Too Nice to Innovate? That’s the Silliest Thing I’ve Heard All Year

You know the type.

Crisp shirt. Power stance. Silicon Valley swagger. The kind of guy who thinks he’s being “provocative” when he’s really just being condescending.

Let’s call him Will.

Will flew in from the U.S. to give a keynote about innovation and entrepreneurship in Norway. His big takeaway?

“Norwegians are too nice. Too trusting. That’s why you’ll never succeed.”

And the audience, polite as ever, nodded along.

I nearly fell out of my chair.

Because here’s the thing: no one in the world is looking at America right now and saying, “Wow, I wish we had that level of trust or professionalism.”

When Arrogance Masquerades as Insight

Will’s take wasn’t just lazy. It was hegemonic.

He wasn’t analyzing Norway’s innovation ecosystem, he was exporting American dysfunction and calling it expertise.

The assumption baked into his comment is the same one I’ve heard a hundred times from visiting “thought leaders”: that success looks like them. That Silicon Valley’s brand of hyper-competitive, winner-takes-all chaos is the gold standard.

It’s the same mindset that gave us the 2008 crash, mass tech layoffs, burnout-as-a-badge-of-honor, and an economy where “move fast and break things” ended up breaking … people.

So forgive me if I’m not impressed.

What Niceness Actually Means in Norway

In Norway, “nice” doesn’t mean naïve. It means competent, collaborative, and considerate.

It means not screwing over your suppliers for short-term gains. It means trusting your colleagues to do their jobs without constant surveillance. It means recognizing that the person cleaning your office deserves just as much respect as the person signing the checks.

That’s not weakness, that’s maturity.

And it’s the foundation for one of the world’s highest levels of innovation per capita, a globally trusted brand, and an economy that doesn’t collapse every ten years because someone wanted a bigger yacht.

I’ve Lived in Both Worlds

I’ve worked in the U.S. system where fear, job insecurity, and competition fuel “innovation” until people burn out, quit, or get replaced by the next shiny hire.

I’ve also worked in Norway, where collaboration, trust, and psychological safety make people stay, share, and actually create together.

One system runs on adrenaline. The other runs on sustainability.

Guess which one produces fewer scandals, fewer lawsuits, and more balanced lives?

Will’s comment, that trust is a weakness, perfectly encapsulates why so many American companies are in crisis. They’ve mistaken dominance for competence, and fear for focus.

Trust Is the Future of Innovation

Let’s be clear: trust is not a soft skill. It’s a strategic asset.

High-trust organizations move faster because they waste less time on politics and self-protection. They take smarter risks because information flows freely. They attract talent that values purpose over prestige.

If anything, Norway’s “niceness” is what the rest of the world needs more of - not less.

The Real Weakness

The real weakness isn’t trust. It’s arrogance.

It’s the inability to imagine that your model might not be universal. It’s walking into another country and lecturing them on how to succeed all while your own house is on fire.

If the price of success is cynicism, Norway’s doing just fine.

The world doesn’t need more sharks. It needs more seahorses, steady, graceful, and thriving in community.

P.S.

This isn’t a Norway-vs-America argument. It’s a reminder that the future of innovation belongs to the systems that trust their people. If you’re a leader who still thinks “nice” is a liability, you might want to look around because the world has already moved on without you.

Welcome to the Post-Inclusion Era: Where Human Rights Are Optional

I always thought inclusion was the finish line. I celebrated representation. I helped write policies. I ran workshops and campaigns.

And for a while, I could see it working. Doors opened. Conversations changed. The word belonging became a business buzzword.

But somewhere between political backslides, rising extremism, and digital tribalism, something shifted. Now, inclusion feels less like progress and more like a memory.

I believe we are entering a post-inclusion era. And in this era, human rights are starting to look negotiable again.

The False Sense of Arrival

We’ve spent decades building laws and language around fairness. Equal pay. Anti-discrimination. Gender balance.

But progress made a lot of us comfortable, made us feel like it was inevitable, and this made us careless. While we celebrated milestones, the foundation was quietly cracking.

Across Europe, the rollback has begun and continues:

• Hungary banned LGBTQ+ education in schools.

• France and the Netherlands tightened restrictions on asylum and religious expression.

• The UK debates deportation flights like it’s routine public policy.

• AI systems discriminate in hiring, policing, and healthcare, bias now coded into our institutions.

Meanwhile, global conflicts and cultural divides have reignited fear, nationalism, and othering.

Inclusion Was Never the End Goal

Inclusion was supposed to be the means, not the end. A tool for recognizing humanity, not a trophy for those who say the right words.

Corporate culture turned inclusion into a PR exercise. Governments turned it into compliance. And activists, exhausted, turned it into survival.

But when your right to exist is questioned, because of who you love, where you’re from, or what you believe, inclusion becomes secondary. Recognition comes first.

Before we can talk about belonging, we need to make sure people are still allowed to be.

The New Fight: From Belonging to Being

This isn’t just about identity politics. It’s about existence politics.

We’re living through a moment when rights once considered untouchable, reproductive rights, asylum rights, freedom of expression, are back on the negotiating table. And that means the inclusion conversation needs to evolve.

It’s not enough to ask who’s missing from the table. We have to ask who’s being locked out of the building.

A Call to Arms (and Hearts)

If we want to reclaim the progress we’ve made, we can’t wait for policy to catch up. We have to act like inclusion still matters, especially when it feels risky to do so.

That means:

• Calling out dehumanization: in the media, in politics, in boardrooms.

• Refusing neutrality: silence is just compliance with whoever holds power.

• Building cross-movement solidarity: because women’s rights, refugee rights, the rights of persons of color, LGBTQ+ rights, and disability rights are the same fight under different names.

The old fight was for fairness. The new fight is for survival.

The Hope That’s Left

I have hope. Because every time someone tells their story, every time an ally steps up, every time a community refuses to disappear, inclusion lives on.

P.S. This isn’t a eulogy for inclusion, it’s a rallying cry. If you’re feeling disillusioned or burnt out, remember: the progress we made wasn’t an accident. It was built by people who refused to give up. Now it’s our turn. Keep practicing inclusion, even and especially when the world makes it hard.

Native Language-Only Job Ads Are Just Discrimination In the Guise of Quality Control

Okay. Bear with me. If someone is fluent, can do the work, and communicates clearly, why on earth are we still demanding “native language proficiency” in a lot of jobs?

Short answer: we shouldn’t be. In 99% of roles, “native only” isn’t a quality standard, it’s a iron gate.

The Myth of “Native” = Better

“Native” sounds objective. It isn’t. It’s a proxy for comfort and sameness. It tells immigrants and multilingual pros: we don’t trust you, even when your skills and results say otherwise.

Fluency is what gets work done: clear meetings, precise emails, sound decisions, respectful relationships. “Native” is not a skill. It’s a birth condition.

When “Native Only” Quietly Becomes Discrimination

Look at where this shows up: office jobs, blue-collar roles, internal-facing teams. No public poetry. No courtroom briefs. No national broadcast scripts. Just… meetings, docs, Slack, customers, colleagues.

Requiring “native” here does three things:

• Shrinks the talent pool (and then we complain about shortages).

• Signals bias (“we hire people like us”).

• Punishes multilingualism—the very asset global companies claim to value.

So… When Is “Native” Legit?

It’s a short list. Really short.

• Precision prose that’s public-facing: brand copywriting, literary editing, top-tier journalism, national ad slogans.

