

    It makes both you and them stronger.

    It makes leadership simply… more human.

    There are no people without feelings.

    Only people who never learned how to use them well.

    The myth:

    “A good manager doesn’t need to be nice.”

    The truth:

    “A good manager needs to be human.”

    What do you think? Do you see it that way too?

  • As a CEO, you learn to hear the noise even when the room is quiet.

    It wasn’t a shout.

    It was a small jab.

    But the whole room felt it.

    I was sitting in a product development meeting.

    A room full of managers

    people I respect.

    Smart, committed, doing great work.

    And then, between one discussion and the next,

    came that comment.

    It wasn’t loud.

    It didn’t sound angry.

    It wasn’t dramatic.

    Just a jab

    like a drop of acid in a cup of coffee.

    Everyone went silent.

    We moved on.

    But inside, I knew it hadn’t passed.

    Because when you’re the CEO,

    you learn to recognize the silence that comes from being hurt.

    So after the meeting,

    I pulled him aside.

    I told him:

    “That doesn’t fly here. Not with me. Not in this company.”

    His reaction?

    No pushback.

    No ego.

    Just quiet listening.

    And from that day forward, it never happened again.

    Something in the tone, the attitude, the team dynamic

    shifted.

    Here’s my take:

    Organizational culture isn’t built in slide decks.

    It’s built in the little comments everyone hears,

    and in the moment they turn to see if you’ll respond.

    As a CEO, you don’t get to choose whether you notice.

    You choose whether you act.

    And that choice

    to respond or not

    is what shapes the culture.

  • A young, sharp manager sat across from me.

    “I want a promotion,” he said.

    “I’ve earned it. I work hard, I deliver results, I go above and beyond.”

    I listened. I nodded.

    Then I asked him one question:

    “Tell me, how do you think leaders actually make promotion decisions?”

    He went silent.

    Not because he didn’t know the answer

    but because he didn’t realize that was even the question.

    And that’s when I thought back to myself, years ago.

    When I wanted my very first promotion.

    And I felt like there was this glass wall I couldn’t break through.

    I was a good employee, well-regarded…

    but not “promotion material.”

    Why? I had no idea.

    So I did what most people do:

    Took another course. Worked even harder. Sacrificed more.

    And still couldn’t figure out why nothing was happening.

    Until I started asking different questions:

    Maybe I’m thinking like an employee, when I should be thinking like a leader. Maybe I’m trying to stand out in ways no one actually cares about. Maybe I’m pouring my energy into the wrong things. Or maybe, just maybe no one has ever shown me what the real path looks like.

    Since then, my work has been to uncover that path, step by step:

    How to think like the people who make the decisions. How to figure out what’s really holding you back. How to turn your everyday work into a quiet stage for influence. How to ask for a promotion, without apologizing or shrinking yourself. And how, once it happens, not to settle, but to ask, “What’s next? What’s the next level?”

    It’s not magic.

    And it’s definitely not luck.

    It’s a method. Pure and simple.

    פ

  • “Your Best Candidate? Might Not Even Make It Past the Filters.”

    It always starts the same way.

    You sit down with HR.

    Open the spreadsheet.

    Go through the checklist:

    Degree. Experience. Background.

    Olympic-level Excel skills.

    You tick boxes.

    Cross off names.

    Tighten the filters.

    And you’re left with five.

    Five candidates who all look…

    basically the same.

    Same language.

    Same path.

    Same boundaries.

    And then comes the frustration:

    “There’s no excellence here. No spark.”

    But really—what did you expect?

    You wrote a spec for a robot.

    And you’re surprised Einstein didn’t show up?

    I’ve seen this play out time and time again:

    A massive pool of fresh grads—hungry, talented, lacking only experience.

    Another of older professionals—even retirees—with a lifetime of knowledge.

    And they all have one thing in common:

    The system filters them out.

    Not because they’re not good.

    But because they don’t fit the fine print.

    My turning point?

    I once pushed for a candidate who didn’t meet a single formal requirement.

    But something about him stood out.

    When they asked:

    “Why are you insisting on him?”

    I said:

    “Because I’m not hiring a checklist.

    I’m hiring a human being.”

    Since then, I’ve been drawn to people who don’t fit neatly into boxes:

    • The ones who haven’t done it—yet—but clearly can.

    • The ones who don’t look like everyone else, but see further.

    • The ones who’ll challenge me, not just blend in.

    So here’s the agenda:

    If you truly want excellence—

    don’t be afraid to go off-spec.

    Because the best people weren’t born ISO-compliant.

    They were born with a spark.

    And with a bit of courage,

    you can be the one who gives it space to catch fire.

  • The Dishwasher Was Empty.

    But She Was Still Standing There.

    I was proud of myself.

    The dishwasher was empty.

    Dishes were clean. Counters wiped down.

    Just like in the commercials.

    Then my wife walked in.

    She looked around.

    Said nothing.

    Just stood there, hands on hips, eyebrows raised.

    You know the look.

    I smiled like a hero and said,

    “All done!”

    She didn’t smile back.

    She just tilted her chin toward the counter:

    “What about that?”

    And yeah…

    The counter did look like someone made a tuna sandwich in the dark.

    But in my head?

    Not my problem.

    I had a task: dishwasher.

    Mission accomplished.

    Then she hit me with this:

    “You’re not taking a math test.

    It’s not about what was assigned.

    It’s about seeing the whole picture.”

    Boom.

    Right there, holding a dish towel in one hand and a coffee cup in the other,

    I saw it all.

    My team.

    My coworkers.

    The familiar phrases:

    “That’s not my responsibility.”

    “I did my part.”

    “No one told me…”

    And it hit me

    That’s the difference between an employee and a leader.

    Employees wait for assignments.

    Leaders notice what’s needed.

    Sure, the dishwasher was empty.

    But my brain?

    It was full.

    Because I finally understood:

    It doesn’t matter how well you executed your task

    if you missed the bigger picture.

    Since that day at home and at work

    I stopped asking “What was I told to do?”

    And started asking:

    “What’s really needed right now?”

    Ever had one of those moments where you were so focused on the task,

    you forgot to look up and see the full picture?