I didn’t have to think. I knew what I needed to do and why. After a few rounds of arguing my position, I had solidified my case, which I continued to refine as we worked out the strategy to present to the client. I had spent too long trying to make others understand the employee’s point of view — I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity to act on what I knew was best for the team now that I was finally in a role with enough authority to do so. Rather than just carrying the stories forward, I could finally leverage what I had internalized about the employee experience and actually show what it looked like to prioritize the team, while also ensuring a better delivery and more efficient use of the client’s time.
It almost didn’t happen. The overwhelming momentum from the set schedule threatened to steamroll any deviation from the path. This is the kind of rigid thinking that punishes people for creativity or outside-the-box thinking. Even if the idea is better in the long run, a system that can’t handle change won’t allow it — especially if change can be perceived as a failure exposing some kind of vulnerability.
I pushed into it; I didn’t just want to fix it here, I wanted to show what was possible. If I could demonstrate it worked here, then others would see it and, maybe, start to question their own assumptions. A single action could have a ripple effect, or at least it would give me a new story to add to my arsenal — this time about the schedule that flexed when the team needed it to.