• Statutory language work: legal drafting that must conform to local idiom, legislation, or precedent.

• Specific performance demands: acting roles where the character requires a native accent.

• High-stakes, idiom-heavy representation: prime-time news anchoring, comedic writing reliant on local wordplay.

Notice what’s missing? Most corporate roles. Most operational roles. Most customer roles. Most tech, finance, consulting, healthcare, education roles. If you can communicate clearly at C1-ish fluency, you can do the job—and do it well.

“But We’re Norwegian at Work”

Great. Then measure Norwegian fluency, not nativeness. Ask for B2/C1 (or equivalent) and assess it like any other skill, with tasks.

• Need patient-facing nurses or doctors? Test comprehension, clarity, and bedside communication.

• Need project leads? Test meeting facilitation and written summaries.

• Need sales? Test discovery calls, objection handling, and proposals.

“Native” is lazy screening. Task-based assessments are real screening.

Objection Playbook (And Better Reframes)

“Work should be in Norwegian.” Absolutely, so hire fluent professionals and support growth to C1. “Native” won’t run your business. Fluency will.

“Clients expect perfect language.” Clients expect outcomes, clarity, and trust. Use editorial reviews for final polish where needed. Stop using nativeness to outsource management.

“It’s about cultural nuance.” Then train it, pair people, and build review loops. Culture is learned. Nativeness is inherited.

What Smart Employers Do Instead

• Specify proficiency, not birthplace: “Norwegian C1 required; English B2 a plus.”

• Use work samples, not vibes: role-play calls, write a recap, draft a short note, present a decision.

• Edit the Job Description: replace “native” with “fluent” and the tasks that prove it.

• Support language as a skill: paid classes, mentoring, feedback on docs, time to practice.

• Pair and review: bilingual teams, buddy systems, lightweight copy checks for external materials.

• Track outcomes: retention, customer loyalty, cycle time, error rates, not accent anxiety.

The Leadership Test

This isn’t a language debate. It’s an inclusion test. If your bar is “native,” your bar is actually “people like me.”

Raise it.

Ask for fluency. Assess the work. Support the growth. Hire the talent you keep saying you can’t find.

“Native” is a passport. “Fluent” is a skill. Hire skills.

P.S. This sits right at the heart of my broader theme: inclusion is a capability, not a concept. If you’re wrestling with job language, send me a Job Description, and I’ll show you how to rewrite it for fluency, fairness, and better hires.

The Tough Guys: Why Boomers Needed Better Role Models

If you grew up in the post-war West, your idea of a “real man” probably came with a cigarette, a fist, or a stiff drink. John Wayne didn’t cry. James Bond didn’t apologize. Rambo solved every problem with a machine gun.

For a generation of boys who became today’s executives, those were the role models. And we’re still paying the price.

The Blueprint of the “Tough Guy”

In the late 20th century, the media machine was busy manufacturing heroes who equated strength with dominance and silence with control.

The pattern was everywhere:

• John Wayne taught men to grit their teeth and go it alone.

• Sean Connery’s Bond seduced, killed, and quipped but never questioned himself.

• Clint Eastwood and Charles Bronson showed that anger could look noble if you called it justice.

• Rocky turned pain into proof of worth.

• Winston Churchill and General Patton proved that bravado could pass for brilliance if it came with medals.

It was a global export, broadcast straight from Hollywood and the BBC to every boardroom dreamer with a TV.

What These Heroes Taught Future Leaders

Those films didn’t just entertain. They trained. They whispered that real leaders don’t flinch, don’t doubt, and definitely don’t ask for help.

And when those boys grew up, they brought that training to work:

• Empathy became “weakness.”

• Listening became “indecision.”

• Collaboration became “compromise.”

• Vulnerability became “liability.”

Sound familiar? You’ve probably worked for one of them. The boss who mistakes silence for respect. The executive who treats feedback like mutiny.

This is the cultural residue of the tough-guy generation.

The Missing Message

While the world celebrated men who conquered, it largely ignored those who connected. There were alternative scripts. People like Fred Rogers, Desmond Tutu, Nelson Mandela, Eleanor Roosevelt, Mahatma Gandhi, people who, though certainly not perfect and in many ways problematic, nonetheless led through empathy, patience, and care. But they were background characters in a culture obsessed with dominance.

They proved you could be gentle without being soft, but the spotlight rarely lingered on that kind of strength.

Why It Matters Now

Corporate leadership still carries their fingerprints. We still reward volume over value, certainty over curiosity, charisma over character. But the cracks are showing: burnout, disengagement, distrust.

Maybe the issue isn’t that men today are broken, maybe their role models were.

What Comes Next

In Part 2: The Human Leaders, I'm planning to look at the empathy-driven figures who offered a different blueprint, and how leaders can finally learn from them.

Because strength without empathy isn’t leadership. It’s legacy cosplay.

P.S. Think about your earliest heroes. Who taught you what strength looked like, and have you updated that definition since? Drop your role models in the comments, and then check out Part 2: The Human Leaders to see how the story evolves.

What Taylor Swift Is Teaching Men About Inclusion

When my business partner, Anne Igeltjørn, invited me to a Taylor Swift album launch party, I hesitated.

Not because I didn’t like Taylor Swift - I do. (Blame Anne for introducing me to Reputation and Midnights.) I hesitated because I wasn’t sure I belonged.

I pictured a sea of glitter, friendship bracelets, and women in their teens and twenties singing every lyric by heart. And then me - a 45-year-old man, clapping on the wrong beat, trying not to look like someone’s confused uncle.

But Anne got me a ticket, and a simple “of course, you should come!” turned into a quiet masterclass in inclusion.

Men, This Is What Inclusion Feels Like

Here’s the thing: I was nervous to walk into a space that wasn’t built for me. But that’s the feeling a lot of people live with every day - stepping into rooms where they’re not sure they belong.

And that night, I got a tiny glimpse of what that feels like.

But I also got something else: an example of how inclusion actually happens.

Because no one at that event made me feel like an outsider. No one questioned why I was there. No one treated me like an intruder.

It was open, joyful, welcoming. The kind of energy that says, “You can sit with us.”

And for a lot of men in leadership - especially those of us used to being the default in most rooms - that’s a lesson worth sitting with.

What Taylor Swift Does That Many Leaders Don’t

Taylor Swift has built one of the most engaged, loyal communities in the world. But she didn’t do it by commanding authority. She did it by creating connection.

By letting people see her. By being vulnerable. By telling stories that make millions feel seen too.

That’s not weakness. That’s leadership.

She’s built an ecosystem where empathy is a feature, not a flaw - where emotions aren’t just accepted but celebrated. And that’s something a lot of male leaders could learn from.

Three Things Men Can Learn From the Swifties

💡 1. Show Up Anyway. Sometimes inclusion starts with discomfort. If you only enter rooms that feel familiar, you’ll never grow your empathy.

🎶 2. Listen Before You Lead. Swift’s power isn’t just in her voice - it’s in how she gives voice to others. Men who want to lead inclusively should do the same.

🪩 3. Celebrate Without Controlling. At that launch party, no one was trying to “manage” the joy. People were crying, laughing, dancing, and being human. Real leadership doesn’t control the energy - it creates safety for it.

The Real Test of Inclusion

After the event, I scrolled through social media. The backlash was immediate - the jokes, the dismissiveness, the casual misogyny dressed up as critique.

And I thought: This is what women experience all the time. This constant judgment, this cultural policing of joy, this need to make something smaller just because it wasn’t made for you.

