The Leadership Blind Spot You Don't Know You Have

By Sarah Beth Herman, MBA, Founder & CEO, Dentistry Support®

There are certain moments in business that stay with you long after they've happened. Not because they were the biggest wins you've ever had or the hardest days you've ever lived through. Those memories eventually soften. Instead, it's the conversations that make you rethink something you believed you understood.

I've had a few of those over the years. One in particular has stayed with me.

Someone had made the decision to leave one of my companies. It wasn't an ugly conversation. There wasn't anger or finger-pointing. We simply talked. I wanted to understand their perspective, and they were gracious enough to share it. At one point they said, "I've felt this way for a while." That sentence has probably occupied more space in my mind than they ever realized. Not because I was trying to defend myself. Because I genuinely wanted to understand what I had missed.

How long is "a while?" When did it begin? Was there a moment where I could have stepped in and changed the direction of things? Or had I become so focused on everything else that I simply stopped noticing? I don't know that leaders talk about those questions enough.

We spend a tremendous amount of time discussing how to build businesses. We attend conferences about scaling, marketing, profitability, systems, hiring, and leadership. Every year there seems to be another framework promising to help us become more efficient or more productive. Those conversations have value, I've benefited from many of them myself. But I've started wondering if we spend enough time talking about what happens to us as leaders while we're building those businesses. Because something does happen. The person who starts a company isn't leading from the same place five or ten years later.

In the beginning, you're close to everything. You answer the phones because no one else can. You know every client by name. You hear every complaint, every compliment, every success story, and every problem because you're usually the one handling it. There aren't many surprises because you're standing in the middle of everything that's happening.

Then the company grows. That's the goal, isn't it? You hire great people. You build departments. You create processes. Eventually, you stop doing every job because someone else is doing it better than you ever could. That's healthy. In fact, that's exactly what should happen.

But growth changes something we rarely acknowledge. It changes what we see. The larger an organization becomes, the more information has to travel before it reaches the person making decisions. Conversations become summaries. Experiences become reports. People become metrics. Not because anyone intends for that to happen. Because that's simply how organizations function.

I've thought about that a lot over the years. Success gives us influence, but it also creates distance. When I first started building businesses, I thought experience would eventually eliminate uncertainty. I assumed there would come a point where leadership simply became easier because I'd seen enough situations to know what to expect.

That hasn't been my experience at all. Some decisions become easier. You become more comfortable making difficult calls. You recover from setbacks more quickly. You stop believing every problem is the end of the world.

But people? People never become predictable. If anything, I've grown to appreciate just how complex they really are.

I've hired hundreds of people throughout my career. Some exceeded every expectation I had for them. Others struggled despite having every qualification on paper. I've watched quiet employees become remarkable leaders. I've watched outgoing personalities lose confidence after one difficult season. I've seen incredibly talented people flourish under one leader and slowly disappear under another.

The same person. Different environment.

That observation fascinated me because it challenged an assumption I didn't even realize I had. For a long time, I believed leadership was mostly about making good decisions. Today, I think it's just as much about paying attention.

Not to the obvious things. Anyone can see declining numbers on a report. Anyone can notice when productivity drops. Anyone can recognize when someone resigns. Those things are visible.

The harder work is noticing what isn't obvious yet. The colleague who has become unusually quiet. The employee who no longer volunteers ideas in meetings. The client who suddenly becomes short in their emails after years of friendly conversations.

None of those moments seem significant by themselves. In fact, if you noticed them at all, you might dismiss them. Maybe they're having a bad day. Maybe they're tired. Maybe they're distracted. Sometimes that's exactly what it is. Sometimes it isn't.

Researchers have spent decades studying why people choose not to speak up, even when they have concerns. Amy Edmondson's work on psychological safety suggests that people are far more likely to share ideas, admit mistakes, or raise difficult issues when they believe they can do so without embarrassment or negative consequences (Edmondson, 2019). That research is often discussed in the context of corporate culture, but I think its implications are much broader.

It made me realize something uncomfortable. If people don't feel safe enough to tell us what's really going on, the problem isn't always a lack of communication. Sometimes it's a lack of conditions that make honest communication possible.

That's a difficult thought for any leader because it's much easier to assume people would simply tell us if something was wrong. Experience has taught me otherwise.

People stay silent for all kinds of reasons. Sometimes they're trying to avoid conflict. Sometimes they don't want to disappoint someone they respect. Sometimes they assume their concern isn't important enough to bring up. And sometimes they've quietly convinced themselves nothing is going to change anyway.

As leaders, that's a sobering reality. Not because it means we've failed. Because it reminds us that leadership isn't measured only by what people say to us. It's also shaped by what they never feel comfortable saying at all.

