It arrives with fresh notebooks, ambitious plans, renewed confidence, and that familiar belief that this year will be different. The calendar resets, the coffee tastes more hopeful, and for a brief moment, everything feels possible.
But most years don’t fail because people lack ambition. They fail because energy fades — and discipline doesn’t step in to replace it. That’s the curveball no one likes to acknowledge.
Every January comes with enthusiasm. Very few years come with follow-through. We confuse movement with progress and busyness with effort. We plan carefully, speak confidently, and promise ourselves that we’ll really commit this time. And then life happens. February arrives. The work gets uncomfortable. The easy tasks become tempting again.
Integrity, in those moments, isn’t loud or performative. It doesn’t announce itself in meetings or social posts. Integrity shows up quietly when no one is watching, in the decisions we make when it would be easier to opt out. It asks uncomfortable questions: Did my effort match my goals? Was I doing the right work, or simply staying busy? Did I respect myself enough to give my goals a genuine chance?
Excellence doesn’t come from inspiration. Inspiration is unreliable. Excellence comes from repetition — from choosing the hard task over the easy one, consistently, even when motivation has disappeared. It’s making the call you don’t feel like making, having the conversation you’d rather delay, and doing the work that doesn’t come with recognition. Excellence is often boring. And that’s precisely why it works.
Innovation, too, is often misunderstood. It’s not about working longer hours or pushing harder at the same habits. Innovation asks a different question: Is how I’m working actually effective? Working harder on the wrong things isn’t commitment; it’s avoidance disguised as effort. Sometimes growth doesn’t require more energy — it requires better thinking, better systems, and the courage to change what’s familiar.
Peace of mind is not something we stumble into. It isn’t found in hope or intention. It’s earned through honest effort. There’s a quiet weight that comes from knowing you could have done more, and an equally quiet relief that comes from knowing you tried — even when the outcome wasn’t perfect. Peace of mind comes from effort you don’t have to explain away.
This matters because we don’t get draft versions of our lives. There’s no rehearsal career, no reset button on missed discipline or avoided effort. We get one life, one career, and one set of choices that compound over time, whether we’re paying attention or not.
So before the year speeds up — before the goals blur, the excuses creep in, and January energy fades — it’s worth pausing to ask a simple question: Will this year be led, or will it be allowed to happen?
Because when the year ends, results won’t remember how good our intentions were.
You don’t just manage the conversation. You grow the person.
Every now and then, you stumble upon a psychological model that doesn’t just make sense — it changes your entire approach to people, communication, conflict, leadership, and even the voices in your own head.
For me, Transactional Analysis did exactly that.
Developed in the late 1950s by Dr. Eric Berne, this deceptively simple framework has guided boardrooms, therapy rooms, classrooms, marriages, and more recently — my own conversations with colleagues, clients, family members, and the occasional fully grown adult behaving like a toddler in an inversion table of emotions.
You know the ones.
The beauty of Transactional Analysis, or TA, is that it offers a way to understand why people speak the way they do and how you can shift the tone of any interaction from power struggle or sulking to calm, constructive, adult-level problem-solving.
It gives you a way to manage conversations without manipulation, manage yourself without meltdown, and manage others without turning into a condescending schoolteacher. (Unless, of course, they’re acting like a child. In which case: we’ll get to that.)
Let’s break it down — simply, practically, and with a few curveballs along the way.
The Three Modes We All Switch Between
TA says we all communicate from one of three Ego States:
Parent
Adult
Child
These aren’t roles, ages, or diagnoses. They’re states — temporary lenses you slip into depending on stress, habit, or the emotional landscape of the moment.
And just like that, interactions become predictable patterns.
1. The Parent State
This can come in two flavours:
Critical Parent: “Why didn’t you do this properly?” “I told you how to do this.” “You never listen.”
Tone: sharp, instructive, superior, bossy, sometimes unintentionally belittling.
Nurturing Parent: “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.” “Shame, let me fix it for you.”
Tone: warm but potentially smothering; often creates dependency.
2. The Child State
Also two flavours:
Compliant/Dependent Child: “Okay… whatever you say.” “I can’t do this.” “Please just help me.”
Tone: helpless, avoidant, overly obedient, seeks approval or rescue.
Rebellious Child: “Don’t tell me what to do.” “This is stupid.” Door-slamming optional.
Tone: defensive, emotional, dramatic, often irrational.
