When the environment changes faster than the instinct does.

I’m a very good driver.🚗 I scan constantly for wildlife, anticipate what other drivers are going to do, and I can drive stick. My husband agrees with none of this. Neither, historically, has the Texas Highway Patrol.🚨

I learned to drive in Sweden. My father taught me to watch the sides of the road constantly because a deer🦌, or considerably worse, a moose🫎 can come charging out of the woods with very little notice.

So you scan. And, when possible, you give yourself some room on the wildlife side of the road.

I have apparently continued doing this in Texas.

The other day, as I was kindly helping my husband drive from the passenger seat😇, I explained that I generally prefer to drive a little closer to the middle. It was a hint for him to drive in the middle lane... Just in case he didn't get my hint, I explained:

“In case an animal suddenly runs into the road.”

He went completely silent. Then he started laughing.

We were in DFW traffic. And he was about to exit the highway.

He pointed out that, under the circumstances, staying toward the right side of the lane might actually be the more useful strategy.

Fair.😒

There weren’t a lot of moose around.

We build our instincts in the places where those instincts make complete sense.

Maybe you learned from a former boss that you had to know every detail, because mistakes weren’t tolerated. Maybe you learned to move fast, because hesitation meant losing influence. Or you figured out the hard way to read the room before you said anything, because saying the wrong thing to the wrong person had consequences.

Those weren’t weaknesses. They were a big part of what made you successful.

The problem is that the environment changes faster than the instinct does. You get promoted. Your authority goes up. You inherit a stronger team, or a weaker one. You stop being the person who has to prove they belong in the room and become the person everyone else in the room is watching.

And you’re still doing all of it. Still reading every line of the deck the night before. Still answering the question that was put to someone else. Still explaining when nobody asked for an explanation.

Still scanning the tree line.

So the question I ask is almost never what are you doing wrong. It’s what are you still doing right, for a job you don’t have anymore.

Nobody tells you when to stop. There’s no meeting where someone says "that part is finished now, you can put it down". It worked for fifteen years and it got you here, so it keeps running. And the people around you keep treating you like the one who checks the work instead of the one who decides. /Ulrika