I walked into an organization a while back where two employees were in the middle of a heated conflict.
The issue? A piece of equipment...
Apparently, both needed to use it at the same time on the same day. But instead of working out a basic schedule, the tension had escalated, and it escalated quickly. Raised voices. Passive-aggressive emails. People digging in their heels.
Now, I’ve seen my fair share of workplace issues, but this seemed way overblown with a lot of overreaction.
Only later did I discover what was truly going on, and it wasn’t really about the equipment at all.
My friend Kim Harris told me:
Hysterical behavior means someone’s reacting with extreme emotion to a moment that, on the surface, doesn’t seem to warrant it. That kind of reaction usually has roots that go way deeper than what’s happening at the moment.
In this case, these two team members weren’t just battling over the one-time use of a piece of equipment.
They actually had years of unresolved tension. You know the types: snubs in meetings, ignored emails, competing for the same promotion. The current conflict wasn’t the cause, it was just the spark that lit a relational powder keg.
Organizational psychologist Adam Grant talks about the difference between task conflict and relational conflict.
And here’s the problem: most of the time, we treat everything like a task conflict. We try to fix the process, tweak the schedule, or mediate the surface issue.
But if the root is relational, then no task-based solution will ever solve it.
So what should leaders do?
First, pay attention to the emotion. If someone on your team is overreacting to something small, pause before you jump into solution mode.
Ask yourself: Is this about the moment or is this about the memory?
When emotion runs high, there’s probably a story beneath the surface. A time they felt overlooked, embarrassed, threatened, or dismissed.
If you lead with curiosity instead of control, you might discover what’s really going on—and actually help resolve the thing no one’s been willing to name.
Second, look below the surface. You don’t have to be a therapist to lead well.
But you do need to be emotionally intelligent enough to recognize that the biggest problems rarely show up with a name tag that says, “Hey, I’m a decades-old grudge dressed up like a scheduling conflict.”
And when you take the time to dig deeper you’ve take a step to defuse the hysteria.
When someone’s reaction doesn’t match the moment, don’t just ask, “What’s wrong with them?”
Ask, “What happened to them?”
Because if it feels hysterical, it’s probably historical.
And if you want to lead people well, you have to care enough to look beneath the surface.
Lately, I’ve been speaking a lot about authentic connection—the kind that builds trust with employees, loyalty with customers, and strength in leadership.
But here’s what I can’t stop thinking about: How do we stay deeply human in a world increasingly driven by artificial intelligence?
When it comes to AI, most people land in one of two extremes:
I believe both views are wrong.
AI isn’t a villain or a savior, it’s a tool.
And like any tool, its impact depends on how you use it.
As Gallup puts it: “AI excels at recognizing patterns and making predictions, but people provide the context, intuition, and ethics.”
Let me put it even more clearly:
That’s where the real magic happens.
Look at Delta Air Lines as an example. Their seatback screens greet you by name, remember your favorite movie, and pick up right where you left off. That’s not coincidence, it’s technology working behind the scenes to make the human experience smoother, warmer, and better.
Or take a healthcare company using AI to detect risks early. That breakthrough doesn’t replace doctors, but it arms them with personalized insights that lead to better conversations, better care, and better outcomes.
The goal isn’t to make machines more human, it’s to let machines free us up to be more human.
AI can be lightning-fast and data-smart—but it will never have what makes us truly human:
Empathy. Intuition. Ethics. Wisdom.
The question every leader should be asking: How can we use AI to deepen authentic human connection?
Technology doesn’t have to erase connection. Instead, it can empower it if we use it wisely.
So as you lead your team, grow your business, or raise your kids:
Authentic connection isn’t going away.It’s becoming the most valuable skill we’ve got. Let AI make you more human, not less.
Last week, I had lunch with a sharp young professional I’ve known for years. We first met when he went through one of ADDO’s leadership development programs we did alongside the Atlanta Braves. Even back then, his potential was obvious. In college, he led the largest on-campus philanthropy, served as president of his fraternity, and left behind a track record most people would be proud to hang their hat on.
Over the last year he’s stepped into his first full-time job—and he’s feeling something most leaders eventually encounter: the tension between humility and hubris.