3. The Adult State
Now we’re talking.
Logical
Calm
Solution-focused
Present
Curious rather than reactive
This is the state you want to be in for 95% of your professional life… and at least 70% of your personal life if you’d like to stay happily married.
Adult-adult communication is where clarity, problem-solving, and mutual respect live.
Why Conversations Go Wrong
Most conflicts don’t happen because people are bad, dramatic, or difficult. They happen because:
Someone slips into Parent → The other drops into Child or Someone slips into Child → The other rises into Parent
You get a seesaw of power and emotion.
And suddenly… the fully grown adult across from you is pouting, lashing out, or waiting to be rescued, and you — despite your best intentions — have turned into their mother, teacher, or headmistress.
No wonder conversations spiral.
The Magic of TA: You Can Shift Any Conversation
The real power of Transactional Analysis lies in this truth:
You can pull any interaction back into the Adult state — simply by going there first.
Let’s say a manager storms in:
Critical Parent Mode: “This report is all wrong! Why didn’t you follow instructions?”
Your instinct might be:
Child: “I tried my best… sorry.”
Parent: “Well maybe your instructions weren’t clear!”
Both will escalate.
But if you slip into Adult, calmly and intentionally, you change the game:
Adult: “Thanks for the feedback. Let’s look at it together and see where the misunderstanding happened.”
Instant shift. His emotional temperature drops because you’re not feeding the fire.
Or— A colleague arrives in helpless Child mode:
“I can’t do this. It’s too hard. I never understand what they want.”
Your instinct might be to go Parent:
“Okay, let me show you. Again.”
But this reinforces dependency. It keeps them small, emotional, and reliant on you.
Instead:
Adult: “Let’s break it down together. What’s the first step that makes sense to you?”
Suddenly they’re standing with you, not below you. You’re co-adults — competent, capable, engaged.
The tone shifts. The energy shifts. The power dynamic shifts.
TA in Real Life: How to Transform the People Around You
This is where things get juicy.
One of the gifts of TA is that you can help someone move from bratty or helpless Child mode into confident, empowered Adult mode.
Not by lecturing. Not by scolding. Not by rescuing.
But by holding the space as an Adult yourself.
Some examples:
When a client throws a tantrum:
“They never fixed this properly! This is ridiculous!”
You: “Let’s go through it step by step and see how we can resolve it.”
When an agent gets defensive:
“That’s not my fault! Nobody told me!”
You: “Let’s figure out what information was missing and how we can prevent that next time.”
When a contractor acts helpless:
“I don’t know what else you expect me to do.”
You: “What are the possible solutions from here?”
When a friend needs rescuing:
“What must I do? Tell me!”
You: “What options do you see?”
Every Adult-state question is a ladder. People can climb out of their emotional ditch and stand with you — equal, responsible, clear-minded.
It’s one of the most quietly powerful leadership tools you will ever use.
Using TA on Yourself
Perhaps the biggest secret of TA is this:
You don’t just have Parent/Adult/Child conversations with others… You have them with yourself.
“You’re not good enough.” (Critical Parent)
“Someone else should fix this for me.” (Child)
“Let’s think this through rationally.” (Adult)
Your internal state determines your external tone.
If you want your conversations to change, your inner dialogue must change first.
To settle your own inner Child: “You’re scared. That’s okay. Let’s take a breath.”
To dim your inner Critical Parent: “Perfection isn’t the goal. Progress is.”
To strengthen your Adult: “What’s the next logical step?”
Adult is not emotionless. It’s responsible, steady, and clear.
And people respond to that energy instantly.
The Ultimate Goal: Co-Adult Relationships
Whether you’re leading a team, raising teenagers, managing clients, or navigating family dynamics, TA gives you the power to:
calm chaos
de-escalate conflict
dissolve defences
reduce drama
empower people
keep conversations productive
maintain dignity and respect on both sides
The goal isn’t dominance or obedience. It’s partnership.
Two adults standing side by side, solving the world (or at least the current problem) together.
That’s where relationships thrive. That’s where confidence grows. That’s where trust is built.
And — perhaps most beautifully — that’s where you help people step out of dependent, dramatic, childlike patterns and into their own strength.
You don’t just manage the conversation. You grow the person.
And that is leadership.
Two adults standing side by side can solve almost anything.