That’s the real test for men who want to be allies: Can you celebrate something even when it’s not about you?

The Bigger Picture

We talk a lot about men joining the conversation on inclusion. But joining means more than attending a training or signing a pledge. It means showing up in spaces where you’re not the center, and listening without defensiveness.

It means doing what Anne did for me that night: inviting someone in, without hesitation, and saying, “There’s room for you here.”

P.S. Inclusion doesn’t start in boardrooms. It starts in small, human moments, an open invitation, a song, a shared story.

So, men - maybe our next leadership lesson isn’t in a seminar. Maybe it’s at a Taylor Swift concert. 💫

The Room Full of Swifties: What a Taylor Swift Party Taught Me About Belonging

When my business partner Anne Igeltjørn told me she was going to the Taylor Swift launch party for The Life of a Showgirl, I hesitated before asking the question: “Can I come?”

I hesitated because, well, I’m 45. A man. And I wasn’t sure if I’d fit in at an event that, at least from the outside, seemed like it was built for someone else.

But Anne, being Anne, didn’t miss a beat. She’d already called the venue, found an extra ticket, and invited me to join her and her sister. That simple act, “of course, you should come!”, was the first moment I realized this wasn’t just a party. It was a masterclass in inclusion.

The Awkward Part (That Never Came)

Walking in, I’d braced myself to be the old guy in a room full of glitter, friendship bracelets, and youthful energy.

But what I found was something entirely different. The crowd was mixed, men and women, friends and couples, strangers singing and dancing. The average age was somewhere in the 30s, and instead of feeling out of place, I felt part of something joyful, warm, and human.

At one point, I noticed a couple beside me swaying together to the music. She teared up during one of the songs, and he just quietly reached over and held her hand. No fanfare. No posturing. Just presence.

That moment hit me harder than I expected. It was connection. Empathy. Care.

The Real Lesson in Belonging

Here’s the thing about belonging: you can’t manufacture it with slogans or strategy. It happens in small, genuine moments, when someone makes space for you, when you make space for them.

Anne didn’t just get me a ticket; she gave me permission to show up. The couple next to me reminded me that shared emotion builds bridges faster than shared opinions. And Taylor Swift, whether you like her or not, has somehow created a global community built on listening, storytelling, and joy.

That’s inclusion. Not the kind that checks boxes, but the kind that opens doors.

Beyond the Backlash

Of course, the next morning, I opened social media and saw the criticism. The think pieces. The hot takes. Some fair, some not. And a whole lot that revealed something bigger about us - our need to tear down what we don’t understand, or what wasn’t made for us.

But here’s what that night reminded me: when we enter spaces with curiosity instead of defensiveness, we find humanity. When we stop asking, “Is this for me?” and start asking, “Can I make room for someone else here too?”, everything changes.

Why It Matters

I walked into that event feeling like an outsider. I left feeling like part of a community I didn’t know I needed.

And maybe that’s the point. Inclusion isn’t about making everything for everyone. It’s about making sure everyone knows they’re welcome to show up.

P.S. This one’s for Anne - for being the kind of leader who invites others in. And for anyone who’s ever wondered, “Do I belong here?” - try showing up anyway. You might be surprised who’s waiting to hand you a bracelet. 💫

40 by 30: A Collective Journey for Maritime Leadership

Norway’s maritime industry is one of the most innovative in the world. But like so many sectors, it’s still missing out on a big opportunity: women in leadership. Today, women hold around 15% of leadership roles in the industry.

That’s where WISTA Norway’s “40 by 30” pledge comes in.

What the Pledge Is About

The idea is simple and inspiring: by 2030, let’s make sure 40% of leadership positions are filled by women. Companies who sign the pledge commit to:

• Setting clear goals for gender balance.

• Measuring and sharing progress.

• Making diversity a leadership priority.

It’s not just a statement - it’s a roadmap.

Why It Matters

The maritime sector is facing huge shifts: green transition, digitalization, and global competition. To meet those challenges, we need all the talent, creativity, and perspectives we can get.

Research consistently shows that diverse leadership teams make better decisions, drive stronger performance, and create healthier workplaces. That’s good for business, and it’s good for people.

A Shared Effort

“40 by 30” isn’t about one company or one initiative. It’s about the whole industry pulling together. Each step forward makes the sector stronger, more competitive, and more attractive to the next generation of talent.

Looking Ahead

2030 may feel far away, but it’s just around the corner in strategy terms. With intentional effort and collaboration, it’s absolutely achievable.

And imagine the signal it would send if Norway’s maritime industry - already a global leader - also became a global example of gender balance in leadership.

P.S. If you’re part of the maritime sector, this is a wonderful chance to join a collective movement for change. You can read more and sign the pledge here → WISTA Norway 40 by 30

Chapter 3: Speak Up Even When It Costs You: From "The Big F#cking Book on How to Be a Decent Guy"

Here’s something I’ve learned the hard way:

Doing the right thing doesn’t always feel good. It’s not always safe. It’s not always rewarded. But it always matters.

Health Class, 1990s

Small-town America. Conservative. The kind of place where the worst thing you could be called… was gay.

We’re in health class. The teacher starts a unit on HIV/AIDS. And the whole thing turns into a parade of misinformation and homophobia. Jokes. Blame. Bluster.

I remember sitting there thinking: This is wrong. And for once, I didn’t keep it to myself.

I raised my hand and said:

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being gay.”

Dead silence. Then came the pushback. I lost friends. Got bullied. Spent the rest of that year wondering if I’d made a huge mistake.

But I hadn’t. Because what I’d actually done was practice being the kind of guy I wanted to become.

Doing the Right Thing Isn’t Always Popular

I don’t tell this story to get applause. I tell it because we need to normalize the cost of doing the right thing. Especially for young men.

It’s easy to stand up for others when it’s cool, safe, or hashtag-approved. It’s harder when it costs you your reputation, your popularity, your peace.

But that’s when it counts most.

How That Moment Shaped My Life

That awkward, painful moment in health class was a turning point. It’s the moment I realized that values without action are just opinions.

Since then, I’ve gone on to:

• Research public health and LGBTQIA+ equity

• Build companies where inclusion isn’t a checkbox

• Work alongside brilliant people across the LGBTQIA+ spectrum who’ve taught me what allyship really means

But I wouldn’t have gotten there if I hadn’t first learned how to sit in discomfort without backing down.

What I Want Young Men to Know

If you’re reading this and you’re teenager, or raising someone who is, here’s what I want you to hear:

🛑 You don’t have to be the loudest voice in the room 📢 But you do have to be a voice, especially when the room gets quiet

🫱🏼🫲🏽 You don’t need to know everything 💡 But you do need to notice when something’s off, and choose not to look away

💪🏻 You don’t need to be perfect 🧭 You just need to show up for people in ways that sometimes may cost you something

That’s how integrity works. That’s how decent guys are made.

P.S.

This is Chapter 3 from my new book The Big F#cking Book on How to Be a Decent Guy - a self-help guide for young men who want to do better, be better, and lead without being a jerk.

💥 If you liked this chapter, you can preorder the book now at a 60% discount ahead of the July 2026 release: 👉 inclusiveleadership.solutions/store/p/the-big-fcking-book-on-how-to-be-a-decent-guy

👦🏽👨🏻👨🏿🦱 If you’re raising a teenage boy - or mentoring a young man who’s trying to figure things out - please share this with them. And if they have thoughts or questions, I’d love to hear them.

Let’s give the next generation a better blueprint for masculinity.

