What our decisions say on our behalf
“We think we are drafting a procedure; sometimes we are signing a confession.”
The misdirected investigation
It happens that an excellent team member quietly stops being excellent. No misconduct, no conflict, no resignation letter: just a slow erosion, the kind dashboards record without understanding.
The manager is concerned, opens an investigation and, with the confident judgement that habit brings, summons the obvious suspect: the other person. Fatigue, motivation and pay are all questioned. The alibis hold. One witness is never questioned, for a simple reason: he presides over the court.
Rules talk
A rule believes it is silent. It sees itself as a procedure, a form, a safeguard. In reality it is talkative: it tells everyone what we think of them. Requiring people to come and ask for permission is never a mere administrative detail. It is a sentence no one has spoken and everyone has heard.
The manager judges his rule by its intention. His team judges it by its subtext. Between the two lies a quiet space where, with no witness, part of the revenue goes missing.
Fear in a suit
That leaves the question we readily ask others and rarely ask ourselves: where does the rule come from? From a fact, an abuse, a figure? Or from a worry that never dared to say its name?
Fear has the elegance never to show up naked. It dresses up as rigour, as governance, as “best practice”. It signs internal memos with remarkable aplomb. And the person wearing it believes he is being prudent when he is merely anxious. We think we are drafting a procedure; sometimes we are signing a confession.
The price of silence
The conscious effect of a decision has the merit of frankness: it protests, it objects, it slams a door. We see it, we deal with it. The unconscious effect is far more courteous. It contests nothing. It withdraws, a little. It commits a little less where it should fight a little harder. And it costs, without ever sending an invoice.
The irony is perfect: the rule meant to protect the margin ends up eating into it, with the discretion of a model employee.
McGregor saw it coming: the boss convinced that his people must be watched ends up creating people who need watching. The prophecy fulfils itself, which always flatters the prophet, and rarely the income statement.
In praise of control, properly understood
Make no mistake: this is not about handing out blank cheques like flyers. Control is a duty, and trust that refuses it is merely negligence with good manners.
But not all control has the same grammar. Control that comes before the act says: “justify yourself”. Control that comes after it says: “report back”. The first creates petitioners, the second creates people who take responsibility. Both control; only one lets people work.
Questions without answers, on purpose
This text will not conclude. Having questioned imposed rules, it would be out of place to impose one. It simply leaves a few questions on the desk:
- Was my last rule a response to a fact, or to a fear?
- What did I mean, and what did they hear?
- When a good team member fades, have I looked at what I myself have switched off?
- And what if the real threat to my authority were not the employee who is too free, but my fear that he might be?
To lead is to decide. To lead well is also to hear what our decisions say on our behalf.