Heart of Management

Category: Motivating People

  • The courage to speak up… smells very different when you do it right

    Following last week’s post

    the one about how the opposite of courage isn’t fear, but avoidance

    today we’re diving into the first kind of courage.

    There are moments in management

    when the room feels filled with the distinct scent of

    “I want to say something… but maybe this isn’t the right time.”

    It’s a familiar smell.

    A subtle mix of lukewarm coffee,

    an air conditioner working a little too hard,

    and papers shuffling not because anyone needs them,

    but just to fill the silence.

    And then the classic lines appear:

    “Well… only if that’s okay…”

    “I don’t want to interrupt, but…”

    “I just have a small point… really small…”

    (And if you’re anything like me,

    you recognize those sentences in yourself too.

    Yes, I’m looking at you. And at me.)

    And here comes the truth,

    the kind that sometimes stings

    like a metal chair in a conference room:

    The courage to speak up isn’t about raising your volume.

    It’s about raising your intent.

    You don’t need to shout.

    You don’t need to demand.

    You don’t need to give a speech.

    Sometimes courage sounds like a short sentence,

    said calmly,

    at the exact moment everyone was hoping

    someone would be willing to say

    what everyone else was already feeling.

    And sometimes courage sounds like this instead:

    “Let’s talk about this one-on-one.”

    Because here’s the truth:

    the courage to speak up isn’t about

    who spoke the loudest,

    but about who chose the right arena.

    When you say the right thing,

    in the right way,

    to the right person,

    in the right room

    your message passes through layers of defense

    as if they were a thin curtain,

    not a fortified wall.

    And then something beautiful happens:

    Your team doesn’t just hear you.

    They feel you.

    In their chest. In their gut.

    In the place where real change is born.

    And this

    this is the first kind of courage

    that separates

    a manager who gets work done

    from a leader who actually moves people.

    Before you scroll on, pause for a moment and ask yourself:

    If today you removed just one

    “only if that’s okay…”

    and replaced it with one clear sentence of truth

    what would you talk about?

    (Don’t answer me.

    Answer yourself.

    That’s where the courage muscle starts to grow.)

    Next post, we’ll move on to the second kind of courage:

    the courage to trust.

    The one that decides whether you keep holding

    357 tasks by yourself,

    or finally start building a team

    that actually walks with you.

    (Hint: it takes more courage than it looks.)

  • 💔 Turns out the opposite of courage… isn’t fear at all

    (Yes, and I learned this from a woman with a tattoo.)

    The Zoom call started like any other one.

    Camera on.

    Hot coffee in hand.

    And then she appeared on screen.

    A senior education leader.

    Responsible for the professional development of over 6,000 teachers.

    And from the very first moment, it was clear:

    this was someone you couldn’t ignore.

    Sharp presence. Big smile.

    A tattoo on her arm (and that’s where I paused, I didn’t ask what it said).

    And a feeling in the room like

    someone had just opened a window after a very long day.

    She didn’t raise her voice.

    But she was the kind of person who walks into a room

    and the noise instinctively pulls up a chair.

    We talked about leadership. About change.

    About what actually holds people together from the inside.

    And then she said something simple:

    “The opposite of courage?

    It’s not fear.

    It’s avoidance.”

    One of those sentences that makes you stop mid-sip.

    Fear is loud.

    You can feel it. You can name it.

    Avoidance is quiet.

    It slips under the radar.

    It doesn’t shout, it whispers.

    And it shows up in a manager’s life

    long before they realize what’s happening…

    stealing years of growth and effectiveness along the way.

    Then she added one more thing:

    “There are three kinds of courage.”

    And that’s where the connection became mine.

    Managerial.

    Deep.

    She only named them.

    My mind filled in the rest:

    🩵 The courage to speak up

    Truth. Authenticity. Navigating organizational politics

    without paying unnecessary prices.

    🩵 The courage to trust

    Letting go. Delegating.

