When were you last accused of something you didn't recognise in yourself? I'm not the sort of person who dashes over the moment an ambulance or fire engine goes past, just to catch a glimpse of someone else's misfortune. Yet I was recently branded a rubbernecker — for calmly waiting while someone tried to extricate themselves from an awkward manoeuvre in a car park. And that's how this blog got its title. Reaction My first instinct was to ask this gentleman what on earth possessed him to call me a rubber necker, when all I'd done was wait patiently while he manoeuvred his car out of the disabled parking bay he'd wrongly parked in. I didn't do it. But the thought lingered — and that, to me, was the most interesting part of the whole episode. Because moments earlier, I'd deliberately made space to be kind. So why did that so quickly tip over into wanting to be just as unkind back? Struck a nerve Looking back, it wasn't really about how this man had reacted at all. Something else triggered my response. I didn't feel taken seriously for what I'd actually done — namely, making room, showing patience, being kind. I got angry because I felt unfairly treated. In hindsight, that gut reaction taught me quite a bit. Anger Anger tends to get a bad press, as though it's something you shouldn't show, or should be ashamed of. We've all been there, though. And there's often something to learn from it. In my case, it touched on something I'd experienced as a child: the feeling of not being respected. One of my mentors once taught me that a reaction like this usually means there's "still something to work through." He was right. Even after all these years, that uncomfortable feeling still resurfaces from time to time. The good news: I recognise it far more quickly now than I used to. Opportunity This particular incident seems to be harmless in itself. Someone gets frustrated because their own mistake has been witnessed by somebody else. What if exactly the same pattern happens in the workplace. Think of an employee who doesn't feel heard in a meeting. A remark that lands harder than intended. A sense of "not mattering, just for a moment." The intensity of someone's reaction often says far more about what's been touched on than about the incident that triggered it. As a manager, that's an opportunity — not to dismiss the reaction as overblown, or to call this person out for their conduct, but to open a conversation about what's really going on beneath the surface. You're a rubbernecker Not every flash of anger needs unpacking. But sometimes it's worth asking: what exactly got touched on here? What makes someone react this way? And what can you learn from it? Often, the answer lies well beyond the specific incident. In my case, at least, it showed me that the childhood feeling of not being taken seriously still surfaces occasionally — and that it belongs to the past, saying nothing about who I am today. I wasn't a rubbernecker that day. But I was reminded, once again, just how much can lie behind a single word in a car park. Do you recognise these kinds of moments — where a small event triggers a disproportionately large reaction? See it as an opportunity to discover what such reactions are telling you, rather than brushing them aside.

What feels obvious isn't always easy to let go. Some choices seem obvious. Is it like that? You chose the right education, found a good job, took the right steps — and yet it felt more like an obligation than a voluntary choice. As if you had something to make up for, or couldn't disappoint someone, even though no one had ever actually asked you to. It was simply something you had to do. Doubt I witnessed this clearly a while ago, during a leadership training I was facilitating. One of the participants — the son of refugee parents — had built an impressive career and, recognised as a high potential, had been given the opportunity to join the training. He did what was expected of him: performing well, building a stable life, achieving something his parents had never had the chance to. On paper, everything was right. Yet somewhere during the training, doubts began to surface. Guilt That his parents had given up literally everything for their children weighed into nearly every decision he made — without him realising it. Not because his parents had ever asked him to. But because, deep down, he felt he owed it to them. They had sacrificed everything for him. Every step he took was, without him realising it, an answer to what his parents had given up. Obvious. He came to realise he was doing things he didn't fully believe in. He realised he was paying off a debt — not with money, but with the choices he made. It didn't feel like guilt. It felt obvious. Like, "this is just part of the deal." Out of love for his parents, out of loyalty, out of responsibility. Work hard, earn money, make sure your family never goes without. Until the moment you realise your own feelings no longer get a say. Question During the training, one question put wheels in motion: "What would your parents want for you most?" Not "What do they expect from you?" Not "What would make them proud?" But what would they, out of their deepest love for you, truly want for you? There was no ready answer. It took time before the insight began to land. His parents had never asked for compensation for what they had given up. They simply wanted their child to be happy — in his own way, free to make his own choices. Realisation Realisation came step by step, not in a single moment of clarity. But it kept growing, and eventually it was enough for him to dare choose a different path. Not an adjusted version of the old one, but a completely new direction — driven by his own ambition and passion instead of what he felt he owed. Loyalty This pattern isn't unique to children of refugees. It shows up wherever loyalty to one's parents — conscious or unconscious — comes to dictate what someone "ought" to do. It affects those whose families have become financially dependent on them, those who were the first in the family to go to university, and those who once felt a parent would only find peace of mind if they "made it" in life. Hence the question 'the life you live is it yours?'. Consideration If you recognise yourself in this, the question that unlocked everything for my trainee might be worth sitting with too: what would your parents want most of all for you? Not to shortchange your parents, but to draw the line again between what comes from loyalty and what comes from within yourself. Making that distinction is precisely where change begins. Do you recognise this, and is it something you'd like to explore further?