Hubris is self-confidence, and at an appropriate level, it’s something he wants to bring into this next chapter. The assuredness to show future employers and teammates that he’s not just another recent grad.
At the same time, he’s also aware that the real world is different from campus life. There are people around him with decades more experience. He knows he has a lot to learn, and thus, needs to exhibit humility.
He asked, “How do I own what I bring to the table… without acting like I know everything?”
That question? That’s a leadership tension no one talks about enough.
It’s easy to slip too far in either direction.
Some leaders enter new spaces with a kind of magnetic swagger. They dominate the room. They lead with volume, not value. I’ve been there. When Garrett and I, along with two other great leaders, launched Global LEAD, we were young, bold, and brash. During an appearance on CNN they called us “the Peace Corps of the 21st Century.” Why? Because we asked them to!
Good branding? Sure.
A lot of hubris? You could say that.
If we’re not careful, we can slip into a mode where we forget how much we still have to learn. You start believing your own headlines. That’s hubris.
But the other danger? Swinging too far in the other direction.
The one where we underestimate our value and minimize our contributions.
It’s the leader who downplays their accomplishments, questions their readiness, and hesitates to speak up. They’re grounded, yes—but when the moment calls for clarity and confidence, they second-guess instead of step up.
Here’s the paradox:
Humility builds trust. Hubris builds belief.
And the very best leaders I know live in the space between the two.
They listen first—but they speak when it counts.
They’re grounded—but not silent.
They carry quiet confidence, not noisy arrogance.
Even Jesus—often portrayed as gentle and soft-spoken—flipped tables when it mattered. He was humble, but He never wavered in His convictions.
That young professional I had lunch with? He’s not alone. Every leader worth their salt wrestles with this. And it doesn’t go away with age or title.
So here’s my challenge to you:
Leadership will take you to incredible places—but it will also put a target on your back.
If you’ve led anything worth caring about for long, you’ve felt it. The sting of criticism. The frustration of being misunderstood. The unfair assumptions or harsh comments from people who don’t really know the full story.
But one story—one conversation, actually—has reframed how I think about criticism.
I’ve long been fascinated by C.S. Lewis, ever since I had the opportunity to visit St. Mary Magdalene’s College at Oxford, where he lived, taught, and mentored generations of students. Walking the same halls he once walked gave me a deeper appreciation for the man behind the writing—the thinker behind the theology.
And it was in that very dining hall where a moment unfolded that still speaks directly to leaders today.
During a visit to Oxford, Billy Graham, well known leader and evangelist, had a meal with Lewis. As they sat together, Lewis acknowledged something everyone already knew:
“You know, you have many critics…”
But then he followed it with this:
“…but I have never met one of your critics who knows you personally.”
That one line cuts deep.
Leadership often requires us to be visible—making decisions, taking stands, sharing messages. And visibility invites critique. That’s part of the deal.
But Lewis’s comment highlights something essential: criticism from people who don’t really know you is often more a reflection of them than of you.
People who know you—who walk with you, who have seen you in quiet moments, who know the values that guide you—they might still offer correction, but they do it with context, compassion, and clarity. They know your heart is to serve. To make a difference. To leave the world better than you found it.
That’s why one of the most powerful questions you can ask yourself when criticism comes is this:
If the answer is no, hold that critique loosely. Don’t ignore it—but don’t let it weigh you down more than it should.
If the answer is yes, then listen. Not all criticism is wrong. In fact, some of the hardest truths come from people who love us deeply. But even then, you’ll know it’s spoken from a place of wanting to build you up, not tear you down.
It’s easy to become jaded. To let cynicism creep in as the voices of criticism get louder. But that’s not the path of great leaders.
They let feedback refine them, not define them.
Billy Graham didn’t let the critics stop him. And neither should you. Listen to criticism, acknowledge it, and allow it to make you better. While it can inform you, it shouldn’t shape you.
So, if you’re facing criticism today—especially from those who’ve never shared a meal with you, never walked a mile in your shoes, never stayed up late wrestling through decisions with you—remember the wisdom of Lewis:
“I have never met one of your critics who knows you personally.”
You’re not called to lead for the approval of strangers. You’re called to lead with conviction, with courage, and with a heart that genuinely desires to change the world.
