John’s side of the conversation

When you see something that concerns you and start walking towards the person involved, you probably think the conversation begins when you speak.

But John saw you coming. And the moment he did, a conversation started. It’s one you're not part of, one you can't hear, and one that will shape what's possible between you. Before you've said a word, John is already working through a set of questions. Not consciously, not deliberately, but they're running nonetheless.

Who are you?

Not your name or your story, but your standing. Your relationship to him and to this work. Are you someone he knows and trusts, or someone arriving with authority but without history? Have you been present, or do you appear only when something has gone wrong?

What do you want?

Are you here to understand something, or to deliver something? Is there genuine curiosity behind this approach, or is the conclusion already formed and the conversation just the vehicle for delivering it?

Why are you approaching me?

What did you see? What have you decided? John is already reading your body language, your pace, your expression. By the time you reach him, he has a working hypothesis about what kind of conversation this is going to be.

Are we on the same side?

This is probably the deepest question. Are you for him or against him? Do you care about what he cares about: doing good work, your standing amongst peers, being treated with respect? Or is this adversarial: a leader managing a deviation, a worker being managed?

Have you earned the right to challenge me?

Do you know this work? Have you been present in a way that gives you standing here? Or are you someone with a title and a clipboard, arriving from outside his world to tell him something about it?

John is trying to work out what kind of moment this is, and what is likely to happen next. And he's answering those questions before you've opened your mouth, based on everything he knows about how these conversations usually go.

If experience has taught him that these moments end in verdicts, that the leader arrives with a conclusion already formed and that the safest move is to give the expected answer, he prepares for that. He puts on the performance. He says what's needed. He waits for it to be over.

If experience has taught him something different, that these conversations are genuinely open, that what he says might actually change what happens next, he prepares for that instead. He thinks about what's actually going on. He gets ready to tell the truth.

What this means for you

The initial conversation already has a tilt. But that doesn't mean it is determined before it begins. History creates expectations, but expectations can be disrupted. 

The leader who pauses instead of pronouncing. Who receives an unexpected answer and actually changes course. Who admits they don't know something. Who shares something human in a world of roles and responsibilities. Those moments don't fit the script. And that can open something. The history doesn't disappear. But a single genuine exchange, one that doesn't follow the expected script, can shift what John believes is possible in these conversations. Over time, those moments are how the pattern changes.

People encounter leadership through particular people, in particular moments, carrying with them the history of previous encounters.  You can't undo what came before in a single conversation. But you can give John a different experience of what happens when someone walks toward him. 

/Daniel

PS I'm running a one-day safety conversations workshop in Dallas, Texas on 15 October 2026. Read more and register here.