We all know the snob in the room — the person who seems to float past everyone else with that subtle air of superiority, as if human connection is optional and the rest of us should feel honoured to breathe the same oxygen. But here’s the twist: the real power never belongs to that person. It belongs to the one who chooses connection over comparison, contribution over calculation, and authenticity over image. It belongs to the human who walks into a room not to rank people, but to relate to them.
We’ve all encountered the other kind. They enter a space with the precision of a scanner, quietly assessing who is “worth” their time, their conversation, or their attention. Their greeting depends not on warmth but on title, reputation, or perceived value. For them, “What do you do?” is not curiosity — it’s a measurement tool. Some flaunt a superior education. Some cling to a family name as if it were an access card. Others parade property portfolios like they’re auditioning for a glossy magazine. And some simply behave as though the world rotates at a special angle just for them. The saddest reality is that most of these people are not intentionally cruel; they’re just empty inside. They’re standing on ladders built on comparison, and those ladders are always fragile.
This transactional mindset shows up everywhere — in boardrooms, social circles, networking events, family gatherings, and even in casual daily encounters. People walk into conversations mentally rehearsing questions like: What can I get from this person? Who here is worth my attention? How can I position myself to their advantage? It’s an exhausting way to live, not only for the person doing it but for everyone forced to interact with them. Ironically, this approach never produces deep opportunity, genuine connection, or meaningful relationships. People aren’t transactions to process or leverage, and connection isn’t a currency to trade. It’s no wonder that the transactional networker leaves spaces with pockets full of business cards but hearts devoid of relationships.
Now imagine flipping the script entirely. Instead of entering an interaction asking what someone can offer you, imagine approaching every conversation with the simple question: How can I add value here? Not in a draining, self-sacrificing kind of way, but in a grounded, open, quietly generous way that says, “I’m here to connect, not to consume.” Maybe your contribution is encouragement or insight. Maybe you can introduce someone to a person they need to meet. Maybe you can share something that helps, uplifts, or reassures. Maybe your presence simply creates space for someone else to feel seen. Contribution doesn’t require wealth, status, influence, or a name engraved on the gates of an exclusive estate. It requires intention. It requires attention. It requires a willingness to be human first and impressive later — if ever.
The beautiful thing about showing up this way is that the wheel always turns. People remember who made them feel valued rather than assessed. They gravitate toward those who treat them with dignity regardless of their title or circumstances. They return to the ones who were kind even when no one was watching. The transactional networker might accumulate contacts, but the person who leads with connection builds community. And community — not contacts — is what sustains careers, relationships, and reputations over the long term.
Let’s speak to the elephant lounging in the corner of this elegant room: superiority is not a sign of strength. The people who walk around convinced they are above others — too wealthy, too successful, too educated, too connected to bother with ordinary humans — are not thriving. They are performing. Superiority is almost always a costume worn over insecurity. Arrogance is a mask constructed to hide a sense of inadequacy. Detachment exists to protect fragile egos. Snobbery is simply loneliness wrapped in designer packaging. Truly grounded, fulfilled people don’t need to posture. They don’t need to rank themselves or anyone else. They don’t need to win the room because they are at ease within themselves. And because they are whole, they give easily, engage effortlessly, and uplift naturally. It is the hollow ones who rely on status to fill the silence.
Authenticity, on the other hand, wins every single time. We live in a world that sparkles with performance, where impressions can be manufactured and appearances can be carefully edited. But authenticity hums quietly beneath the noise — and it draws people in more deeply than any polished façade. While so many chase recognition or validation, the ones who stand out are those who invest in relationship rather than reputation. Success built on image collapses the moment the image cracks. Success built on genuine connection lasts decades. We say it often and it remains true every time: fake fails. Maybe not immediately, but eventually — always. Authenticity is the opposite. It compounds. It grows roots. It extends outward. It returns multiplied. When you show up as your real self, people relax. They trust. They open doors. They introduce you to others. They remember you for the right reasons. You don’t have to perform or pretend or constantly prove your worth. You simply have to show up sincerely, kindly, and with the willingness to contribute something meaningful.
Life has an extraordinary way of balancing its own scales. Those who invest in people always win in the long run. Those who uplift others rise effortlessly without having to climb over anyone. Those who lead with generosity receive more than they ever give. And those who move through the world with entitlement, ego, or extraction eventually find themselves standing alone in rooms full of acquaintances but devoid of true connection.