Keep going.
One day, you’ll look back and realize: these were the good old days.
This morning, I woke up at the beach with my family. Sounds perfect, right? But the reality is three kids under six, sand in everything, someone always crying, and me wondering how we’ll survive the day. It’s beautiful chaos—and I know I’ll miss it.
I struggle with being fully present. Part of me misses the past. The other part is chasing the future. Do you ever feel that?
I catch myself reminiscing about college or the early hustle of my career. I also find myself thinking, *when the diapers are gone… when we’ve paid off that loan… when I hit the next goal—*then life will be better, easier, more fulfilling.
But here’s the problem:
Think about it. The parent juggling screaming kids and a broken appliance feels buried in stress. But years later, they’d give anything to have one more day with little ones who still need them. Or the founder pulling late nights, stressed about payroll—later they’ll miss the tight-knit team, the energy, the shared mission of building something from scratch.
We tend to romanticize the past and idealize the future. Meanwhile, we miss the magic of right now.
And here’s the truth:
These exhausting, noisy, messy days at the beach? I’ll miss them. I’ll miss being the center of my kids’ world. I’ll miss the way my 6-year-old lights up over a seashell, the way my 4-year-old still reaches for my hand, the way my toddler squeals with joy every time a wave hits.
We’re not promised a perfect life. But we are given fleeting, priceless moments.
So wherever you are—whether you're in the thick of parenting, building something from nothing, or just trying to make it through the week—don’t miss this.
Pause. Notice. Soak it in.
Because one day, sooner than you think, you’ll realize: these were the good old days.
Have you ever looked at someone on your team and thought, "Are they still the right fit?"
Or maybe the mirror asked you the tougher question: "Am I still the right fit for this role?"
A few weeks ago, my friend Mike Linch invited me to an event where leadership legend Sam Chand shared something that stopped me in my tracks. He introduced a framework that gives language to something every leader feels but struggles to articulate.
The sweet spot in any role lives at the intersection of three things: Skill, Will, and Thrill.
Let’s talk about thrill, because when thrill subsides, everything else starts to slip.
Sam said it best:
“When the thrill goes away, it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person—just the wrong person.”
Thrill is that fire you can’t fake.
It’s the spark in someone’s eyes when they talk about their work.
It’s showing up on Monday excited, not just obligated.
And here's the kicker:
When the thrill is gone, people don’t always lose competence—they lose connection.
They stop dreaming. Stop questioning. Stop risking.
They deliver...but without the magic.
But get this: that same person, when re-aligned with the right role, can go from barely hanging on to completely on fire.
So ask yourself:
And leaders—pay attention:
Thrill isn’t just a perk. It’s a signal. It tells you who’s aligned and who’s adrift.
And when you’re hiring, don’t just look for resumes and references.
Listen for passion. Look for spark.
Ask: “What work makes you come alive?”
If they hesitate... that tells you something.
Here’s the bottom line:
When all three align?
That’s when teams fly.
That’s when cultures thrive.
That’s when people do the best work of their lives.
So don’t just ask if your people are good.
Ask if they’re right—right role, right time, right energy.
Because when the thrill is gone... it’s time for a conversation.
One of the most frequent conversations I have with leaders goes something like "Kevin, I'd love to start my own venture!
That conversation is typically followed up with a laundry list of obstacles. “However, I don't have the capital... the connections... the degree... the family name."
I believe there’s a myth in the business world that keeps talented potential entrepreneurs trapped on the sidelines. It’s a subtle lie that whispers: "You need resources to succeed."
Let me be clear: Resources are not bad. If you have access to capital, a strong network, or unique connections, these are legitimate advantages and you ought to leverage them and use them wisely. But they're not prerequisites for success. Let me share a little of my story…
When we launched ADDO, we had:
What we did have was a legitimate solution to a legitimate problem—and the resourcefulness to figure it out step by step.
Today, I’m honored that ADDO impacts hundreds of thousands of leaders, provides purposeful work to an entire team, and leaves a positive mark on the world. Not because we had resources, but because we became resourceful.