Not louder. Just better.

The Bar Is on the Floor: Why CEO Misconduct Keeps Happening and How We Actually Stop It

When a man at the top behaves badly, no one is shocked anymore. We shrug. “It’s just another Tuesday.”

Sexual misconduct, bullying, massive layoffs with no warning, romantic relationships with direct reports, fraud, coverups, whistleblower retaliation.

In 2025 alone, Nestlé, Barclays, and JLL Australia all made headlines for CEO behavior that violated ethics, policy or both.

And if you think these are outliers, you haven’t been paying attention.

The CEO Misconduct Hall of Shame

Let’s start with a few recent examples:

• Nestlé (2025): CEO Laurent Freixe was dismissed after an undisclosed romantic relationship with a subordinate, violating internal conduct rules (Reuters).

• JLL Australia (2025): CEO Dan Kernaghan was removed after reinstating an executive accused of sexual harassment and mishandling misconduct complaints (Courier Mail).

• Barclays (2025 ruling): Former CEO Jes Staley was banned from UK financial services for misleading regulators about his ties to Jeffrey Epstein (The Guardian).

• McDonald's (2023): Stephen Easterbrook was fined and banned by the U.S. SEC after misleading investors about inappropriate relationships with employees (BBC).

• P&O Ferries (2022–2025): Peter Hebblethwaite oversaw mass layoffs by video, triggering years of public backlash and an eventual resignation (BBC).

That’s just a taste. Toss in Theranos, Wells Fargo, PwC Australia, Papa John’s, and “Pharma Bro” Martin Shkreli for a full buffet of bad behavior.

Why Does This Keep Happening?

It’s not just about bad apples. It’s about systems that reward rot.

Here’s what could be driving these behaviors:

1. Unchecked Power: CEOs operate in bubbles. The higher they climb, the fewer people challenge them. Leader isolation and excessive confidence (a.k.a. hubris) reduce self-correction.

2. Gendered Entitlement: Men in male-dominated industries are often socialized for dominance, risk-taking, and boundary-pushing. The result? More misconduct in the form of bullying, sexual harassment, and unethical decision-making.

3. Rewarding Results Over Process: As long as CEOs deliver on growth and shareholder value, toxic behavior is tolerated until it explodes.

4. Weak Guardrails: Boards look the other way. HR doesn’t touch the top floor. Whistleblower protections fail. In founder-led firms or family businesses, oversight can be non-existent.

The Bar Is on the Floor

We are not asking for much.

Let’s be honest: "Don’t harass or assault anyone" is not a high standard. Neither is "Don’t lie to regulators or shareholders."

So let’s put it plainly.

Three Things Not to Do (The Basic Bar):

1. Don’t abuse your power to harm others.

2. Don’t lie, cover up, or retaliate.

3. Don’t create or tolerate toxic environments.

Three Things To Actually Do:

1. Use your power to protect others.

2. Use your influence to elevate others.

3. Use your visibility to model integrity.

Why It Might Finally Matter

The consequences are catching up:

• Legal bans and fines (Barclays, McDonald’s, Wells Fargo)

• Clawbacks and criminal charges (Theranos, Shkreli)

• Public boycotts and talent drain (Papa John’s, P&O Ferries)

• Loss of legacy - permanently tarnished reputations

Boards are starting to tie bonuses to conduct, regulators are getting more aggressive, and even C-suite peers are turning their backs on misconduct.

Younger employees? They’re watching. So are your customers. And they’re not quiet.

So What Do We Do About It?

We shift the culture of leadership.

That means stronger governance, not just louder branding. That means promoting people with character, not just charisma.

And it means raising the bar from “don’t be a criminal” to something higher.

Decency. Accountability. Courage.

If you’re a board member, investor, or employee, it’s time to stop shrugging.

And if you’re a CEO?

Lead like people are watching.

Because now they are.

P.S. Want to know who’s doing it right? I'm thinking that should be the next article. What do you think about a list of the folks who are doing it right?

When They Say “I Support Inclusion, Just Not at Work”

We’ve all met them. Colleagues who believe in fairness, equality, and doing the right thing, but who get visibly uncomfortable when diversity or inclusion shows up in a workplace context.

They’re not hostile. They’re hesitant. And if you push too hard, too fast, they shut down.

So what do you do? You shut up. So they don’t.

That’s the zinger I use on stage, and it applies here more than ever.

Because these conversations aren’t about convincing enemies. They’re about collaborating with people who are already halfway there, but risk-sensitive. People who need a bridge, not a lecture.

First: Mindset Matters

Before you even open your mouth, check your assumptions. This isn’t a debate. It’s a design process.

🧠 Assume goodwill. Treat your colleague like an ally who’s weighing risk, not an opponent who’s rejecting values.

👂 Lead with listening. Ask, “What’s your concern?” before jumping in with a solution.

🤝 Design together. Offer a small, specific experiment they can own, not a manifesto they have to sign up for.

The Objection Playbook

Here’s how to reframe common concerns in a way that lowers defensiveness and raises curiosity.

🎯 “Work should be apolitical.” “Totally get that. Hiring, safety, promotions, these are already choices. Let’s just make them transparent so work stays fair and calm.”

🛠️ “HR handles this.” “HR sets the policy. And you and I run the meetings. Let’s tweak how we run them so people contribute faster and with less confusion.”

⏱️ “We don’t have time for this.” “Same here. That’s why this isn’t a new meeting, it’s 60 seconds inside the meetings we already have.”

💥 “Talking about identity will divide us.” “I hear you, I'm not one for heavy topics, let’s just tune our process, for example one voice at a time and one new voice before seconds. Two weeks, then we keep or drop.”

⚖️ “We already treat everyone the same.” “Love that. Let’s prove it. We’ll run a simple turn-taking rule and a decision checklist. Then see if speaking time and follow-ups are balanced.”

What Not to Do

❌ Don’t debate ideology. Stick to tasks, risks, and results. Inclusion is a workplace design challenge, not a political identity.

❌ Don’t data dump. One stat or story is plenty. This is about engagement, not evidence.

❌ Don’t moralize. Co-design the experiment. Give them ownership of one step. That’s how you build buy-in.

It’s Not About Belief. It’s About Behavior.

You don’t need your whole team to become DEI experts. You need them to test what works.

And most of the time, inclusion isn’t about more meetings, bigger policies, or splashy campaigns. It’s about small, repeatable actions that reduce friction and increase trust.

So the next time someone says, “I’m all for it… just not at work,” Don’t argue.

Invite them in. With one small step they can try, own, and refine.

Because when inclusion becomes a shared experiment, not a moral performance, everyone moves faster.

P.S. This playbook isn’t for the people who say inclusion is nonsense. It’s for the people who believe in it but feel cautious, unsure, or overstretched. Let’s give them tools that meet them where they are.

Love & Kindness: Life lessons from my mom, part two

When I asked my mom to write down the top 10 life lessons she wanted me to remember, she gave me 113. Her list is a mix of quotes, memories, and deeply lived values—gathered from books, friends, films, her kids (hi 👋), and the messy, magical process of being human.

In my last article, I explored the first theme that emerged: Joy, Humor & Curiosity. This time, I’m writing about the second top-voted theme from that poll: Love & Kindness.

Her reflections don’t offer grand theories. They offer ground-level truths, the kind you actually want with you when things get hard, or tender, or real.

Here are a few of my favorites.