So the next time you meet someone — any someone — resist the instinct to evaluate what they can offer you. Instead, wonder what you can offer them. It transforms conversations. It deepens relationships. And ultimately, it transforms you. Because the wheel turns. Kindness returns. And authenticity will always, always win.
Candy floss looks magical… until you realise it’s just colourful air. Some company cultures are exactly the same. If your company culture tastes sweet at first but leaves you dizzy, sticky, and slightly nauseous… congratulations, you’ve joined the Candy Floss Club.
There’s something magical about candy floss at a funfair. It’s fluffy, colourful, irresistible, and somehow manages to make us feel both six years old and on top of the world. Joining a new company often feels exactly the same. You take one look at the gorgeous colours swirling in the air — the branding, the smiles, the onboarding presentations, the inspirational slogans printed on coffee mugs — and you think, Wow. I have hit the jackpot. Everything smells amazing, tastes incredible, and shines with the kind of promise that feels almost unbelievable. For a moment, you genuinely wonder why the universe waited this long to bless you.
That’s the thing about candy floss — and company culture. The first taste is always spectacular.
But here’s the uncomfortable truth no one warns you about: the more of it you have, the more you start to feel slightly ill. Not dramatically ill. Not “call an ambulance, I regret everything” ill. Just that subtle, nagging sense that maybe — just maybe — sugar alone is not enough to live on. After a few fluffy bites, you realise it’s all the same sweetness, no matter how gorgeous the colour. Pink? Blue? Neon green? Surprise rainbow swirl? It doesn’t matter. It all melts down to the same sticky, overly familiar sameness.
And culture can be like that too.
When you first join a company, everything feels enchanting. The values sparkle. The vision inspires. The team WhatsApp group feels like a lively party you’re finally invited to. But as time passes, you begin to notice whether the culture actually has substance… or whether it’s just spun sugar. Beautiful to look at. Fun for a moment. But ultimately offering no nourishment, no depth, and no staying power.
The thing about candy floss is that it looks enormous — like a cloud you could live inside — but once you take a bite, it shrinks into nothing. Some company cultures work the same way. They appear grand, overflowing with promise, but when you really taste them, they offer little more than air and hyperactivity. Busy calendars instead of meaningful contribution. Inspirational posters instead of genuine purpose. Team-building exercises instead of real trust. A rainbow of colours hiding a single, unchanging flavour.
And if you leave candy floss out in the air long enough? It collapses into a sad, hardened clump that nobody wants and has to be thrown away. Corporate cultures that rely exclusively on hype, sparkle, and branding eventually do the same. They harden. They become rigid. Innovation dries up. Morale stiffens. People stop showing up fully, because nothing new is allowed to grow. A culture that once felt vibrant becomes a sticky lump of nostalgia, repetition, and “this is just the way we do things.”
The secret to a thriving workplace isn’t avoiding candy floss — it’s refusing to only eat candy floss.
A great company doesn’t remove the magic. It doesn’t suck out the fun. It doesn’t replace the bright colours with beige walls and passive-aggressive memos. A great company keeps the candy floss — the excitement, the novelty, the sparkle — but also lets you try the rest of the funfair. It understands that no human being can thrive on sweetness alone. It offers substance, nourishment, variety, and space to wander.
Think of it like this:
A good company lets you have the candy floss. A great company lets you choose your flavours. An extraordinary company lets you wander through the entire funfair and decide which rides matter for your life and your career.
You can hop onto the rollercoaster of growth when you feel bold. Stroll into the hall of mirrors and confront your blind spots when you’re ready. Grab popcorn for slow seasons. Hold onto the carousel pole when everything feels overwhelming and you just need something steady. And — most importantly — step out of the gates and go home to your family before returning the next day with fresh eyes and a fresh spirit.
A healthy culture doesn’t demand that you stay in the funfair until closing time, dizzy and sugar-drunk. It knows when to let you rest. It knows life exists outside the gates. It respects that you are a person, not a performer.
Effective cultures are not made of big gestures or cotton-candy promises. They are built on substance — trust, autonomy, flexibility, kindness, clarity, and the freedom to grow in the direction that feels right for you. They give you space to choose your path, pick your experiences, develop your strengths, and live your life without guilt.