Here's what I've observed about resourceful entrepreneurs (but these principles apply to leaders in any business):
My advice to you today is this:
Resources are finite. Resourcefulness is infinite.
Resources can be depleted. Resourcefulness grows stronger with use.
Resources may open initial doors. Resourcefulness keeps you moving when those resources run dry.
The next time you catch yourself thinking, "I could succeed if only I had _______," stop and ask instead: "How can I creatively solve this problem with what I already have?"
In my experience, the entrepreneurs (and leaders) who ultimately succeed aren't the ones with the most resources—they're the ones who become masters of resourcefulness.
Last week I had the privilege of sharing a stage with Horst Schulze, the legendary co-founder of Ritz-Carlton. I‘ve heard Horst speak several times throughout the years, and it is always refreshing. At 86, this straight-talking German businessman opened with his trademark question: "Do you want me to be nice or do you want me to be honest?" The audience chose honesty, and they definitely got a dose of it!
While Mr. Schulze is best known for his approach to hospitality, he had plenty of straightforward business insights that I found insightful. While some of the principles seem deceptively simple on the surface, they're the very things most organizations consistently fail to execute.
According to Horst, great businesses do four things exceptionally well:
Each of these could warrant its own post, but I want to focus on that first point: Keep the existing customer.
My natural tendency is always looking ahead to the future and the next opportunity. But the leaders and organizations that stand the test of time share one critical trait: they fiercely protect relationships with people who have already put their trust in them.
Think about it:
We're constantly bombarded with messaging about growth, expansion, and chasing the next big thing. Meanwhile, the goldmine of existing relationships is often an underappreciated asset.
Here’s my challenge to you: Find time today to do one simple thing to show appreciation to an existing customer. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Do it today.
Pick up the phone.
Write a handwritten note.
Send a thoughtful email.
Do something that shows genuine appreciation and adds value to their life or business.
The most successful organizations I've worked with don't just chase new customers—they obsess over keeping the ones they have.
When was the last time you became a customer of your own business?
I'm not talking about knowing your product’s features. I'm talking about actually experiencing what it's like to navigate your company from the outside in.
Last week, Cliff Robinson, the COO of Chick-fil-A, was sharing with our team his challenge to be a customer. There are many benefits of this:
One of the greatest benefits of looking at your business from the perspective of a customer is identifying well-intentioned internal processes that are making a customer’s life more difficult.
I saw this clearly the last time I went to the doctor. I filled out three pieces of paperwork where I was required to put the same exact information each time. I can only assume that is because on the doctor 's side, it is easier on them if I repeat the same information every time (I’ll spare you my separate rant about customer service in the healthcare industry).
It usually begins with good intentions. Your team has a meeting where someone says, "Wouldn't it be great if customers could...":
Seemingly great suggestions, but customers don't care about your administrative workflow or documentation requirements. They care about solving their problem with minimal friction. Now, I’m not saying that we shouldn’t look for more efficient ideas, but we shouldn’t do them at the expense of the customer.
Yet businesses create procedures that make perfect sense internally while creating maddening experiences externally. Your process has become their problem.
Consider these examples of companies I use that have effectively improved my customer experience:
Delta Air Lines has improved their app experience not by chasing technology trends, but by obsessively removing customer friction points. On a travel day, when on a different page of their app, I used to have to click multiple times to get back to my boarding pass. Now, no matter where else I am in the app, my boarding pass stays accessible at the bottom of my screen.
Or take Enterprise Rental Car. One of the most frustrating parts of renting a car is all of the things I have to say “yes” or “no” to, often because of the legal requirements imposed on the rental car companies. Enterprise makes it easier by streamlining the process – getting me from counter to highway with minimal friction. They've mastered what I call "process invisibility"—handling complexity without transferring that complexity to the customer.
Here are a few questions you can ask about your customer experience to measure how well you’re doing this:
Here's my challenge: Become your own customer. Don't just walk through the process—experience it with fresh eyes. Look over a first-time customer’s shoulder as they navigate your business.
Where do they hesitate? What confuses them? When does their enthusiasm diminish? Those moments are your friction points.
Then ask: "How can we make this simpler?"
In today's marketplace, the businesses that thrive won't be those with the most features—they'll be the ones that master the art of friction elimination.