Listening is Love

“The most basic and powerful way to connect to another person is to listen. Just listen.” - Cathy Giannoumis

For my mom, love doesn’t begin with action. It begins with attention.

She’s the kind of person who listens like it’s a skill, not a habit. And growing up, I realized how rare that is.

Listening is how we say: You matter. I’m here. I care. It’s one of the most powerful kinds of kindness, and the least practiced.

The Everyday Miracles of Kindness

“Things can change so entirely in a heartbeat. The world can be made entirely anew because someone was kind.” - Cathy Giannoumis

Kindness is her currency. Not the “random act” kind, but the steady, intentional kind.

Holding the elevator. Remembering your coffee order. Sending a text at the right moment.

She believes the world changes, not through big declarations, but through small, consistent kindnesses that slowly rewire how we trust each other.

Helpers Make the World Go Round

“In any tragedy, look for the helpers, you will always find people that are helping.” — Mr. Rogers

This one shows up in every tough moment of our lives.

My mom taught me that even when the news is bleak, or the systems are broken, or the grief feels unbearable, there’s always someone helping. Always someone trying to hold the world together with duct tape and kindness.

And that’s the kind of person she wanted me to be. One of the helpers.

Real Love Isn’t Flashy

“Family are the people who care about you.” - Cathy Giannoumis

Love, for my mom, is not dramatic. It’s not a speech or a social media post.

It’s doing the dishes without being asked. It’s staying up to talk even when you’re tired. It’s giving someone the best bite off your plate.

She never talks about love as an emotion. She talks about it as a responsibility. A rhythm. A gift you give because someone matters to you, not because they earned it, but because they’re yours.

The People Who Loved Us Into Being

“All of us have special ones who loved us into being.” - Mr. Rogers

“Inside each of us we preserve the fingerprints of those who taught us how to love.” - The Phone Box at the Edge of the World

This may be my favorite lesson of all.

We are who we are because someone showed us how to be loved. Someone saw us before we saw ourselves. Someone lit the first lamp and walked with us until we could carry it on our own.

For me, that someone is my mom.

Be Gentle. Everyone’s Carrying Something.

“We are a world of broken people. Let’s be kind to one another.” - Cathy Giannoumis

It’s easy to armor up in the workplace, online, even with people we love.

But my mom believes softness is a form of strength. Not everyone gets to be open. Not everyone has the support they need. So if you do? Extend it.

Don’t save your kindness for a special occasion. Use it daily. Lavishly. Freely.

P.S. This is the second (and final) article in a two-part series based on the 113 life lessons my mom shared with me. If you missed Part 1 on Joy, Humor & Curiosity, you can find it here.

Thank you to everyone who voted in the poll! And Mom, if you’re reading this: thank you for loving me into being.

When the New Boss Doesn’t Know You (and Why That’s a Problem)

In my recent piece on the bias loop, I talked about the challenge of being forever seen through the lens of your “year one” self. A dear friend and colleague added an unexpected twist:

Sometimes the bias loop runs in reverse.

You can be in the same company for years, even decades, but when leadership changes, you suddenly find yourself perceived only through the narrowest, most recent snapshot of your career.

When the Story Shrinks

My colleague has seen this dynamic firsthand. After years of delivering high-profile campaigns, strategic wins, and leadership results, a shift in leadership meant that some of their new colleagues didn’t have the full picture of their background.

It wasn’t malice, it was mechanics. New leaders arrive, established networks shift, and the corporate memory of your skills and achievements naturally fades. The result? People may make well-meaning assumptions based on recent work alone.

Why It Matters

For some, that gap in recognition can quietly erode confidence. Talented colleagues may feel less visible. They may hesitate to stretch into new opportunities. And over time, this can make it harder for teams to hold onto their best people, not because they lack ability, but because their contributions aren’t fully seen.

The Missing Leadership Skill

This isn’t about onboarding new hires, it’s about onboarding new leaders to existing teams.

When a new team member joins, we share their skills, background, and accomplishments. But when a leader inherits a team, we rarely do the same in reverse. Without that process, assumptions fill the gap. And as they put it: “These assumptions become their reality.”

What Leaders Can Do

If you inherit a team, your first job isn’t to set direction. It’s to understand what you’ve got. That means:

• Do a skills tour – not as an interrogation, but as a curiosity exercise. Let people tell their own professional story.

• Update the internal narrative – share what you’ve learned about your team’s capabilities with others who may only see them through outdated lenses.

• Resist the recency trap – don’t judge someone solely by their last 6–12 months if reorgs or resource shifts have taken them out of their core work.

• Keep the values conversation alive – shifts in focus or priorities can leave people questioning their place; leaders can help by making those changes explicit and inviting dialogue.

The Whole-Person View

The real leadership competency here is what I’d call seeing the spectrum of the person’s experience. Your team isn’t just their current project list or job title, they’re the sum of their skills, experiences, networks, and values.

If you don’t see the whole person, you risk underestimating them and missing opportunities to fully leverage their strengths.

And as my colleague reminded me, even senior leaders sometimes have to reintroduce themselves. The difference is that experience gives you the confidence to “just do it” rather than wait for permission. Not everyone has that confidence yet, which is why leaders have a responsibility to build it by seeing and valuing the full story, not just the latest chapter.

P.S. This article is a companion to my earlier piece on The Bias Loop. That one explored how people can get stuck in outdated perceptions from their early days in a role. This one looks at the reverse, when new leaders inherit a team and only see a fraction of the story. Together, they’re a call to action for leaders to refresh their perspective, rebuild trust, and make sure the talent they have is the talent they truly see.

How Generational Gatekeeping Stalls Inclusion

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I invited my network into something new: a collaborative research project on inclusion. I asked a simple question:

What questions should we be asking leaders about inclusion today?

Putting something like that out publicly is always a little vulnerable. You never know if it’ll resonate or just disappear into the feed. But this time, it landed. Colleagues commented and reposted and everyone added thoughtful suggestions for what kinds of questions I could consider. It was generous, helpful, and exactly the kind of engagement I was hoping for.

Then Dr. Karl entered the comments.

He was someone I’ve respected for years - a long-standing leader in human rights. Someone who’s done real, meaningful work. But instead of offering support or insight, he took the opportunity to remind us all how long he's been doing this work. How many programs he's run. How he's been in the field for nearly 40 years. No links. No resources. No curiosity.

Just credentials. Just legacy. Just... flex.

The Emotional Fallout

The second I read his comment, my stomach dropped. I felt like garbage.

Suddenly I wasn’t a researcher inviting collaboration. I was an intruder in someone else’s domain. I felt small, ashamed, like what I was doing didn’t matter. Like I shouldn’t have posted at all.

And here’s the thing: this wasn’t the first time.

When I worked in inclusive design, it happened there too. I’d share a new initiative, a new tool, or a small research win only to be met with private messages from older advocates telling me they’d “been doing this work since day one.” Some even implied they’d invented the concept. Not once did they offer a link. Not once did they ask what I was doing or how they could help.

It wasn’t mentoring. It wasn’t support. It was a power play.

When Leadership Becomes Gatekeeping

There’s a pattern here and it’s not a flattering one.

Inclusion work attracts people with deep values and long histories. That’s a strength. But when experience turns into entitlement, and legacy turns into ego, we lose something vital: empathy.

Too often, senior leaders especially in fields like human rights, inclusive design, or gender equity lead with their résumés instead of their curiosity. They respond to emerging work not with encouragement, but with condescension.

And they end up silencing the very voices they claim to have fought for.