So when you’re choosing a workplace, don’t just look for the bright sugar swirl that dazzles you at first glance. Look for what happens after the sweetness wears off. Look for the leadership that nourishes. Look for the team that supports growth. Look for the freedom to explore, the wisdom to rest, and the opportunity to taste more than one flavour. Look for the places that don’t just hand you candy floss — they hand you the map to the funfair.
Because the truth is simple: Candy floss is wonderful… but no one thrives on sugar alone. Find the culture that feeds your spirit, not just your senses. Find the place that lets you be whole.
And when you do? You’ll keep coming back — not for the colours, but for the substance.
Leadership isn’t about titles, corner offices, or how loudly you can speak in a meeting. It’s about who you are when no one’s watching — and how you show up for others when things get hard.
As leaders, we’re not looking for perfection. We’re looking for potential — and the character that turns it into something remarkable.
What We Do Look For
We look for initiative — the person who doesn’t wait for a memo to tell them what’s obvious. They see what needs doing and just get on with it. Bonus points if they do it without sighing loudly first.
We look for innovation — not the kind that involves writing “THINK OUTSIDE THE BOX” on a whiteboard, but the real kind — the one that finds new, better, smarter ways of doing things when the box is already on fire.
And we look for independence — the person who quietly gets things done while everyone else is still forming a committee about it. The one who can be trusted to handle it, fix it, or find a way through it — all without a daily pep talk.
Over and above this, they do an excellent job. They deliver unquestionable results in their area of expertise and others look up to them. They are an inspiration. A great example.
They buy into the vision and live the values. They help others see the vision and live the values.
These are the seeds of real leadership. They don’t always grow fast, but when they do, they change everything.
What We Don’t Look For
We don’t look for the team snitch — you know, the self-appointed “reporting channel” who mistakes gossip for initiative. If you spend more time narrating other people’s shortcomings than improving your own, spoiler alert: that’s not leadership.
We don’t look for arrogance disguised as ambition. The “I’m not bossy, I just have better ideas than everyone” type. Confidence is great — but humility looks better on everyone.
And we definitely don’t look for the person who steps on others to be seen. You can’t claim to be a leader when your team needs a first aid kit after every meeting.
The Humble Kind of Leadership
The best leaders are the ones who make others feel capable, valued, and seen. They don’t steal the spotlight; they share it. They celebrate the quiet wins, support their team through the storms, and never forget that leadership is a privilege — not a power play.
True leadership is humble, human, and deeply supportive. It’s less about control and more about contribution.
The Curveball
If you want to lead, start by helping others succeed. Be the calm in the chaos, the voice of reason in the WhatsApp group, and the person who notices effort — not just errors.
Because true leaders don’t create followers; they create more leaders. And if you can do that with a bit of humility, humour, and heart — you’re already halfway there.
So close. The South African Women’s Cricket team — our incredible Proteas — made it all the way to the World Cup final. The skill? Undeniable. The discipline? Evident. The teamwork? Beautifully on display. They ticked every box on the “how to win” checklist.
And yet… they didn’t.
So what happened?
Let’s unpack this over a cup of coffee.
Skill, Discipline, Teamwork – and Belief
To win anything — a match, a deal, or even just the week — you need a combination of skill, discipline, teamwork, and belief. The Proteas had the first three nailed. You don’t get to a World Cup final without mastering those.
But belief — real, deep, goosebump-inducing belief — might have been the missing ingredient.
Their captain said the team was focused on taking “one game at a time.” Sensible? Absolutely. But did you ever hear them say, “We’re bringing the cup home”? Not quite. Compare that to the Springboks — a team that somehow makes you believe they’ll pull off the impossible… even when they’re trailing by 10 points with two minutes to go.
Is that belief a coaching thing? A mindset thing? A culture thing? Probably a bit of all three.
Medals vs Mindset
Here’s the hard truth: if you’re happy to get a medal — any medal — you’ll always lose. You might not even make the final. Winners don’t play for bronze or silver; they play to win.
You have to want it so badly you can taste it — like candyfloss at a funfair, sweet and irresistible. That kind of hunger gives you the energy to dig deep, to stay in the nets when everyone else has gone home, to deliver exceptional results no matter what’s needed. That’s the difference between participating and owning the moment.
When One Player Drops the Ball
In any team — sports or workplace — the magic only works when everyone pitches up on the day. One person off their game can shift the whole dynamic. Two crucial dropped catches and a duck from a key player might have cost the Proteas that final.