    Stopping yourself from holding 357 tasks with two hands.

    🩵 The courage to experiment

    Innovation. Mistakes. Learning. Change.

    Actually moving reality—not just moving the cursor.

    And suddenly it all snapped into focus:

    “Managerial stuckness” isn’t personality.

    It’s not workload.

    It’s not character.

    It’s usually one form of courage

    that’s been left unattended for too long.

    So before you scroll on

    Do a quick internal audit:

    Which kind of courage

    are you most actively avoiding?

    Because right there

    exactly there

    your next big leadership shift begins.

    📌 Next week, I’ll open up the first one: the courage to speak up.

    And I promise it will change how you see your team, your boss,

    and yourself.

    📌 And by the way… there’s one more kind of courage.

    Just as deep.

    The courage to change.

    That one deserves a post of its own.

    (Hint: it’s the habits managers pay the highest price for.)

  • 💊 When There’s No Meaning, Compassion Gets Stuck in the System

    A little while ago, I went through a minor medical procedure.

    Nothing dramatic until the pain showed up.

    And it didn’t just visit… it moved in.

    I asked for painkillers.

    “No problem,” they said.

    They just needed to open a file, get the doctor’s signature,

    have the nurse approve it

    and make sure all the stars in the universe lined up.

    My wife fierce as a lioness went to the reception desk.

    But the clerk wasn’t there.

    She called her name a few times.

    When she finally came, she was in the middle of a chat with a friend.

    “I’m busy for a moment,” the clerk said.

    My wife, gentle but firm, the kind of gentle that comes

    from watching someone you love twist in pain

    insisted she finish the call and open my file.

    From there, it turned into a pilgrimage of signatures,

    forms, approvals, and waiting.

    Almost an hour until I finally got something

    to take the edge off the pain.

    An hour that never should’ve happened.

    I lay there

    not angry, not complaining

    just thinking.

    If that clerk only realized

    that for her it was “just another file,”

    but for me it was another unnecessary sting of pain

    everything would have looked different.

    Not because she didn’t care,

    but because no one ever explained

    what helping really means.

    And it’s exactly the same in organizations.

    When people don’t understand the meaning behind their actions,

    they stop seeing the person and start seeing the procedure.

    Because when there’s no meaning,

    compassion gets stuck in the system.

    So tell me

    in your team,

    do they understand the procedures,

    or the people behind them?

    Because real leadership begins right there

    in that moment you realize

    that behind every “just another request,”

    there’s someone waiting to be seen.

  • “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?

  • 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?

  • Quick change? That only works in a microwave.

    Consultants flew in from overseas.

    Slick slides.

    A big vision.

    A one-year plan and voilà! Operational excellence.

    Sounds impressive, right?

    But then I looked around.

    My people were barely keeping up with the day-to-day.

    Line breakdowns.

    Customers pushing hard on the phone.

    Marketing pushing discounts.

    Sales making promises we couldn’t deliver on.

    And in the middle of all that?

    Learn a whole new system?

    Change the entire workflow?

    Achieve excellence?

    I told myself:

    “They saw the plan.

    I see the people.”

    And I really saw them.

    Running from meeting to email,

    Exhausted. Confused. Stressed.

    Going through the motions of change just trying to survive the day.

    So I did something no management book teaches.

    I opened the contract.

    I scaled back the consulting.

    And I extended the timeline by a year and a half.

    Yes, a year and a half.

    Because real change doesn’t happen under pressure.

    There are no magic tricks.

    You can’t buy it in a deck of slides.

    Real change happens

    when the pace matches the heartbeat of your organization.

    Ever tried to push a change too fast

    and the system just spit it back out?

  • Five Questions Great Managers Ask — Even When They’re Uncomfortable

    Management isn’t about having all the answers.

    It’s about knowing how to ask the questions that are easiest to avoid.

    The ones that open real conversations.

