“I can’t do that here (yet).”
I hear it in different forms from brilliant people who feel stuck. I think of the subject matter expert who became a global leader in a different field, the leader who changed their relationship with a bullying boss, and the transformation specialist who stopped asking what everyone else wanted from them and began asking what they wanted to make possible.
Sometimes the system needs to change. Sometimes we do. Usually, it’s both.
I’ve written about what happens when we add one small word: yet.
“I can’t do that here.”
It’s a phrase I hear a lot. Not always in those exact words. Sometimes it sounds like, “I don’t have the authority”, “Someone else would have to make that decision”, “That’s just not how things work here” or “I’ve tried before and nothing changed.”
They’re said at every level.
Yes CEO’s and MD’s as well as board members. So you aren’t alone.
There may be a perfectly good reason for every one of those statements. But I’ve always been interested in what happens when we add one small word.
Yet.
“I can’t do that here… yet.”
It doesn’t mean pretending that the constraint isn’t real. It doesn’t mean that everything is possible if we believe hard enough, work longer or become more resilient. And it certainly doesn’t place all the responsibility for overcoming a difficult system onto the person trying to lead within it.
But it does stop a difficult truth becoming a full stop. It opens up a different set of questions.
‘I’ can’t do that here. Becomes - Who could? Who has the authority? Who has the influence? Who would need to be involved, and what might you need to do to engage them?
I ‘can’t’ do that here. Becomes - What exactly are you trying to achieve? Are you attached to the outcome or simply one way of reaching it?
I can’t do that ‘here’. Becomes - What is it about this organisation, team or system that makes it difficult? Is it the formal governance, the informal power, the relationships, the incentives, the culture, the capability or the politics?
And, perhaps most importantly, what would need to change for it to become possible?
Stuck
Many of the people I work with feel stuck. They are also brilliant people. They are knowledgeable, experienced and very good at what they do. They have strengths they may no longer notice, relationships they may not be using and plenty of evidence that they are capable of more than they currently believe.
I’ve seen it, I’ve lived it and I’ve navigated it. More importantly I’ve helped many overcome it.
Coaching isn’t about finding what is wrong with someone and fixing it. It is often about understanding what you already have, then diagnosing what is interfering with your ability to use it.
Sometimes there is a gap in knowledge or skill. Sometimes it is a belief, an assumption or a habitual response. Sometimes your values have become misaligned with the organisation around you. Sometimes you have spent so long responding to what everyone else needs that you have lost sight of what you want; and some of the bravery you once had to drive for what is needed. And sometimes the system, process or political reality really is getting in the way.
That distinction matters.
The answer to a broken system isn’t simply to become more resilient. At the same time - it’s also important for each and every one of those who lead to identify what are systemic and personal constraints so that we don’t surrender our own agency - but instead apply it and grow it, in order to deliver and influence change.
Stewardship
Stewardship asks us to look in both directions.
What needs to change around me, and what might need to change in me?
What do I have the authority to decide?
What can I influence? What requires other people?
What might I have to accept, and what should I no longer be willing to accept?
Sometimes the system is the problem. Sometimes we are participating in the pattern that needs to change. Usually, both are true.
I specialise in helping people find a way through. Their way.
Sometimes we zoom out and map the situation.
Where are you trying to get to?
Where does formal authority sit, and where does power actually sit?
Who might support the change?
Who might resist it?
What do they care about?
What needs to happen first?
What would make the next move legitimate, credible and possible?
And
What might it cost, personally, politically or organisationally, to make it?
At executive level, the next move is rarely just an act of courage. It may require building a coalition, changing the forum in which a decision is being made, creating evidence, reframing the proposition, repairing a relationship or developing a capability. It may also mean recognising when continued influence is no longer enough.
Sometimes the work is more internal.
You may need to believe that you are capable of something before you can begin acting as though they are. You may need to recognise your own worth, challenge a story you have been telling yourself for years or notice that what once kept you safe is now keeping you stuck.
And sometimes you just need a sliver of sunlight. Not a complete answer or false optimism. Just enough possibility to see that there might be a way through, and enough reason to keep going.
One question
One question I often ask is:
If you could have what you wanted in one, two or three years, would you?
Usually, the answer is yes. So we work backwards. What would you need to think, feel, do and have in place? What would help you stick at it, quarter by quarter, when it gets difficult?
Meaningful progress rarely happens in one enormous leap. It happens conversation by conversation, decision by decision and move by move.
I think of the subject matter expert who became a global leader in a completely different field three years later. The leader who found the confidence and clarity to have a conversation that changed their relationship with a bullying boss. The person who recognised their worth so fully that they began looking for a different context, one that better served them, their values and their ambitions.
And I think of the transformation specialist who had spent much of their career asking, “What is everyone else asking of me?”
We began asking a different question: “What do I actually want?”
For someone naturally drawn to serving others, that can be surprisingly difficult. Not what should I want? Not what would be useful to the organisation? Not what would people expect of me? What do I want?
Often - those I work with align what I want - with what is needed; today, tomorrow and beyond our lifetimes - that is the lense of the stewards I work with.
Leadership: Agency
I’m mindful to say that this isn’t an argument against servant leadership. It is about remembering that leadership also requires agency. You can care deeply about the organisation, the people you lead and the change you’re trying to create without making yourself disappear inside other people’s expectations.
So we might look ten years ahead. Where do you actually want to be? What do you want to be known for? What would you need to experience, learn or acquire in your next move? What would need to change? What would you need to stop doing? Who might you need to become?
And then we might bring it closer.
What could you do in the next year? What could you do this quarter? What could you do next?
That is a very different conversation from simply asking, “What do people need from me?” It becomes: “What do I want to make possible?” and when we ocus upon that - the “I cant do that here” becomes “how do I find a way?”.
Meaningful Progress
Sometimes the answer really is somewhere else. Another organisation.
Sometimes someone else needs to act. Sometimes the system genuinely needs to change. Sometimes the political or organisational cost is greater than the value of the outcome.
And sometimes, after looking honestly at the possibilities, leaving is not a failure of influence. It is an act of stewardship towards yourself and the contribution you still want to make.
But there is often a space to leave well, to learn and adapt before you leave - to such a degree that you don’t say “I cant do that here” - in the next role; istead you say “I can”.
That is why I like the word yet.
“I can’t do that here” closes the conversation. “I can’t do that here yet” opens one. Not because it promises that everything is possible, but because it asks us to understand what is making it impossible, what might be changed, what it would cost and whether it matters enough to try.
That’s often where meaningful progress starts.
That’s where my coaching starts - with the impossible beginning to feel possible.
What about You?
If something in this resonates and you’d like to share waht, why or how - or indeed talk it through; just reply.
stefan@stefanpowell.co.uk