Some of you will be heading to your annual strategy retreat very soon. How wrong am I to assume that it will feel like a scene from Groundhog Day?
The same unfocused discussions as every year.
The same ambitious announcements.
The same hangover a few weeks later when everything’s back to before. As if the retreat was just some faded dream we had last night.
Suddenly, the new “focus” is the same old fuzzy direction (or five) as before, because “did you see what the newest Gemini model can do, we should really leverage this in our strategy.”
While the new “priority” is actually seven and it can change any day when a new customer comes along with an “interesting project”.
But the worst part is this: We look away. We treat it as normal.
Maybe because we think that’s what it is. It’s just how things are. Not much we can do about it.
And yet, we must. Because this endless cycle of scattered focus and changing direction has a price tag.
→ It shows up as slower delivery, higher burn, missed opportunities, and rework that should never have been necessary.
→ It shows up as teams hedging their bets because they don’t trust that today’s priority will still be the priority next week.
→ It shows up as leaders approving work that contradicts the strategy because saying no feels harder than absorbing the waste.
And the personal cost is just as high.
People burn out from useless work.
→ From pouring hours into tasks that will be undone in the next reshuffle.
→ From making decisions that get reversed because someone higher up changed the story overnight.
→ From caring about results that never materialize because the strategy keeps wobbling.
You lose morale.
You lose talent.
You lose speed.
You lose money.
Does this feel familiar? Maybe at some point, you even stopped fighting it.
You approved work you know does not quite fit.
You told yourself this is temporary.
You noticed the priorities multiplying.
But instead of naming it, you adapted.
The moment you recognize this matters more than the agenda for the next retreat. It’s often the first sign that orientation is missing.
I’ll leave you with one simple question for the weekend. Next week, when that moment shows up again, what will you do differently?
Keep lighting the path,
Michael