    That don’t go down easy.

    That don’t start with “How’s that task going?”

    So here are five questions that changed the way I talk to my team.

    And sometimes… the way I talk to myself.

    What do you need from me that I’m probably not seeing? (It feels risky. It’s also incredibly valuable.)

    If I disappeared for a week what wouldn’t happen here? (A good answer can show you your real value or where you’re over-involved.)

    What’s hardest for you to say to me? (Not a question about weakness. A question about trust.)

    When did you give your 100% and get nothing in return? (It hurts. But it tells you what really matters to your people.)

    What am I not asking that I should be? (This is the question of managers who know that real leadership starts with what’s left unsaid.)

    This isn’t a checklist.

    It’s a key.

    Ask one this week.

    Just one.

    And see what happens when you ask not to check a box

    but to truly listen.

  • Got a “good” question? Ask it.

    Even if you’re the manager.

    Especially if you’re the manager.

    You know that moment in a meeting when someone drops a term…

    And your whole body signals:

    “Of course. Of course I know what CAC is. I’m the manager, after all.”

    But your mind goes:

    “If someone shouts at me right now ‘What’s CAC?’ – I’ll just head out for a coffee break and never come back.”

    So you smile, jot something down in your notebook (even though you have no idea what you wrote),

    And later that evening, you ask Google.

    Or your kid.

    Or ChatGPT.

    And that’s exactly the moment you missed the chance to be a more human manager.

    Because the gap wasn’t in knowledge it was in the courage to ask.

    A simple question like:

    “Could you explain that for a second?”

    Can change the entire dynamic of a meeting.

    It shows you’re not projecting authority based on bravado – but trust.

    And it gives others permission to ask too.

    And in an age where even a dishwasher can define “digital marketing,”

    What sets you apart isn’t what you know.

    It’s your willingness to keep learning.

    And by the way? I have no idea what CAC is either.

    But I’m going to ask the chat.

    What’s worth remembering?

    The one who asks doesn’t look less smart.

    They just look like a sane manager.

  • A management tip (that I learned the hard way):

    If you start feedback with a “but” – you’ve already lost the conversation.

    I used to jump straight into feedback.

    Direct. Sharp.

    “Not accurate enough,”

    “I expected more,”

    “There’s a gap that needs to be closed.”

    From my side, it was just being straightforward.

    From their side?

    It felt like the end of the world.

    Then it hit me:

    Wait a second.

    I hate it when people start with that tone too.

    No one likes feeling like they have to defend themselves before they’ve even had their coffee.

    So I started differently.

    Something small.

    A sentence like:

    “I want to start with what worked well.”

    And that changed the whole tone.

    Not because I gave up on the feedback –

    But because I started with an open heart, not a pointing finger.

    It sounds simple,

    But it completely shifts the energy of the conversation.

    What’s worth remembering?

    The sharpest feedback is the kind that doesn’t feel like a knife.

    A good start leads to an ending someone can actually take with them.

    Good feedback is the kind the other person can truly absorb.

  • A visit to the production lines

    Once, during a routine visit to one of the production lines, I saw that the workers were struggling with a simple measurement.

    I stood on the side, noticed the confusion – and then stepped in.

    I showed them exactly how to measure.

    We solved it in two minutes.

    At the end of the day, I asked the consultant who was accompanying me:

    “So, how was I?”

    He looked at me and said:

    “Terrible.”

    I was shocked.

    “What do you mean? I solved the problem!”

    Then he said a sentence that changed everything I thought I knew about management:

    “You’re not supposed to solve problems.

    You’re supposed to teach others how to solve them.”

    And from that day on – I stopped being the hero who saves everyone.

    And started being the one who asks:

    “What do you think?” “How would you handle this?” “What did you learn from it?”

    At first, it took restraint.

    But later – it freed me.

    And it lifted them.

    A good manager isn’t measured by how much they know –

    But by how much they help others believe that they do.