Missing out on the brilliance our teams have

On my travels I’ve collected a little gallery of absurd signs. One barked, “SIGN NOT IN USE.” Another warned, “OPEN THE DOOR BEFORE ENTERING.” Helpful, I suppose, for anyone prone to head butting wood.

A friend sent me a gem from an airport lounge: “95% of our coffee is fairly sourced.” Which begs the obvious—what dark corner did the other 5% come from? Children’s hands? A smuggler’s basement?

This is the myth of neutrality. We celebrate not being bad as if it’s the same as being good. Schools, workplaces, whole communities define themselves by what they won’t do: don’t be rude, don’t complain, don’t criticise. Fine. But that’s not progress—that’s just neutral.

It’s like in sport: the point isn’t avoiding a loss. The point is winning.

Take this conversation I had with my son’s teacher:

“Do you have any questions, Mr Arnold?”

“Yes. Does my son show kindness? Does he look out for others? What lights him up?”

“Well… he’s lovely. But he struggles with maths and reading.”

“Alright, how about art and sport? He loves those.”

"Oh yes, he’s very good at art. But we pull him out of those lessons for extra maths.”

“So, you take him out of what he’s thriving in, to fix what he’s failing in?”

“Yes.”

Staggering.

Of course maths and reading matter. But the instinct is telling: we pour energy into patching weaknesses rather than amplifying brilliance. We aim for standardised adequacy instead of brilliant flourishing. And the reality is we are so scared that people may 'fail' at something, we miss out on all the good they can bring.

Workplaces do the same. Staff reviews circle around “areas for improvement” and "professional development" like vultures. Strengths? They’re politely acknowledged, never strategically invested in. We chase adequacy, not excellence. Neutral, not electric.

One company says: “We don’t criticise unfairly. Leaders’ doors are always open. Workspaces are tidy.” Fine. Neutral. Another says: “We go out of our way to encourage. Leaders don’t hide in offices. We make our spaces inspiring—and yes, there’s great coffee and fresh croissants.” That’s not neutral, that’s flourishing.

We don’t need workplaces that merely avoid making people miserable. We need workplaces that actively help people to be joyful, challenged, creative, fulfilled. And the beautiful by-product of that is that misery, stress, and despair recede into the background.

It took me time to see that what I really needed from my team was not a group of people whose weaknesses had been ironed flat, but individuals whose strengths were given room to shine. It was easier to cover for someone’s shortcomings than to inspire a team where no one had weaknesses, but no one had great strengths either.

We’ve become obsessed with avoiding failure. But that’s not the same as pursuing greatness. You don’t win by stopping yourself from losing. You win by playing to your strengths—loudly, unapologetically, brilliantly.