It’s not about blame — it’s reality. In the workplace, one “off day” from a key team member can derail a project, a pitch, or a deal. That’s why preparation, mindset, and mutual belief matter just as much as technical skill. The chain really is only as strong as its weakest link.
Back in the Office
So how does this play out in our world of coffee cups and client calls?
Skill is your knowledge and expertise. Keep learning, stay sharp.
Discipline is your daily grind — the calls you make, the reports you finish, the consistency that builds credibility.
Teamwork is what keeps the wheels turning when things get tough.
Belief is the secret sauce. The quiet confidence that says, “We’ve got this.”
If your team believes — really believes — that they can hit their targets, close the deal, or turn a challenge into a win, magic happens.
And if not? Well… sometimes, like the Proteas, you play a beautiful game and fall just short. But the lesson is never wasted — because next time, you walk onto that field (or into that boardroom) not just hoping to win, but knowing you can.
In a world that rewards noise, being quiet can feel like you’re being overlooked. Social feeds shout “Look at me!” louder than ever, and sometimes it feels like success only counts if it’s seen.
But here’s the truth — real confidence doesn’t need a microphone.
The Power of Quiet Confidence
You don’t have to be the loudest voice in the room to be the most respected. Confidence isn’t about volume; it’s about knowledge and clarity. It’s knowing your worth without needing to announce it.
Humble confidence walks in, delivers value, builds trust, and lets results do the talking. It’s not shy — it’s steady. It doesn’t chase validation — it earns admiration.
The Trap of Loud Success
The temptation to be seen is real — especially in real estate. Every listing, every deal, every milestone feels like it needs to be broadcast to prove you’re relevant.
But loud doesn’t always mean lasting. Sometimes the agents who shine brightest on screen fade fastest in reality. We all know the saying, empty vessels make the most noise.
The ones who endure are the ones who serve with quiet consistency — the ones who celebrate success without arrogance, and lift others even as they climb.
The True Reflection of Excellence
Humility isn’t weakness — it’s wisdom. It’s the discipline to stay grounded when the spotlight finds you, and gracious when it moves on.
True professionals know that success isn’t a performance; it’s a pattern. You can be visible without being vain. You can be confident without being loud.
Because real excellence doesn’t shout — it shows. Real excellence celebrates others and takes them on the journey.
The Authentic Edge
Authenticity is the heartbeat of humility. It’s not pretending to be less than you are — it’s being real about who you are. It’s knowing your strengths, owning your story, and never needing to fake the highlight reel.
When you work or lead with authenticity, people feel it. They trust you faster, stay longer, and follow your lead — not because you’re loud, but because you’re real.
The Curveball
In an age obsessed with visibility, choose authenticity. Build your reputation on substance, not spectacle.
Be kind. Be confident. Be humble. And let your results make the noise.
Because coffee is essential for survival, culture makes or breaks a business, and life… well, life always throws a few curveballs.
There’s a reason the phrase “one bad apple spoils the bunch” has survived for centuries. It’s not just something your grandmother muttered while glaring at your teenage friends — it’s also one of the most brutally accurate business lessons you’ll ever learn.
Because here’s the truth: one wrong hire can unravel everything. The wrong person in your team doesn’t just slow things down. They don’t just cause a little drama. They rot. Slowly, subtly, but inevitably. And once the rot sets in, it spreads.
The mistake leaders often make is thinking they can manage the apple into ripening. They polish it, they reframe it, they even try putting it next to fresher apples hoping the good ones will rub off. Spoiler: it doesn’t work. A rotten apple doesn’t become fresh — it just takes the rest down with it.
Keeping the wrong hire feels easier than dealing with it. You tell yourself their skills outweigh their attitude. You hope they’ll “come around.” You convince yourself that one person can’t possibly influence the entire culture. (They can. And they will. Usually faster than you think.)
It starts small
They cut a corner here, they roll their eyes there. They make a sarcastic comment in a meeting, and suddenly the energy in the room shifts. They miss deadlines, and the rest of the team lowers their pace to match. Before you know it, the culture you worked so hard to build has bent around them like a tree leaning toward a rotten branch.
And here’s the kicker: when that apple finally leaves, the rot doesn’t go with them. Clients remember the bad experience. The team remembers the tension. And your leadership credibility takes a hit, because everyone wonders the same thing: why didn’t you deal with it sooner?
