Setting up in the hall expecting the usual 30 – 50 people, at 5 minutes before start time, with no warning, our little venue was suddenly swamped with a packed house. 80 people crammed into a small hall with standing room only at the back. It was the kind of moment where you sink or swim, and I swam. I adjusted on the fly, kept the energy up, and somehow, pulled it off. At 20 years of age, I had just spoken to 80 people, nailed the presentation, and got a goodly number from a room full of strangers to sign up for a course.
I walked into the office next morning, expecting a pat on the back. Instead, my boss glared at me, stony-faced, looking like someone had served him cold coffee.
I sat down at his desk all smiles. But his face was like a storm cloud. In an angry whisper, he seethed, “You lost me money!” I blinked. What the . . . ?
Then one day, I read something - probably an article, maybe a book - and it clicked. There was a formula for these conversations. A way to give feedback without destroying morale. A way to lead.
I’d just pulled off something huge, and this guy was telling me I wrecked it.
So, I tried it.
And it worked.
“Don’t you know . . . you should put a ‘Full House’ sign on the door as soon as all the chairs are taken! You don’t just let everyone in. Standing-room-only loses money.” I sat there stunned. I’d done everything right - adapted, performed, made it work. And yet, in his eyes, I had failed. A week later, I quit. At the time, I didn’t connect the dots, but years later, I realized what that moment had done to me. It wounded me, and I still carried the scar. It had made me believe that performance feedback wasn’t about growth; it was about punishment. And that belief shaped how I led my own team. When I started hiring people, I avoided one-on-one coaching conversations. When people justified, denied, or made excuses for their behaviour, I didn’t think on my feet; instead I floundered. If someone’s behavior was dragging the team down, I’d grit my teeth and tolerate it, hoping it would fix itself. Part of me thought, if I call someone out, they’d get upset then decide to leave, just like I did all those years ago. But the truth? The real truth? I didn’t know exactly what to say or how to say it.
What I had feared for years - that coaching someone would make them quit - wasn’t true at all. People didn’t leave. They improved. They appreciated the clarity, the directness. And suddenly, I saw leadership for what it really was: not just driving results, but creating an environment where people actually want to be. Because at the end of the day, results aren’t the goal. Culture is. Get that right, and the numbers take care of themselves.
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