The Person Who Didn’t Arrive
When promise doesn’t become practice, leadership must respond to what is present—not what was said.
They interviewed beautifully.
They spoke with confidence.
Used the right language.
Knew how to tell a story that made sense on paper.
They showed insight, curiosity, alignment.
They reflected back the values we named.
They felt like a good fit.
So I hired them.
What arrived afterward was someone else.
Not dramatically different—
that would have been easier to name.
Instead, it was subtle.
The follow-through didn’t match the words.
The accountability was selective.
The presence felt inconsistent—here in form, absent in practice.
I kept waiting for the person from the interview to show up.
I told myself they were still settling in.
That transitions take time.
That nerves can look like disengagement.
I wanted to believe in who they said they were.
But leadership teaches you this uncomfortable truth: who someone is under observation is not always who they are under responsibility.
The gap between promise and practice began to widen.
Deadlines slipped.
Ownership blurred.
Feedback was received politely—and ignored quietly.
I started carrying more than I should have.
Filling gaps.
Re-explaining expectations.
Managing around what wasn’t happening instead of addressing it directly.
That’s when the weight shifted.
Not because the work was hard—
but because I was holding disappointment alongside responsibility.
It’s difficult to name this kind of misalignment.
Because on the surface, nothing looks “wrong.”
There’s no single failure to point to.
No dramatic misconduct.
Just a quiet truth: this is not the person we hired.
And that realization brings grief.
Grief for the potential you believed in.
Grief for the trust you extended in good faith.
Grief for the version of the role you imagined taking shape.
It also brings doubt.
You replay the interview.
The questions.
Your instincts.
Did I miss something?
Did I want it to work too badly?
Water taught me something here.
Water does not stay suspended in midair because it was promised support.
It responds to what actually holds it.
Leadership, too, must respond to reality—not intention.
At some point, clarity becomes an act of care.
For the team.
For the work.
For the person who cannot—or will not—be who they represented.
Naming misalignment is not cruelty.
Avoiding it is.
I learned that hiring is an act of hope,
but managing is an act of honesty.
And honesty requires you to stop waiting for someone to become the version of themselves you hired—
and start responding to who is actually showing up.
That doesn’t always mean blame.
Sometimes it means boundaries.
Sometimes it means coaching.
Sometimes it means letting go.
What it always means is choosing the integrity of the work over the comfort of your expectations.
Now, when I interview, I still listen to words.
But I watch for something else too.
Consistency.
Ownership.
The way someone speaks about past responsibility.
Because people don’t just show you who they are when they’re trying to be chosen.
They show you who they are when something is required of them.
And learning to trust that—
without bitterness, without shame—
has been part of my own becoming as a leader.
Like water responding to gravity,
I no longer cling to what was promised
when what is present tells a different story.
I respond.
That, too, is care.