That’s why firing fast isn’t ruthless — it’s responsible. It’s kinder to the team, kinder to the business, and yes, even kinder to the individual. Keeping someone who doesn’t fit your values is like keeping a goldfish in a shark tank: they’re going to be stressed, miserable, and out of place until you finally scoop them out. Letting them go gives them the chance to find the pond where they actually belong.
We dress up inaction as compassion. We tell ourselves we’re “giving them another chance.” But let’s call it what it really is: avoidance. Because firing someone feels awkward. It’s confrontation. It’s paperwork. It’s uncomfortable. But the longer you avoid it, the more expensive it becomes — not just financially, but culturally.
And culture, unlike a P&L statement, doesn’t repair quickly. It takes years to build, and only a few months of one bad hire to unravel.
So how do you avoid finding yourself with a rotten apple in the first place? You hire for values before skills. Always. You can teach someone how to use a CRM. You can train someone on your systems. You can even coach performance. But you can’t teach integrity. You can’t teach humility. And you certainly can’t teach someone to stop being a know-it-all if that’s who they are at their core.
Recruitment isn’t about filling a seat. It’s about protecting the orchard. That means digging deeper than résumés and shiny interview answers. Ask questions that test values. Look for curiosity. Look for resilience. And if you see red flags? Don’t paint them green.
Because once the apple is in the bowl, dealing with it is a lot more painful than simply never putting it there in the first place.
Still, even the best leaders make mistakes. Everyone hires someone who turns out not to be the fit they hoped for. That’s part of leadership. The real test isn’t whether you’ll ever hire the wrong person — it’s how long you’ll tolerate them once you realise they’re the wrong person.
And here’s where the humour fades into hard truth: the faster you act, the faster the culture heals. The longer you delay, the more the rot spreads. A quick, clean decision might sting, but a slow, drawn-out one poisons the whole team.
It’s like pulling off a plaster. You can peel it off millimetre by millimetre, dragging out the pain, or you can just rip it. Either way, it’s coming off. Only one way makes sense.
The leadership lesson is blunt but clear: don’t keep rotten apples. Fire fast, hire intentionally, and protect the culture as if the entire business depends on it — because it does.
It may feel harsh in the moment, but in reality, it’s the kindest choice you can make. For your team, for your clients, and even for the apple itself. Because nobody wins when rot is allowed to spread.
So next time you’re tempted to “give it another month,” ask yourself one simple question: do you want to run a thriving orchard, or a compost heap?
Because coffee is essential for survival, culture makes or breaks a business, and life… well, life always throws a few curveballs.
Doing things the way they’ve always been done is comfortable. It’s familiar. It doesn’t ask too many questions, doesn’t demand too much effort, and lets everyone get on with their day without rocking the boat. It’s the business equivalent of ordering the same takeaway every Friday night — no surprises, no stress, and no chance of discovering something new.
The current way is proven, right? It got you this far. And yes, it requires less effort than sitting down to rethink how things could be better. But here’s the thing: “the way it’s always been done” has one big problem. At some point, it stops working. Dinosaurs did things the same way for a very long time too… and we know how that ended.
It’s easy to confuse “what worked yesterday” with “what will work tomorrow.” Businesses fall into this trap all the time. They perfect their systems, they polish their processes, and then they stop looking ahead. For a while, the results keep coming in, and everyone pats themselves on the back for sticking to the formula. But then the market shifts, technology evolves, customer expectations change — and suddenly the formula isn’t delivering. The dinosaur is still stomping around proudly, but the asteroid is already on the way.
Courage
Clinging to old ways feels safe. Innovation feels risky. It requires energy, creativity, and often investment. And sometimes it fails — which is terrifying for leaders who are trying to protect the business. But the bigger risk is not failing at innovation. The bigger risk is failing to innovate at all. Because in business, standing still is not neutral. Standing still is falling behind.
The danger is subtle at first. Maybe you lose a deal to a competitor who’s adopted new technology. Maybe your once-loyal clients drift toward someone who offers a slicker, more modern service. Maybe your team feels frustrated because they can see the world moving on, but leadership won’t budge from “the way we’ve always done it.” Eventually, the gap grows too wide to ignore. And what used to be a strength — your consistency, your predictability — becomes a weakness.
