Lessons In Leadership Part 5
Even a crown, if hollow, cannot carry weight for long.
Where Great Work Meets Great Complexity
At Rea Bana
National Institute, the air often pulsed with a quiet
intensity. The corridors didnât just echo with footsteps, they moved with the
rhythm of coordination, collaboration, and purpose. The organization stood as
the sectorâs gold standard: the place where governments turned for policy
direction, civil society groups sought support for legislative reform, and
communities relied on for training, protection, and empowerment.
The organisation managed projects that stretched across
boundariesâresearch, public education, social protection, systemic
transformation, advocacy, and community upliftment. It was a legacy
institution, grounded in trust, and driven by a vision for sustainable change.
To keep that engine running, we drew from a wide, and talented pool of professionalsâproject managers, analysts, administrators, field
coordinators, lawyers, policy experts, social and community workers. People
werenât just hired; they were developed. We moved them between teams,
departments, and portfolios to stretch their potential and spark growth. It was
our version of cultivationâcareful, considered, intentional.
But with diversity, comes unpredictability.
đŸWorking Styles and Quiet Storms
Every office has its charactersâpersonalities that shape how the organization breathes.
There are the ants: consistent, methodical, never flashy, always moving. You rarely have to follow up with themâthey meet deadlines before you even remember there was one.
Then come the owls:
reflective and wise, guiding from the shadows. They donât speak often, but when
they do, people listen.
Parrots fill the room with sound. They're vibrant and
talkative, often echoing others, but rarely pushing original ideas. Their
presence is loud, but sometimes hollow.
Chameleons blended in. They attend meetings, follow the motions, but youâd struggle to remember their contribution. Always there, but rarely felt.
And of course, the catsâindependent and brilliant, but on their own terms. You never know if they'd purr through a task or walk away entirely. When they deliver, it is genius. When they donât, itâs radio silence.
Overall, in every workplace, there are some you could set your
watch byâtheir works are always early, crisp, and clean. But others; they need nudging, prodding, or even a foghorn. Some thrive with
freedom; others need a chaperone. Together, they form a sometimes, "chaotic",
often brilliant, always human ecosystem in the workplace.
A Gentle Breeze in a Heavy Room
The organisation had all these personalities. Each one contributing to the
organizationâs rhythm in their own way. It was this blend of characters that
gave the place its complexity, its frustrations, and ultimately, its beauty. In
a system that thrived on people power, one of those personalities stood outânot
for their technical genius or strategic brilliance, but for something rarer:
warmth.
Zed had long been part of the organisation's story. He had
served diligently as a community worker and field coordinator. Warm, reliable, cheerful. In meetings, heâd ask
who was absent before starting. He brought coffee for new staff, offered
support during tough weeks or rough times, and had a laugh that could melt even
the iciest week.
He was the kind of colleague who made the office
feel less like work and more like fun.
So, when the opportunity came to promote from
within, Zed was among those chosen to move into a Project Manager role. On the surface, it felt like a natural step.
But in time, we came to see the mismatch. What looked like alignment on paper turned out to be different in practice. It was like asking a summer breeze to lift an anchorâgentle, good-hearted, but never built for that kind of weight.
Role Fit For The Rhythm
Some people shine in the sun, but wilt under spotlights. Zed was brilliant in human connection, but project management requires a different kind of wiringâstructure, initiative, precision, accountability.
At first, his gaps were easy to overlook. His charisma softened the edges of missed deadlines. His charm explained away overlooked details. His kindness made people want to help him catch up.
But charm doesnât
keep a timeline. And charisma wonât balance a budget.
Slowly, things
began to slip. Reports were late. Budgets didnât align. Project assessments
were shallow. Colleagues found themselves working around Zed. And still, his smiles remained. But the work didnât.
It was like
asking a gifted mechanic to handle plumbing. He may hold the right tools, but
every adjustment only made the leak worse.
It Fell Apart Quietly
Each moment defined
and highlighted the shortcomings.
We had spent
months preparing for a critical project. A biddersâ conference, a mandatory
requirement, stood between us and the next phase.
Zed didnât attend.
He said he wasnât
sure if he needed to. But as the Project Manager, the
responsibility was his.
Just like that,
we were disqualified. Months of preparation, gone in a moment. Not with a bang,
but with a shrug.
It wasnât
dramatic. It was just... quiet. Like watching a vase fall in slow motion. You
reach out, but youâre too late. And when it shatters, the silence says
everything.
Trust in our
systems, in our decision-making, in each other was challenged.
đ§Rebuilding from the Inside
The missed opportunity wasnât an isolated event. However, it exposed deeper cracks in how we matched people to roles.
Around the same time, the organisation was undergoing an institutional renewalâreviewing structures, reassessing leadership, and redefining what excellence looked like. It was also the period when I was appointed to lead the organization and steward that renewal plan. With fresh responsibility came the challenge of turning vision into structure, and structure into progress. As part of the effort, we audited capacity, reinvested in staff development, and offered targeted support aimed at aligning people, purpose, and performance.
Many rose to the challenge. They adapted,
upskilled, asked for coaching, and flourished.
But some didnât.
Not because they didnât care, but because they were in the wrong lane.
Training worksâusually. But you canât teach a fish to run; nor should you!
Zed wasnât lazy or unmotivated. He was quietly exhaustedâtrying to be something he wasnât, in a role that didnât let him breathe. And sometimes, that struggle is invisible⊠until itâs not.
Redirection, Not Rejection
Eventually, we
had a choice: continue waiting for a duck to soarâor let it swim where it
thrives.
We chose the
latter.
After open
conversations, honest reflection, and mutual agreement, Zed was reassigned to
an operational
coordination roleâpaired with a precise, detail-focused
manager. Zed brought cohesion and empathy; his counterpart brought structure
and timelines.
And something
shifted.
Zed came alive
again. He found his rhythm. He delivered with quiet confidence. The very
qualities that made him struggle in one role became his superpower in another.
He was no longer compensating, he was contributing.
Over a corporate event,
he smiled and said, I was drowning quietly. Iâm glad someone helped. I was glad too.
The Quiet Power of Good Leadership
Zedâs journey
reminds me that leadership isnât about assigning roles and waiting for
performance. Itâs about aligning people with their strengths and giving them
space to thrive.
Itâs not about
micromanaging for resultsâitâs about seeing potential beyond titles, listening
between the lines, making room for failure without shame, and choosing
redirection over reprimand when the moment calls for grace.
In every
organization, there are crownsâtitles, roles, expectations. But not every head
is built to carry a heavy crown. Some shine brighter when the weight is
adjustedâjust enough for them to rise.
And when leaders
pay attentionâeven a quiet, broken note can find its harmony again.