When success becomes your cage

Have you ever been promoted for executing a project successfully, only to find yourself trapped by that very success?

Anne sat across from me, her cheeks flushed with frustration and anger. A composite character drawn from several leaders I've coached, she'd just been handed what looked like a dream assignment—scaling her successful project to the next level.

"They keep calling me 'a safe pair of hands'" she said, not looking up. "But they have no clue how I made the previous project a success.”

Her previous project had flourished because she'd done something radical: she'd stepped back. Given her team genuine autonomy. Let others shine whilst she created the conditions for their talents to shine. The results spoke for themselves. Now the organisation wanted that success replicated at scale.

"What's different this time?" I asked.

She looked up. "Everything. And nothing”. You know, Peter, "There are suddenly twelve stakeholders who need to sign off on everything. People who want the outcome but don't want to accept you need to relinquish some control to make this work."

When culture eats strategy for breakfast

"Walk me through what actually happens," I said in our second session.

Anne pulled out her notes. "Last week, perfect example. I proposed giving the product team authority to prioritise their own backlog. Full autonomy, like my previous project. The steering committee loved it. 'Yes, empower them!' Then—" she laughed, because of the absurdity of it—"then they added weekly steering updates. And sign-off needed for any decision over five thousand euros."

“So what is happening here?” I asked.

"I tried to explain that asking for approval for everything would kill the whole strategy. That autonomy with constant oversight isn't autonomy, that it erodes the very trust needed to perform! They genuinely didn't see the contradiction."

Over the following weeks, the pattern repeated. Anne would explain. Carefully, with data from her previous success. Leadership would agree enthusiastically. Then the collective “immune system” would kick in.

The experiment that changed everything

"Something happened yesterday," Anne said, walking into our fifth session differently. Slower. "We tried an actual test."

I waited.

"I gave the design team real decision-making power on the design of the user interface. Not consulting me first, not running it up the chain—just making the call. Like my previous project." She sat down heavily. "They chose an approach that was different from what the regional director expected. Not wrong. Just different. More innovative, actually."

"And?"

“The next steering committee meeting was two weeks later. Suddenly we need 'more structured oversight to ensure alignment with the strategic vision.' The team's decision got reversed. They're back to needing approval." She looked directly at me. "That's when I finally saw it clearly. They don't want what made my method work. They want the creative results whilst keeping all the control."

"What data did you use to make your case?"

"This time I came prepared, I threw the kitchen sink at it, and the rest of the kitchen to boot”.

We both laughed at that point. Then Anne continued, her eyes a bit sad now.

“I showed them how my previous team made six decisions that surprised leadership—and all six proved right because they were closest to the work. I had the data. I explained that innovation requires space to diverge from expectations." She stopped. "They kept saying 'we agree. However, it's not that they don't understand my words. It's that accepting what I'm saying would require them to let go of control. And they are not ready to do that."

A painful realisation

By our seventh session, Anne had run five more experiments based on challenges we designed. Each one confirmed the same pattern.

When a team succeeded independently, leadership praised Anne's "strong guidance"—missing entirely that her guidance was stepping back strategically. When teams made different choices than expected, even successful ones, the reflex was always the same: more process, more oversight, more control.

"I keep trying to explain that you can't command this kind of transformation," Anne said. "But I'm speaking a language they can't hear. Not because they're not smart—they are. But because what I'm describing threatens fifty years of how-we-do-things-here."

"How long would it take for you to change this?” I asked. "Based on what you're seeing and know, what's your sense?"

We sat with that for a long time. Then Anne sighed and her shoulders slumped.

"Three years minimum. Maybe five. It would require changing how decisions flow, how people are measured, how managers see their role, what feels safe..." She was mapping it out. "This project needs results in twelve months. The culture shift, once everyone would be on board could take—" She stopped mid-sentence.

A long silence.

"I've been trying to force change in an environment isn't ready yet, and it will place me in an impossible position."

Moving forward with clarity

Our remaining sessions shifted. Anne wasn't fighting anymore. She was making a different kind of decision.

"I thought if I just explained better, showed more evidence, found the right stakeholders to champion it..." She looked tired but clear. "But this isn't about explanation. The organisation genuinely wants success. They're just not ready for what creates it. And I can't change that in the timeline this project demands."

"What does that mean for you?"

"It means I’ve decided not to try to make this work here."

Four Months Later

Anne called from her new role at a different organisation. In what I had learned was characteristic of her, she was enthusiastic and liked to share an observation.

"I'm running three projects now, each bigger than anything before. But here's what's different: when I talk about autonomy and trust, I'm not explaining foreign concepts. I'm accelerating something they've already started building."

Her voice was lighter than I'd heard it in months.

"Last week a team made a decision that surprised the director. You know what she said? 'Interesting choice—let's see how it plays out.'"

"How does that feel?"

"Like I'm finally not fighting an uphill battle. Some organisations aren't ready and open yet for certain approaches. And trying to force it doesn't serve anyone—not them, not me, not the work."

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Have you ever mistaken appreciation for readiness? When has your success trapped you in a system that couldn't accommodate what made you successful?