Over the years, I've stopped asking myself whether I have an open-door policy. Almost every leader believes they do. The better question is this.

Do people actually feel comfortable walking through that door?

Those are two very different things. One describes our intention. The other describes someone else's experience.

I've learned that leadership is lived in the space between those two realities. And if there's one lesson I've carried with me from years of building companies, leading teams, and learning from my own mistakes, it's this.

The greatest opportunities for growth are rarely hidden inside the problems we already know about. They're usually found in the conversations we haven't had yet.

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One of the things I've learned over the years is that people are remarkably good at hiding how they're really doing. I don't just mean at work. I think it's true almost everywhere. Ask someone how they're doing, and most of us already know the script. "I'm good." "Busy." "Can't complain." It's almost automatic. We say it to the cashier at the grocery store. We say it to friends. We say it in meetings.

Sometimes we even say it to ourselves because it's easier than admitting we're overwhelmed. I think leaders fall into the same trap. We assume people are okay because they tell us they are. Maybe that's true. Maybe it isn't. I've learned not to build my leadership around assumptions. I've built businesses long enough to know that assumptions have a way of becoming expensive. Sometimes they cost you money. Sometimes they cost you great employees. Sometimes they cost you relationships that never quite recover.

What's interesting is that most of those situations don't begin with one big event. They usually begin with a series of small moments that don't seem important at the time. That's what makes leadership so fascinating to me. If you ask most people what leadership looks like, they'll probably describe the big moments. Standing on stage. Making a difficult decision. Giving an inspiring speech. Leading a company through a crisis. Those moments matter. But if I look back over my own career, I don't think the biggest impact I've had has come from the big moments. I think it's come from ordinary Tuesdays. A conversation in the hallway. Five extra minutes after a meeting. Picking up the phone when I could have sent an email. Stopping long enough to ask someone a second question after they answered the first one. Leadership doesn't usually grow because we say something extraordinary. It grows because people consistently experience us in ordinary moments.

I've also noticed something else. The longer someone works for you, the more dangerous assumptions become. When someone is new, we're intentional. We check in. We ask questions. We explain things carefully. We notice when something feels off because we're paying close attention. Then familiarity quietly settles in. We begin assuming we know how they're doing because we've worked together for years. We stop asking. Not intentionally. We just stop being as curious. I've caught myself doing that. I've assumed someone was doing well because they always seemed positive. I've assumed someone didn't need encouragement because they were dependable. I've assumed someone would tell me if something was wrong. Experience has humbled me enough to know those assumptions aren't always true.

Some of the strongest people I know carry the heaviest burdens. Not because they want to. Because they've become so reliable that everyone assumes they're okay. Have you ever noticed how often dependable people get overlooked? Think about that for a minute. The employee who never misses a deadline. The office manager who fixes problems before anyone else knows they exist. The friend who's always checking on everyone else. The spouse who quietly carries responsibilities without asking for recognition. The parent who keeps everything moving behind the scenes. Sometimes the people who need encouragement the most are the people least likely to ask for it.

That realization changed the way I think about appreciation. I used to think recognition was something you gave people after they accomplished something significant. Now I think recognition is one of the ways we help people continue accomplishing significant things. There's a difference. One celebrates the finish line. The other gives someone the strength to keep running. Researchers studying motivation have reached similar conclusions. Edward Deci and Richard Ryan's work on Self-Determination Theory suggests that people are far more likely to thrive when they experience competence, autonomy, and genuine connection with the people around them (Ryan & Deci, 2020). When I first read that research, I remember thinking how different it was from the conversations we often hear about motivation. We spend so much time talking about compensation, bonuses, incentives, and perks. Those things certainly have their place. But they don't replace something much more fundamental. People want to know they matter. Not someday. Today. Not after they earn another promotion. Not after they hit another goal. Now.

I've never forgotten something a mentor told me years ago. He said, "Never assume people know what they mean to you." At the time I thought he was talking about gratitude. Now I think he was talking about leadership. I've watched what happens when appreciation becomes something we save for retirement parties and farewell lunches. By then it's too late. Why do we wait until someone is leaving to tell them what they've meant to the organization? Why do we save our best words for someone's last day? Imagine if we spoke that way while people were still building the company with us. Imagine if we were as intentional about encouraging people as we are about correcting them. I don't think organizations would simply become happier. I think they'd become healthier.

There's a difference. Happy cultures come and go. Healthy cultures survive difficult seasons. Healthy cultures don't happen because everyone agrees all the time. Healthy cultures happen because people believe they can disagree without losing respect. They believe they'll be heard. They believe they matter. I think that's one of the greatest gifts a leader can give another person. Not certainty. Not perfection. Not all the answers. Simply the confidence that their voice has value.

