Everyone else seems to be buzzing with enthusiasm.
Words like “alignment,” “synergy,” “north star” are flying around and they are met with collective nodding. Someone says, “We need to make the team feel inspired by this roadmap.”
And then there is you.
You’re sitting there, staring at the diagram on the screen.
Inspiring? No, it’s really not. This thing is broken. You look at the diagram again and think:
This thing isn’t going to work.
You can’t help but interrupt the flow.
“Which specific team is building the API?”
The room goes quiet. People shift in their chairs.
You have broken the spell.
With a simple question.
And for a second you panic. Is it me? Am I the broken one? Am I just cynical?
No. You are the only one checking if the antenna is plugged in.
While the room is debating the broadcast quality, you are the only one noticing that the transmitter is dead.
Granted, it’s a cold, mechanical view of communication.
It “lacks” romance.
And yes, it tends to kill the “vibe”.
But then again, what use is a “vibe” that teams can’t feel? Nothing destroys vibe like a “North Star” that isn’t there.
Someone needs to ask the uncomfortable questions.
The people who are best positioned to ask them are the ones who simply can’t stand a broken machine; who feel a physical reaction when the math just doesn’t add up.
It rarely gets applause in the meeting. In fact, it often feels awkward. Sometimes lonely.
But don’t suppress that feeling. Don’t swallow the question to save the mood.
The awkward silence that follows isn’t a social failure.
It’s the sound of the real work finally getting started.
Keep lighting the path,
Michael