The Missed Opportunity

That comment could have been something else entirely. He could have said:

“Hey, I’ve worked on something similar, want me to send you a survey instrument we used?” “Your project sounds great. Curious what angle are you exploring?” “Would love to collaborate or share insights. Let me know how I can help.”

Even an ounce of humility would’ve changed everything. Instead, I got a reminder of the pecking order.

What Leadership Could Look Like Instead

I’m Gen X. Some of my most impactful mentors are Gen Z. I’m a huge advocate for reverse mentoring because I believe leadership isn’t about hoarding knowledge, it’s about sharing power.

The best leaders I know:

• Ask questions before offering answers

• Support new work without needing the spotlight

• Offer tools, not just titles

• Practice allyship, not authority

Inclusion means more than inviting new voices. It means letting go of the need to dominate the mic.

Lesson Learned

If your experience doesn't come with empathy, you're not leading. You’re just standing in the way.

P.S.

To every emerging leader who's been met with ego instead of encouragement: Keep going. You’re not imagining it. And you’re not alone.

Let’s build a leadership culture that shares, collaborates, and uplifts across every generation. 👉 inclusiveleadership.solutions

Joy, Humor & Curiosity: Life Lessons from My Mom

A few weeks ago, I asked my mom for her top ten life lessons.

She gave me 113.

Yes, that’s my mom, Cathy. The kind of person who can fill your plate with more wisdom than you thought possible, and somehow make it feel light and joyful. She’s also the kind of person who’s ended up as the hero in more than one story I tell on stage. (If you’ve seen The Printer Story, you know what I mean.)

I grouped her 113 lessons into four themes and asked all of you to vote on which one I should write about first. It was close, but Joy, Humor & Curiosity edged out the rest.

So here we are.

Joy Is a Practice, Not a Perk

"Happy is as happy does. Cooking makes you happy? So cook! Reading makes you happy? Read! Football, opera, art makes you happy? So play, sing, paint. Life is there to be enjoyed!" - from an Italian cookbook, via Mom

We tend to think of joy as something that happens when the conditions are right, the big win, the perfect holiday, the milestone moment. My mom lives as though joy is a decision you make daily. In leadership, that means not waiting for the “perfect quarter” to celebrate your team. Bake joy into the process.

Ice Cream Is Important

It’s one of her shortest lessons, and maybe the most profound:

“Ice cream is important.” -Stuart Little, also via Mom

Not everything that builds culture and connection has to be deep or strategic. Sometimes it’s just making space for a shared laugh, a coffee break, or a scoop of strawberry gelato.

You’re One of a Kind, Own It

"Most of the beautiful things in life come by two’s and three’s, by dozens or thousands. Lots of stars, sunsets, seashells, rainbows, mountains, trees, roses, but only one unique and unrepeatable you."

Leaders often talk about authenticity as a buzzword. My mom lives it. Being genuinely yourself doesn’t just feel good, it makes people trust you.

Happiness Has No Expiration Date

"Be happy. It's not that hard. You have a million things to be happy about. You have your whole life ahead of you. You will always have your whole life ahead of you. That never stops and you shouldn't forget it." - Bill Bryson, via Mom

Your life ahead of you isn’t a fixed span, it’s every moment you haven’t lived yet. That mindset changes how you show up in the present.

Don’t Hurry, Don’t Worry

"We’re here for such a short time."

In high-pressure environments, leaders tend to push for more speed, more output, more urgency. But urgency without joy burns people out. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do for your team is to slow down.

Remember You’re Alive

"Take a moment from time to time to remember that you are alive. I know this sounds a trifle obvious, but it is amazing how little time we take to remark upon this singular and gratifying fact." - Bill Bryson, via Mom

This isn’t about gratitude journals or elaborate mindfulness rituals. It’s about noticing the air in your lungs, the warmth of your coffee, the conversation with your colleague that made you smile.

Find Awe in the Details

"The secret of happiness is to enjoy the present, without regretting the past or worrying about the future." — Amelia Peabody, via Mom

And then there’s her list of tiny marvels:

15 minutes a day is 91 hours in a year.

A honey bee can flap its wings 200 times.

The fastest snail travels 1.3 centimeters.

“Will you marry me?” can change a life.

If you look at the stars long enough, they shrink your troubles down to size. - Nathaniel Bowditch

It’s hard to stay small-minded when you remember how big and how intricate the world really is.

The Leadership Connection

Joy, humor, and curiosity aren’t “nice-to-haves” for leaders. They’re culture shapers. They make teams resilient, creative, and willing to take risks together.

And if you need a reminder, keep this one from my mom in your back pocket: Ice cream is important.

P.S. I’d love to hear from you. What’s one small, joyful thing that keeps you grounded?

Can We Make James Bond an Ally?

James Bond is the worst kind of teammate.

He seduces colleagues, breaks protocol, refuses backup, and dismisses authority, unless it comes from an old white man named M. He drinks on the job. He uses charm as a weapon. And when women say no, he hears it as negotiation.

Let’s be clear: Bond isn’t just problematic. He’s a walking symbol of white male privilege.

In Goldfinger (1964), Bond pins Pussy Galore to the ground in a barn until she stops resisting. In Thunderball (1965), he blackmails a nurse into sex. Throughout the franchise, his relationships with women blur every boundary of consent, agency, and dignity.

And yet, he’s iconic.

He’s celebrated as the embodiment of cool. Stoic under pressure. Loyal to the mission. Dressed to kill, literally and metaphorically. For generations, Bond has been the aspirational archetype of masculine success, especially in industries like defense, intelligence, finance, or tech, where individual brilliance and bravado still hold sway.

But here’s the question I’m interested in:

If we’re serious about inclusive leadership, what do we do with Bond?

Do we cancel him? Shame him? Mock his outdated tux and toxic charm?

Or… do we meet him where he is?

The Redemption Frame

Let me be clear: inclusion doesn’t need Bond. But if inclusion wants to reach the people who still idolize him, then it needs better strategies than moral superiority.

If we want culture change, we have to stop preaching to the choir. We need to learn how to translate the values of inclusion into incentives that make sense for people like him.

So let’s try it.

What drives Bond? Adventure. Excellence. Style. Loyalty. Resourcefulness. Charm. Mastery.

Now look at the values we associate with inclusive leadership: Empathy. Collaboration. Humility. Equity. Active Listening.

At first glance, these live in different worlds. But lets dig deeper, I think the overlap is surprising.

🎯 Mastery → Empowerment

Bond wants to be the best. Inclusive leadership demands it, but not just at the individual level. Real mastery today means building teams that outperform because everyone has a voice.

🕶️ Charm → Empathy

Bond’s charisma works in one direction: manipulation. But if he learned to listen with curiosity, not just charm with intention, he’d be a better agent and a better human. Emotional intelligence isn’t weakness, it’s power with range.

🧠 Resourcefulness → Flexibility

Inclusion often looks like adaptability in action: reading the room, shifting strategy, recognizing when a different voice needs the mic. That’s espionage 101. He’s already halfway there.

🧭 Bravery → Advocacy

Bond thrives on risk. But the bravest move he could make today? Challenging his peers. Defending someone who’s been marginalized. Using his power to change systems, not just survive them.

So Can We Make Bond an Ally?

Maybe. But not by making him feel ashamed. Not by lecturing him on terminology.

We reach him by showing that inclusive leadership doesn’t dilute his strengths, it sharpens them.

