Hint: you've been coaching the wrong end of the roster.
Early on at Compete Every Day, I had a simple system for managing my best people. I'd give them direction, and then I'd get out of their way.
Christine was one of them. She ran point on fulfillment and event prep, and rarely needed anything from me, so in our one-on-ones I'd say "keep doing what you're doing" and spend my real coaching time on whoever was struggling that month.
I told myself I was being a good boss.
I'd heard the word "micromanager" thrown around so often that I was scared of earning it. So my top performer got my trust, my thanks, and almost no feedback.
Honestly, what stings is that I'm wired the opposite way.
I consider myself a high performer, and I want to be coached. I want someone to tell me where I can get better. I was withholding from my best people the exact thing I'd have been frustrated not to get myself.
It turns out the people furthest along are the ones who want it most.
Two researchers went into college classes and asked beginners and advanced students what kind of instructor they'd want:
- one who emphasized what they were doing well, or
- one who pointed out their mistakes and how to fix them.
The beginners leaned toward the encouraging instructor. The advanced students leaned toward the one who'd correct them.
Across four more experiments the pattern held: as people gain expertise, they stop looking for reassurance and start looking for what to fix.
In plain English, the better someone gets, the more they want to hear what they could do better.
I've spent the last month with leaders in sales, hospitality, and healthcare, and the same confession keeps coming up. The coaching hours go to the bottom of the roster, and the top gets a "great job" in the hallway.
That's how a strong team starts to drift. Your best people don't complain about it. They either settle into a pace they can hold without you, or they go find a leader who will push them. Then we act surprised by the resignation letter.
Great performers are always looking for an edge, and they shouldn't have to go hunting for it on their own.
So this week, pick your single best performer and block 20 minutes with them before Friday. Don't bring a compliment.
Bring one specific observation about where their game could go up a level, and ask one question: "Where do you want to get better, and what do you need from me to get there?"
Then write down what they say and put the follow-up on your calendar.
Leaving your best alone feels like respect. To them, it reads like you've stopped paying attention. Go coach the people who've earned it.
I'm cheering for you Reader, go win your week.