A few weeks back, I was coaching a seasoned CEO.
She was frustrated, her head in her hands. Another board sub-committee started strong, then dropped the ball. Now, at the 11th hour, the CEO felt compelled to swoop in to save a project that was already over budget and behind.
Cue the finger pointing. Never helpful, but often the default. We’ve all played the game. Blame, despair, repeat.
It’s no surprise that a lot of EDs are phoning it in when it comes to working with their boards. I hear folks say, “Why bother? It seems like they don’t care.”
I get it. Leading in the diffuse, legislative environment that is the nonprofit sector can be EXHAUSTING. Been there, done that. (I nodded off during a board debate about painting new stripes in the parking lot—definitely not my finest hour).
The list never ends: managing staff, courting funders, navigating partnerships, keeping the mission afloat. By the time the board meeting comes, your “difficult conversation” tank is bone dry. We hide behind spreadsheets and trainings. We wave the white flag when a board member bulldozes a fresh idea. Some days, it’s easier to play “everything is fine” on repeat.
If that hits close to home, let me say this: you’re not weak. You’re human. And, truth bomb: you might be part of the problem. The antidote to resignation isn’t shame or avoidance; it’s honest, gutsy leadership.
The cost is steep: when you’re cynical and resigned, your ability to discern the right path forward atrophies, kinda like having a broken compass in your pocket. Every step feels uncertain. Discernment isn’t a superpower. It’s a muscle that gets stronger every time you flex your courage, one courage rep at a time.
The board (and your mission) needs your spark, not your silent surrender. You’ve got this. Let’s roll.
Resigned to Real in Four Steps
Stop hiding and start leaning into the discomfort. Remember: effective leadership sometimes means upsetting people, but only at a rate they can tolerate. You’re aiming for that sweet spot between challenge and paralysis.
Here’s the approach I walk my clients through—inspired by the Core Prime framework—to break out of the fear-fatigue-cynicism cycle. The goal is to recenter on the current reality, the future state, and the bridge in between the two.
Pause. Look Reality in the Eyeballs.
Leave your comfortable fiction behind.
Take a moment and analyze the situation. Where is your board actually stuck? Is it micromanagement or something system-wide? Maybe one member rehashes old complaints, or everyone nods without speaking. Don’t look away from the messiness. Your clear eye is your survival gear.
Ask yourself: What’s the story beneath the silence in the boardroom? What do you see that no one is saying?
Reflect. Step Off the Merry-Go-Round
If the boardroom keeps circling the same old debates, step off the ride. It’s hard to see the pattern if you’re dizzy.
Ask yourself: Where does the conversation lose altitude? Who shows up ready to move forward, and who’s just gripping the rails?
Look for glimmers: A comment that hints at commitment, an ember worth fanning.
Now, imagine what “great” would look like if the merry-go-round stopped—maybe it’s spirited strategy debates instead of endless micromanaging, or genuine curiosity instead of polite nodding.
Reflection isn’t retreat. It’s recalibration. It’s stepping out of the spin long enough to see where the real movement needs to happen next.
Strategize. Turn Your Complaint into a Commitment.
A client once said, “We’re great at talking, terrible at actually deciding things.” So, we turned every complaint into a question: what would it take to move forward?
Take what’s stuck or avoided, and ask what would turn it around. Look for viable, feasible, desirable solutions.
Instead of “They never listen,” try “How can I communicate my strategy so it actually lands?” Instead of “We’re stuck,” ask “What small experiment could crack this open?”
Remember, every “what if…” sparks creative thinking.
Act. Politely Escort the Elephant Out of the Room.
This is where the magic happens, friends. At first, it’s awkward to do something different. You might stumble, but it’s OK. Breaking out of old grooves—the domineering board and conciliating ED, or vice versa—opens the door to real possibilities and invites that elephant out, gently.
As I learned, both the hard and the good way, from Seth Godin, don’t fear sunk costs: if something isn’t working, cut it loose. Or, as I like to put it, go from bitching to bitchin’. Done is better than perfect. Forward is better than frozen. One good step at a time.
What will your one good step be? Hit reply and let me know; I really do read every note.
Onward!
Kimberley