We offer him a new mission: to use his brilliance, loyalty, and courage not to dominate others, but to elevate them. To stop seeing inclusion as political correctness and start seeing it as the next level of operational excellence.

We don’t need Bond to be soft. We need him to evolve.

Because leadership today isn’t about commanding fear. It’s about earning trust. And trust doesn’t come from secrecy, seduction, or strength alone. It comes from presence. Listening. Accountability. And the willingness to change.

P.S. This article isn’t really about Bond. It’s about the millions of people who still admire him. And if we want inclusion to win, we need to stop writing off power, and start rewiring how it works. Let's make room for redemption. Even in a tux.

Culture Clash or Leadership Crash?

When leadership fails in international teams, we often blame the culture clash. But what if the real issue isn’t cultural difference, it’s leadership inflexibility?

Okay. Bear with me.

A common myth in global workspaces is that leadership is somehow “neutral.” That if you’re a good leader in one context, your skills naturally transfer across borders, languages, and cultural codes.

But that’s not how leadership works.

Because leadership is never culturally neutral. It’s homegrown, rooted in the values, norms, and procedures of where we learned to lead.

And in international teams, that’s exactly where the trouble begins.

Scandinavian Style Meets Global Reality

Take Scandinavian leadership as an example. It’s known for being flat, consensus-driven, and informally human. Great qualities, especially within teams that value egalitarian dialogue and independence.

But drop that same style into a context that expects hierarchical clarity, formal decision-making, or direct communication, and suddenly it looks… passive. Vague. Ineffective.

This isn’t just a Scandinavian problem. It happens everywhere.

For example, my American assertiveness oftentimes clashes with Nordic modesty.

None of these styles are wrong. But they become liabilities when leaders mistake them for universal best practices instead of culturally specific norms.

Leadership That Doesn’t Adapt… Fails

We don’t just lead across time zones. We lead across expectations, assumptions, and invisible rules. And that means being a “good leader” in one context doesn’t guarantee anything in another.

What works with your home team might flop with your global team. And if you don't pause to understand that - if you don't unlearn before you lead - you’re not bridging cultures. You’re just imposing your own.

The Fix Isn’t Fluency. It’s Flexibility.

You don’t need to master every cultural nuance to lead well across cultures. But you do need to let go of the idea that your way is the way.

Here’s a simple framework to start:

🎧 Listen First. Don’t assume silence means agreement or that pushback means disrespect. Understand the norms before you interpret the behavior.

📍 Name the Norms. Be explicit about how decisions are made, what feedback looks like, and how conflict is handled, then invite conversation around it.

🔄 Stay Flexible. Adapt your leadership style based on what the team needs, not what you’re used to.

🧭 Lead with Humility. It’s okay to get it wrong. But the real credibility comes from how quickly you’re willing to learn and how visibly you’re willing to adjust.

Global Teams Deserve Global Leaders

If you want innovation, resilience, and trust in a global team, then your leadership needs to meet people where they are - not where you’re comfortable.

So the next time a team dynamic feels off, ask yourself: Is this a culture clash? Or is this a leadership crash waiting to happen?

P.S. These cultural misalignments aren’t a sign of failure. They’re an opportunity. If your leadership team is navigating global complexity, let’s talk about how to build inclusive practices that span cultures and performance metrics.

Why Maturity Gets Misjudged in the Workplace

You know that feeling when you return home, and, no matter how much you've grown, your sibling still teases you like you're twelve? My brother and I do it every time we see each other. We can cut through four decades of growth with a single eye roll or joke, and suddenly we're back at the kids' table.

That’s not just family dynamics. It’s a blueprint for something that plays out in professional life too. A phenomenon I call the bias loop, when someone’s early missteps or immaturity at work become their permanent label.

And once it sticks? Good luck growing past it.

The Problem Isn’t Growth. It’s Perception

Plenty of people mature. They gain confidence. They build skills. They evolve. But often, their team doesn’t see it.

Managers remember the awkward presentation, not the polished one, six months later. Peers recall the meltdown, not the recovery. And over time, even the maturing professional starts to believe that version of themselves is the “real” one.

It’s like emotional muscle memory. We snap back into our old roles because that’s the role everyone still expects us to play.

The Cost of Frozen Perception

This isn't just frustrating, it’s organizationally expensive.

• High potential staff stay stuck in junior positions because “they’re not ready”, even when they clearly are.

• Team dynamics stagnate, with little room for people to shift, adapt, or lead in new ways.

• Retention suffers, as employees realize the only way to be seen differently is to leave entirely.

It’s not a performance issue. It’s a perception trap. And the longer someone stays on the same team, under the same manager, the harder it is to escape.

Why It’s So Hard to Reset

The workplace often rewards narrative consistency over human complexity. That’s why it's easier for an external hire to be seen as “leadership material” than someone who’s grown quietly over five years inside the company.

And it’s why so many smart, mature, emotionally intelligent professionals leave. Because they have to go elsewhere to be taken seriously.

What Organizations Can Do to Break the Bias Loop

🌀 Rotate roles or teams more intentionally. Give maturing employees the chance to reintroduce themselves to new colleagues with a clean slate.

🎯 Train managers to revisit old narratives. Feedback shouldn’t fossilize. Equip leaders to periodically re-assess strengths and name growth when they see it.

🗣️ Normalize self-reinvention. Encourage employees to reflect publicly on how they’ve grown. Let them own their evolution, rather than hoping someone else notices.

🤝 Make space for “re-entry.” Offer internal candidates the same curiosity and openness you’d extend to an external applicant. Ask, “Who is this person now?” not “Who were they back then?”

Everyone Deserves the Right to Outgrow Themselves

We talk a lot about inclusion in terms of who gets in the door. But inclusion is also about who gets to grow, who gets to change, and who gets to be seen anew.

So the next time you find yourself mentally labeling someone based on who they were a year ago or five: pause. Ask yourself: Who are they now?

Because maybe it’s not immaturity that’s holding them back. Maybe it’s their story we haven’t updated.

P.S. If your team is trying to level up its feedback culture, talent retention, or inclusive leadership mindset, this is an often overlooked issue that is worth addressing. Let’s talk about how to build teams that grow with their people, not past them.

What a 16-Year-Old Taught Me About Leadership

When Judith M Markgraf-Bye gave her 16-year-old son Erik a copy of my book The Sins and Wins of Inclusive Leadership, I assumed it would land the way leadership books usually land with teenagers: admired politely, skimmed lightly, maybe placed on a shelf next to school binders and video game controllers.

I did not expect to be humbled.

But Erik - calm, thoughtful, funny, and sharp - read it, reflected on it, and reached back out to me with insights that would put some seasoned executives to shame.

We had a conversation I’ll never forget. Here’s what he taught me.

“I want to be seen as a good guy.”

That’s how Erik started. When I asked what drew him to the book, he said:

“I like to motivate others... I want to be seen as a good guy. A person who cares about his friends - even strangers.”

He didn’t say he wanted to be “a boss.” He didn’t say he wanted to be in charge. He said he wanted to understand how others saw him, and learn to lead better from their perspective.

That’s not just emotional intelligence. That’s emotional maturity. And Erik’s generation is growing up with it baked in.

“Not everybody gets seen.”

Erik was struck by a story in the book about the importance of acknowledging someone’s experience. That story resonated because he sees the opposite happening at school:

“There are more quiet people in my class… and they often get set with assignments they don’t want to do. If somebody who doesn’t talk a lot doesn’t like drawing, they still get put on drawing.”