This is why leaders need to resist the comfort zone. A comfort zone is a great place to rest, but it’s a terrible place to build a business. Innovation doesn’t mean reinventing everything overnight. It means having the courage to ask uncomfortable questions. Is this process still working? Is there a smarter way to do this? Does this strategy prepare us for the next five years, or just get us through the next five months?
And let’s be clear: not all traditions are bad. Some old ways survive because they really do work. But they only stay effective because someone, at some point, checked whether they still made sense. The key isn’t to throw everything out; the key is to keep testing what you’ve got against the world you’re operating in. A business that refuses to test its assumptions is a business that’s waiting for extinction.
So yes, doing things the way you’ve always done them is easier. It’s the low-effort, low-risk option. But easy doesn’t build the future. Easy doesn’t differentiate you from competitors. Easy doesn’t inspire your team or excite your clients. Some leaders build teams around this and think they are doing a fabulous job. Easy is just… easy. And in business, easy almost always comes before irrelevant.
The challenge
The challenge for every leader is to balance the comfort of what works with the curiosity of what could work better. To resist the temptation of sitting in yesterday’s success and instead keep asking what tomorrow demands. Because in the end, the businesses that thrive are the ones that evolve. They adapt, they innovate, they embrace change. They don’t wait for the asteroid.
The leadership lesson is simple: don’t be a dinosaur. Respect the past, but don’t live in it. Keep moving forward, even if it’s uncomfortable. Especially if it’s uncomfortable. Because discomfort is the sign that you’re growing, while comfort is the sign that you’ve stopped. And in business, once you’ve stopped, it’s only a matter of time before you’re nothing more than a fossil.
You’ve probably heard the line: “Culture eats strategy for breakfast.” It’s one of those quotes that gets tossed around in boardrooms and LinkedIn posts. But here’s the thing — it’s true.
Now, don’t get me wrong. Strategy is important. Without it, you’re like a GPS with no destination plugged in — plenty of maps, but no idea where you’re going. But culture? Culture is the fuel in the tank. Without it, the car isn’t going anywhere.
Culture is how your team behaves when nobody’s watching. It’s the vibe in the office, the way your people talk to clients, and the unspoken rules about “how we do things around here.”
If your culture is toxic, even the most brilliant strategy won’t stick. It’s like planting a beautiful garden in concrete — you can water it, fertilise it, talk to the plants if you want… but nothing’s growing except perhaps the weeds.
On the flip side, if your culture is strong, your strategy finally has the soil it needs to take root and grow.
Culture doesn’t just “happen.” It’s shaped — by values and brand identity.
Values are your non-negotiables. The things you stand for.
Brand identity is how those values show up to the world. It’s not just your logo; it’s the promise you make to clients — and how your team lives that promise daily.
When your values and brand are clear, your strategy has direction. Without them, you’re just another business chasing targets with no real differentiator.
Here’s where most businesses stumble: tough times hit, and suddenly the temptation of “easy wins” takes over.
Drop prices just to land clients.
Take mandates for properties that are unlikely to sell. Lots of listings make us look busy and successful.
Copy what the competition is doing.
Cut corners.
And yes, the numbers might look good — for about five minutes. But in chasing easy wins, you risk blending in. You become just another face in the crowd. And in business, especially real estate, if you’re the same as everyone else… why should anyone choose you?
Differentiators are the Secret Weapon….Your differentiators are what make you stand out. But here’s the catch: differentiators only work if your team understands them and lives them. If even one person doesn’t buy in, the cracks show. And clients notice cracks faster than you think.
A sustainable business isn’t built on one-off wins; it’s built on consistency. Quick profits are great for bragging rights, but repeat clients and referrals are what keep the lights on long-term.
Sustainability means sometimes saying “no” to a deal that doesn’t align with your values. It means prioritising the brand’s reputation over short-term numbers. And yes, it means you’ll sleep better at night — which is worth more than a quick commission any day.
Wrapping it up
At the end of the day, strategy is what you plan. Culture is what you practice. And practice beats plans every time.
If you protect your culture — through hiring, decision-making, and client service — your strategy has the foundation it needs to succeed. If you compromise on culture, even the best strategy won’t save you.
Leadership lesson: Don’t hire anyone who doesn’t align with your differentiators and values. If you make a mistake and recruit someone who is not aligned, the culture will spit them out. The cost of a misaligned hire lasts far longer than their tenure. The right culture lasts long after the storm has passed.
Coffee, Culture and Curveballs 