Stories of organisational failings are appearing more often in the media. Transgressive behaviour — sexual or otherwise — creates fear and insecurity at work. What stands out is the tendency to attribute these cases to a few bad actors. But is that the full story, or are we confronting a systemic failure? Dependence The cases I have seen share a clear pattern: a degree of dependency between the person experiencing the behaviour and the person exhibiting it. I avoid labels such as “victim” and “perpetrator” because they can be stigmatising and obscure possible organisational drivers. Unwanted behaviour is never excusable. Yet there may be more at play. Safety Organisations invest in policies and reporting routes to create safe workplaces. Still, much behaviour goes unreported. Despite greater attention to workplace safety, organisations often fail to deliver the level of safety that matters in practice. Why? Hierarchy The answer starts with power. Providing formal safety is not the same as actually making people feel safe. Managers and leaders frequently underestimate how power imbalances deter reporting. Raising a concern can make someone feel vulnerable, ostracised or at risk of losing their job or income. Faced with those stakes, many choose silence. The risk that boundary-crossing behaviour will be tolerated is therefore ever-present. A different approach So why do organisations claim, after each scandal, that they would do things differently “with the knowledge we have now”? Hierarchies are not new and neither is the risk of abuse. Nor will everyone necessarily have the resilience to speak up. Look deeper What if we dared to ask different questions: what drives the conduct? Could it be less about ambition or ego and more about powerlessness, fear of failure, scarcity or a need to be seen because people lack emotional tools to cope? That is work we can start today. We do not need new knowledge — we already know this. What we often lack is the courage to act. From my experience, asking the right questions with the right intent can unlock powerful insights even in a first conversation.

At the start of a new year, many people turn their attention to New Year's resolutions. Usually this starts with plenty of enthusiasm and great intentions. Unfortunately, these resolutions can crumble after just a few hours, a few days, or a few weeks. Why does it seem so hard to actually follow through on the changes we want so badly? Resolution The word itself already reveals why we so often fail to change things. What matters is that you actually engage with the change, rather than stopping at the resolution to change something. After all, if it stays a resolution, nothing changes. Intention In my view, what matters is the intention behind wanting to change something. Changing for the sake of change simply doesn't work. So the next time you decide you want to change something, first ask yourself: "why do I want this?" Very often, the answer to this fairly simple question turns out to be anything but simple. And there lies the reason so many New Year's resolutions fail. If you can't answer the most essential question behind a successful change, why would you expect to succeed? Support Of course it helps if, when you decide to quit smoking, the people around you support you. After all, once you say out loud that you want to quit, a bit of social accountability helps. But in my view, what matters far more is your own inner support and will to change. And don't get me wrong — I'm an ex-smoker myself. I, too, resolved to quit more times than I can count. That only changed about 20 years ago, when I could finally answer that one simple question with complete conviction. My resolution turned into a genuine intention, free of obstacles. In my work, I regularly meet people who have resolved to finally go for the promotion or career switch they've been circling for years. When I ask them "why do you want this?", it's not uncommon for an uncomfortable silence to follow — or for a flood of arguments to come out that quietly undermine the intention. Obstacles It can help to examine what obstacles you feel are standing between your resolution and actual change. Not easy — but so important. This, I believe, is where the key to success lies. After all, as long as those obstacles remain, a resolution is likely to stay just that — a resolution. The Search Finding what's holding you back isn't always easy. It often comes down to subtle things you may not even be aware of. Things like a sense of responsibility, shame, fear, guilt, or not feeling seen are all examples of this. There may also be other things at play, unconsciously holding you back from committing to the change with full conviction. Fortunately, it is possible to explore what's holding you back. Not through new resolutions, but simply by working with the right intention and an awareness of your obstacles. If you find this difficult, I'd be happy to help!