Instead of accepting that as “just the way school works,” Erik takes initiative. He seeks out classmates like Fredrik (not his real name) - someone quieter, less socially integrated - and talks to them one-on-one.

“I asked him, ‘What do you need from me? What can I do for you?’ He started talking a lot… he said, ‘I don’t want to do this. I’d much rather do this other part. I’m better at this.’ So I acknowledged what he was good at.”

That’s textbook inclusive leadership. From a 16-year-old.

“It’s really hard to make friends… especially for boys.”

When I asked Erik what inclusion meant to him, he didn’t skip a beat. He brought it straight to social life:

“In Norway, it can be really hard to make friends… especially at my age. The boys? They’re very bad at including people.”

He explained how fixed social groups become, how difficult it is to break into them, and how easy it is for someone to be left out, especially someone who doesn’t fit the mold.

“It’s often the same boys who go to parties together. They don’t like to include the smaller guys. And I think that’s such a stupid reason.”

He shared how one of his best friends was excluded from New Year’s Eve plans. So Erik invited him.

That’s the kind of allyship we often hope leaders will practice. Erik just does it.

“Be open to new ideas.”

Toward the end of our conversation, I asked Erik what advice he’d give a global CEO.

His answer?

“Be open to new ideas. The world is changing rapidly. If you learn new tools, you get an advantage.”

He used AI as an example, how embracing change, even when it’s uncomfortable, is a competitive advantage. His framing was future-oriented, optimistic, and practical. This is what we ask of senior leaders every day. Erik gets it.

Final Words

When I asked what kind of leader he wants to become, Erik didn’t say, “famous” or “powerful.”

He said:

“I want to build a good circle around me… I’ve been told that you become your circle. And if I’m surrounded by good people, nice people, people who have good values, I think that will help me achieve my goal.”

I’ve worked with thousands of leaders, executives, politicians, startup founders, and I mean this sincerely:

Erik is already one of them.

He doesn’t need a title. He already leads with empathy, initiative, and integrity.

And if this is the future of leadership, we’re in very good hands.

P.S. To everyone who’s ever handed this book to their child: thank you. I wrote it for CEOs. But it turns out some of the most powerful readers haven’t even graduated high school yet.

Let’s make room for them. They’re ready.

Turn Training into Gaming: Why Leaders Should Stop Making Learning a Chore

Let’s be honest: most corporate training programs are boring. They feel like punishment for having a job. And the worst part? They’re not even effective. People forget what they heard, resist what they’re told, and check out halfway through.

So how do we fix it?

We turn training into gaming.

I don’t mean slapping a leaderboard on a compliance course. I mean treating workplace learning like something people want to do. Something that sparks joy, drives behavior, and invites curiosity.

This isn’t about fun for fun’s sake. It’s about motivation science. And it’s about good design.

What Gamification Gets Right (That Training Often Doesn’t)

When done well, gamification taps into what I call the Compete, Complete, Delight framework:

⚔️ Compete: Not in a “crush your coworkers” way, but in a “challenge yourself” way. When people feel like they’re playing to win, they show up differently. They engage more fully. They take risks. They care.

🎯 Complete: It gives people clear goals and visible progress. Think levels, missions, or milestones that show what success looks like and why it matters.

🎈 Delight: This is the secret ingredient. Most training forgets the power of delight. Gamification adds surprise, humor, and creative expression, elements that stick with people long after the workshop ends.

Those aren’t just features of good games. They’re the backbone of good learning.

Inclusive by Design

What makes this even more powerful is that gamification - when done right - isn’t just engaging. It’s inclusive.

Games naturally accommodate different learning styles, personalities, and strengths. They create space for introverts to shine, for non-native speakers to participate, for people with varied abilities to contribute meaningfully.

In other words: when you design learning experiences with gamification principles, you’re not just making them more fun. You’re making them more fair.

A Case in Point: Nordic Tech United

In my course at Kristiania, I give students a fictional company called Nordic Tech United. Their challenge? Design a gamification strategy to increase collaboration, motivation, and inclusion across departments.

What do the best students come up with?

• Cross-team missions that blend marketing, R&D, and ops.

• Micro-badges for unexpected wins like “Best Listener” or “Silent MVP.”

• Leaderboards that track collaboration, not just competition.

They don’t just build games. They build culture.

What You Can Do Today

If you're running a team, designing a learning program, or rethinking employee engagement, try this:

• Audit your current trainings. Where are people disengaging?

• Inject one of the Compete Complete Delight elements. A point system? A progress tracker? A small, playful twist?

• Invite your employees to co-design the experience. (The best games are always user-tested.)

Final Thought

Learning shouldn’t feel like a lecture. It should feel like a quest.

So stop making training something people have to endure. Make it something they want to beat.

P.S. This article was inspired by a recent conversation with Canon EMEA’s Helga Schiermeier and draws directly from the Gamification & Inclusion module I teach at Kristiania University of Applied Sciences. If you’re reimagining how your company approaches learning and culture - especially in diverse teams - I’d love to chat.

From Cross-Functional to Cross-Cultural: The Overlooked Entry Point to DEI Skills

If your leaders know how to collaborate across departments, they already know how to practice inclusion. They just don’t call it that yet.

When we talk about DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) it often feels abstract. Heavy. Politicized. Executives start squirming. Managers shut down. Teams disengage.

But here’s the truth: If you’ve ever worked on a cross-functional team, you’ve already practiced the core skills of inclusion.

Same Skills, New Context

Let’s say you’re in marketing, and you’re working with engineering.

You already know:

• You have to listen differently.

• You need to translate your language.

• You have to adjust your expectations.

• You probably won’t get it right the first time but you’re committed to the collaboration.

That’s not just project management. That’s inclusion in action.

Now replace “engineering” with “a colleague from a different culture.” Or “a woman navigating a male-dominated room.” Or “someone who’s neurodivergent or LGBTQ+.”

The skills are the same:

• Decentering your perspective.

• Listening for what’s not being said.

• Adapting your communication style.

• Creating space for other voices to shape the outcome.

Inclusion isn’t an HR initiative. It’s a professional skillset. One we’re already using, we just haven’t named it as such.

Why This Reframe Matters

Many leaders resist DEI because it feels like “extra” work. But when you show them it’s the same skillset they already use to collaborate across disciplines, they stop resisting and start recognizing.

This reframing turns theory into action. It moves inclusion from “a value” to “a behavior.”

It also makes it scalable. Because now you’re not waiting for everyone to become a social justice expert, you’re just teaching them how to be better teammates.

So How Do You Make It Stick?

Here’s how you can start translating cross-functional skills into cross-cultural ones:

🎯 Teach Transferability: Help leaders map what they already do (e.g., navigating product vs. legal) onto more human-centered contexts (e.g., navigating gender or culture differences).

🎧 Normalize Listening as a Strategy: Treat listening not as passivity but as an active, essential leadership function.

🔁 Practice Decentering: Shift the lens from “how I see it” to “how they might experience it”, a key move in both team and identity inclusion.

💬 Make Feedback Loops Inclusive: Create channels that allow for diverse perspectives to shape process, not just react to outcomes.

Inclusion Isn’t a Leap. It’s a Lateral Move.

If your team knows how to navigate the friction of finance vs. creative, or compliance vs. customer experience, they already have what it takes to build inclusive teams.

They just need help seeing it.

P.S. I’ve been working with leaders across tech, pharma, education, and consulting who are burned out on theory but hungry for real tools. If you’re building leadership programs that want less jargon and more skill, let’s talk.