A former colleague of ours had what I'd call “the northeast work ethic.”

Come rain, sleet, hail, or snow, he was going to be in that office. 

He liked being there. He equated presence with productivity. Sitting at his desk was how he knew he was doing his job.

So when I offered flexibility (work from home, adjust your hours, come and go) he looked at me like I was speaking another language.

I had been the queen of flexibility my entire career. I believed in it and offered it to everyone I managed like it was this incredible gift.

For him, it wasn't a gift at all. It was irrelevant.

Then something shifted. He became a parent. 

His child had a recurring health issue, and suddenly he was calling in sick on days he was clearly just working from home. 

After a while I told him, "I'm not signing these attendance sheets. Work from home."

And that was the first time he saw the value of it, because it was finally the right time for him.

I've thought about this a lot since, and I think it's the most counterintuitive thing about motivating people: 

You can show up like the magi, arms full of gifts you think they want, and none of it lands.

Not because you're wrong about the gift. Because you're wrong about the person.

People’s needs ebb and flow. What somebody craves at one stage of their life and career may be invisible to them at another. The colleague who couldn't imagine working from home became the colleague who couldn't imagine not doing it, but only after his life circumstances caught up to the offer.

We saw this play out on a massive scale during the pandemic. 

Some people were thriving at home. No commute, no interruptions, no one stopping by their desk. They were machines. 

But on the other side, you had parents with young kids in houses that were built for eating and sleeping, not for running a workday. 

Same policy, but a completely different experience. 

The managers who get this right aren't the ones with the best perks or the most generous policies. 

They're the ones who are curious enough to ask: what do you actually need right now? 

And they’re the ones that are honest enough to accept that the answer might not be what they expected.

The Trailblazers assessment identifies four core leadership styles, each with its own strengths, blind spots, and growth edges. 

If you haven't taken it yet, start here →

Once you know your style, check back on this section each week for tailored advice.

The Chief: You set the tone for the whole team, and that means your assumptions about what people need carry weight. If you value structure and visibility, you may unconsciously reward people who show up the way you do. This week, ask someone on your team what they need to do their best work, and resist the urge to answer for them.

The Innovator: You're drawn to new ideas about how work should look, and you often want to bring your team along for the ride. But your excitement about a flexible new approach can steamroll people who didn't ask for it. Check whether you're offering what the team wants or what you wish someone had offered you.

The Disruptor: You see the gaps in how people are being managed, and you're not shy about calling them out. That instinct is useful here. If you notice a manager giving the same gift to everyone regardless of fit, say something. But also turn that lens inward: are you assuming everyone on your team wants the same intensity you do?

The Expert: You tend to know what you need and you're usually clear about it. That's a strength. But not everyone on your team has that same self-awareness yet. If someone seems disengaged, consider that they might not know how to name what's missing. Your patience and your questions can help them figure it out.