Or is the balance between work, personal life, and personal growth completely missing? Increasingly, alarming reports are emerging about young people living and working on the brink of burnout. Recently, an article in the Dutch Financial Times had the headline, “Young People with Burnout: Hype or Everyone's Problem?” This was followed a few days later by an article from a Dutch news station with the headline, “Number of Young Workers with Burnout Symptoms on the Rise.” Control What strikes me when reading these articles is why it seems difficult to pinpoint the cause of complaints like this. According to researchers, these issues are often caused by performance pressure, financial incentives, and the impact of the internet, social media, and the fear of missing out. This results in the loss of control over one’s own life. An interesting question in my opinion is, where does the responsibility for the loss of control lie? Dilemma In my neighborhood, I see countless examples of people who fit exactly into the picture the researchers paint. A busy job, a high mortgage or rent, often a parents with young children, a partner with an equally busy job, and a busy social life. And let's not forget the desire to personal growth. This can be driven by personal need or by the expectations of employers, partners, or environment. Being in such a situation, constantly trying to meet expectations and financial obligations, raises the dilemma: what choices do I make to better balance my life, and what am I willing to give up? Unaware What I notice is that people are often not even aware that they are losing control. In conversations, I notice an urgent need for a different way of living , yet they continue without really investigating the root cause. When the root cause is sought, often people feel that the ability to change falls outside their influence. The question is whether this is always the case. Awareness Employers often are not aware that some of their employees are 'on the edge' until they call in sick. Then there is attention, as work gets left behind or a temporary worker needs to be hired. If it lasts longer, a reintegration plan has to be drawn up to support employees in their recovery. Unfortunately, by then the employee is already long term sick, and the employer faces unforeseen costs. And when the employee is back to work after a long recovery process, the underlying cause is often not found. Boundaries In my coaching sessions, I ask people to critically examine the balance between work, personal life, and personal development. Not because it always has to change, but to investigate how they balance them. Often this immediately provides insight. Then it suddenly becomes understandable that with a busy job, a busy personal life, and huge ambitions, it's likely that you go beyond what is healthy Choices Insight helps. While it doesn’t eliminate all the stress factors mentioned earlier, it can help you regain control over your life by prioritizing. By recognizing and discussing causes, you can look for solutions. For example, accepting that sometimes your personal life requires more attention, making work or personal growth less prominent. It’s a matter of making choices. Balance I am convinced that people are ultimately more successful if they dare to make choices. I believe that this approach can significantly reduce stress or burnout-related absences.

When there is lack of trust, everybody loses Imagine working in an organisation where difficult conversations are consistently avoided. Unfortunately, this happens more often than we might think. Recently, I heard about an organisation where challenging discussions are systematically sidestepped. Underperforming employees are not coached on their behaviour; instead, they are kept in the dark about their performance, and when things really go wrong, they are transferred elsewhere. This gave birth to the title of this blog. Judgement My first reaction was, ‘How can management let this happen?’ I admit, I quickly formed a judgement myself. It was quite confronting to realise this as I began writing. After all, I’m expected to observe and listen without judgement. A Pattern Emerges Delving deeper, a clear pattern appeared. A manager displays inappropriate behaviour, and the organisation fails to respond adequately. Both employees and the manager suffer as a result. The consequences are predictable: high absenteeism, frequent turnover, motivation problems, and a poorly functioning department. And that’s not even considering the impact on the manager. It seems easier to request a transfer to make it someone else’s problem rather than giving the manager the opportunity to learn from their mistakes. Adressing the Issue By ‘adressing the issue’, I don’t mean simply relocating the manager to a new role or department. I mean addressing the behaviour itself and seeking the root cause — without judgement. Any form of judgement risks creating an unsafe environment for everyone involved. Employees hold back out of fear of repercussions. Managers hesitate to show vulnerability and ask for support. The organisation is left grappling with persistent problems. Everyone loses in this scenario. So, what makes it so difficult to have conversations about performance? I can only speculate. Leadership True leadership means initiating these conversations, creating a safe space, and treating everyone with respect — even when mistakes are made. After all, mistakes are essential for learning. In other words, we must talk about it. Only then can we uncover the underlying issues, respect everyone’s viewpoints, and investigate root causes. For clarity: this doesn’t mean agreeing with every opinion. I sincerely hope this organisation cultivates a culture where situations like these are not only recognised but openly discussed. Change begins with making things talkable. Perhaps the involved manager will finally have the space to reflect on their behaviour and its consequences — without being transferred for the fifth time. And how wonderful would it be if the team where this manager recently started could enjoy a leader who builds a trusting, high-performing environment where people are happy and openly share how rewarding it is to work together.

Sound familiar? Just back from holiday, and then that resignation you didn't see coming. It happens again every year, somewhere towards the end of August or the start of September. An employee returns from holiday and lets you know they've found another job. For the employee themselves, it's rarely a surprise. That doubt had been there for a long time. There simply hadn't been any room to talk about it. A while ago, a friend told me about someone he knew. An IT professional, driven and genuinely good at his job. He came back from his summer holiday with a clear message: he was leaving. No conflict, no incident, no burnout. Just the calm, fact-based conclusion that he'd been doing the same work for far too long, and that there had never been a moment to talk about anything other than the projects he did. Recognition This story isn't unique. I hear it more and more, particularly in roles where people are strong performers and, for that very reason, keep getting assigned to what they already do well. The work gets done, the results are good, so why would you change anything? It's a question almost nobody asks out loud. Until someone, on holiday, decides to answer it for themselves. Stalled What happened to this IT professional wasn't neglect in the classic sense. Nobody treated him badly. He did his job well, received good appraisals and the occasional pay rise. Predictable, manageable, low-risk. For the organisation, that was efficient. For him, it slowly became an invisible kind of stagnation — the sort you only notice once you've properly stepped away. Comfortable After a resignation like this, I hear the same explanations time and again. The job market is tight. Headhunters are working overtime, and good IT people get poached wherever they go. It was only a matter of time. All true, perhaps. But also all explanations that conveniently steer attention away from a more uncomfortable question: when did anyone last talk to him about what he still wanted to learn, rather than about the quality of his work? Attention Development and coaching are still too often seen as something for when things aren't going well, or as a reward for those performing above their level. Yet it's precisely that kind of attention — genuine interest in where someone wants to go, not just in what they deliver — that makes it possible to raise "the same work again" before someone reaches a decision about it alone, on holiday. Mirror The question on the table is usually: how do I prevent people leaving after the summer. That question comes too late, once the resignation is already on the table. So ask yourself instead: when did you last have a genuine conversation with someone on your team about where they want to be in five years, and what support they'd need to get there — inside or outside their current role? Not the annual review, focused on how satisfied you are or where there's room for improvement. A conversation without an agenda. Purely out of curiosity. If you can't answer that straight away, you probably already know enough.

How do you deal with doubt while everyone applauds loudly and no one asks critical questions? Increasingly I see leaders who are suffering. Not because of their team, not because of their strategy, but because of their own inner struggle about the choices they make. Why is that? And why is it so hard to change? Pattern When I look around, I keep seeing the same pattern. Why is it so difficult to actually realise the change so many people long for? I encounter this regularly in my coaching. And that’s without even mentioning the world news that hits us every day: world leaders who do not tolerate dissent, who suppress opponents or people with different views, or who remove people from their positions when they raise critical voices. Trust In conversations I often hear a lack of trust to engage in conflict. There is frequently fear of the consequences, or a lack of confidence in a positive outcome. In addition, there is a group of people who have no desire at all to break the status quo. Power, money and status often play a role. Ego — or is it fear? Fear Fear is rarely visible, but it drives decisions more often than leaders admit. From an evolutionary perspective fear has valuable meaning because it helps us survive in dangerous situations. It puts us into an elevated state of alert. Fear, however, also causes us to switch from long‑term thinking to short‑term thinking. After all, a solution must be found now to eliminate the danger. Risks It is precisely that short‑term thinking that creates risks. Micro‑management, keeping talented people small or holding them back, withholding information or maintaining and promoting ‘yes‑men’ because people who are critical are seen as a risk. Fear also creates uncertainty. This often reinforces the sense of insecurity, which again necessitates short‑term thinking. Dilemma And with that the circle seems complete and fear continues to rule. After all, we all crave acknowledgement and nobody likes to be rejected. What if someone doubts your loyalty or competence? Especially when that is also tied to whether you keep your position. A devilish dilemma that our ego is all too ready to exploit. But what would happen if, as a leader, you gave your most talented people the space and saw critical questions as an opportunity to learn? There is a good chance the ‘yes‑men’ won’t like it — after all, they never dared to do this. Something a leader must also take into account. Space Imagine status or power played no role. That leaders set their ego aside and ‘yes‑men’ no longer nod along. That they see critical voices and opposition as opportunities — as fuel for growth. Then a psychologically safe environment could arise for creativity, growth, dialogue and — where necessary —conflict, without fear of negative consequences. Perhaps that is the leadership organizations — and the world — are most longing for right now. Long‑term thinking, then. Maybe, just maybe, new leadership will emerge that so many people are desperately searching for.

To trust someone is not a given We are probably all familiar with this. Sometimes out of conviction, sometimes out of habit. But trust doesn’t work on command. Building trust takes time. And when trust is broken again and again, how likely are we to dare to trust again? Foundation When trust is damaged, something happens to people. They withdraw. They become cautious. We see it in organizations, and increasingly in society — often because of a lack of political leadership. The growing discontent in the Netherlands reveals what we already knew: trust is not a side issue. It’s the foundation. And when that foundation is missing, something else takes its place: distrust, distance, and eventually disengagement. Paradox In my training sessions, I often use Lencioni’s model — a pyramid that starts with trust. Only when trust is present do people dare to have real conversations, even about difficult topics.That’s when genuine commitment begins to grow. Among political leaders, we see something different. A lack of trust leads to conflict, and others often pay the price. Commitment is replaced by denial, and when things go wrong, responsibility is shifted elsewhere — the opposite of what we expect from good leadership. Opportunity What can we learn from this? In my view, when trust is missing, noise arises. And if that noise isn’t addressed, distance grows. As that distance widens, commitment fades, and connection disappears. That seems to be exactly what has been happening more and more in recent years. Parallel There’s another similarity. Politics is short‑term by nature — time is limited. Bold decisions that are good in the long run can be painful in the short term and may cost votes. Politicians don’t like that; the next election is never far away. I see the same pattern in organizations. Important long‑term decisions are postponed or avoided — not because people don’t want to decide, but because difficult conversations require courage and integrity. When decisions are delayed, uncertainty grows. And uncertainty erodes trust. Courage Courage doesn’t start with big words, but with a quiet choice. Do I trust myself, even when things get difficult? Do I stand for what I believe in — for what feels right or is necessary for the organization — unconditionally, regardless of how others respond? And do I accept the consequences of those choices? That’s where leadership begins — in politics, in organizations, and within ourselves. I try my best, but I won’t deny that it’s sometimes hard to make unconditional choices with full trust. And you? Where do you notice trust beginning to waver — in your work or in your life? And when it does, do you dare to talk about it — with others, or with yourself?

For many men, showing emotions after loss or grief doesn’t come naturally. I wonder why this is. Is it macho behaviour, shame, fear of losing control, or maybe fear of feeling vulnerable? Playing Hide and Seek
 What I notice, for example, is the wearing of large sunglasses at funerals. If you pay attention, you will see men (and women too) at every funeral wearing big sunglasses. The emotions are there, but it looks we find it difficult to show them in public. The question then is: who is fooling whom? Ego
 Many men still struggle to balance reason and emotion. The mind often says it is important to be successful, while the feelings say it is time to do things differently. In my work, I also often see that men find it difficult to admit they are touched by their emotions. What I notice in conversations is something strange happens. We start to rationalise. By rationalising, we step away from our feelings and let our head take over. Asking questions like ‘what could I have done differently?’ or ‘why is this happening to me?’ we search for rational answers. This approach often helps us find answers, but our feelings are not allowed to come along. And that is a pity, because the feelings were there and could have helped if we had allowed them in. In that respect, there is much to gain, and we can learn a lot from most women. Shame
 And why is it that we are allowed to show our emotions when we are happy or proud? Apparently, positive emotions are easily accepted. Could it be that it is not so much shame or fear of losing control, but vulnerability? If shame or control were the reasons, then you would expect men not to cheer loudly at a great sporting achievement or celebrate extensively when winning a very profitable contract. So, in our European culture, there seems to be a connection between the type of emotion and whether you are allowed to show it or not. Vulnerability
 Of course, it is sometimes difficult to be vulnerable and show your emotions — at work, in public, and even at home. For this, it is important to feel a certain level of safety. Fortunately, it is possible to create this safety. Not by changing other people, but by being open to your feelings the next time they arise and accept and embrace them rather then push them away.