Looking back, I realize that's what I've appreciated most about the leaders who shaped my own life. I don't remember every strategy they taught me. I don't remember every meeting we had. I don't remember every goal we accomplished together. What I remember is how they made me feel. I remember leaving conversations believing I could do more than I believed before I walked into the room. That's influence. And the beautiful thing about influence is that it doesn't require a title. It simply requires intention.

I think that's where leadership becomes deeply personal. Because every one of us leaves people feeling something after we've interacted with them. The question isn't whether we're influencing people. The question is whether people consistently leave our presence feeling more encouraged, more capable, and more valued than they did before the conversation started. I've been asking myself that question a lot lately. Not because I think I've mastered it. Because I think it's one of those questions that never stops making us better.

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A few years ago, I started paying attention to something I hadn't really noticed before. It wasn't the people who were struggling. Those are usually the easiest people to identify because the signs are visible. Performance changes. Deadlines get missed. Communication becomes inconsistent. Most leaders recognize when someone is having a difficult season.

What caught my attention were the people who seemed completely fine. The dependable employee. The steady office manager. The person everyone counts on because they never seem to need anything. Those are often the people we unintentionally overlook. Not because we don't appreciate them. Quite the opposite. We trust them so much that we assume they're okay.

The irony is that dependable people can become invisible precisely because they're dependable. They don't ask for recognition. They don't complain very often. They solve problems before anyone realizes a problem existed. Over time, everyone simply begins expecting that level of performance.

I've learned that consistency can sometimes hide exhaustion. The strongest people in the room aren't always carrying the lightest load. Sometimes they're simply carrying it quietly.

That realization changed the way I think about leadership. I used to believe my responsibility was to solve problems. Today, I think it's equally important to notice people before problems develop. Those aren't the same thing. One is reactive. The other requires awareness.

I've also stopped believing that leadership happens only during scheduled meetings or annual performance reviews. In fact, I think the most influential moments rarely appear on anyone's calendar. They're the conversations that happen while walking down a hallway. The extra five minutes after everyone else has left the room. The phone call you almost didn't make because your schedule was already full. The email that takes sixty seconds to write simply to acknowledge someone's effort.

None of those moments feel significant while they're happening. Collectively, they shape culture.

Culture isn't built through mission statements framed on a wall. Culture is built through repeated experiences. It's formed by the way people are greeted. The way mistakes are handled. The way disagreement is received. The way success is celebrated. The way people feel after spending time with you.

I've become convinced that every interaction answers a question people rarely ask out loud.

Do I matter here?

Not just as an employee.

Not just as someone who helps the organization reach its goals.

As a person.

I don't think that question ever completely disappears. Children ask it. Spouses ask it. Friends ask it. Employees ask it. Clients ask it. Sometimes without ever speaking the words.

When people consistently experience the answer as "yes," remarkable things begin to happen. Trust grows. Communication becomes easier. People become willing to take healthy risks because they know mistakes won't define them. Creativity increases because people no longer spend their energy protecting themselves. Healthy disagreement becomes possible because respect already exists.

Those kinds of environments don't happen accidentally.

They're built intentionally over time.

One conversation at a time.

One decision at a time.

One relationship at a time.

I realize that can feel overwhelming because leadership often feels like one more responsibility added to an already full schedule. I've felt that too.

Running businesses comes with constant demands. There are financial decisions to make, clients to serve, employees to support, technology to manage, regulations to understand, and unexpected problems that seem to appear without invitation.

It's easy to convince ourselves that we'll slow down later.

We'll have better conversations after this busy season.

We'll check in with people once things settle down.

The truth is, leadership rarely settles down. There will always be another project. Another deadline. Another challenge competing for our attention.

If we're waiting for leadership to become convenient, we'll spend our entire careers waiting.

I've learned that the best leaders don't necessarily have more time than everyone else. They simply become intentional with the moments they already have.

They choose presence over productivity when people need them.

They ask one more question before ending the conversation.

They notice what everyone else walks past.

They understand that influence isn't created during extraordinary moments.

It's accumulated during ordinary ones.

As I look back over my own career, I don't remember every strategic decision I've made. I certainly don't remember every meeting. What I remember are the people. The conversations that changed me. The encouragement someone offered at exactly the right moment. The leaders who believed in me before I fully believed in myself. The employees who challenged my thinking and made me better. The difficult conversations that taught me more than the easy ones ever could.

Those experiences shaped me far more than any business strategy.

Maybe that's because leadership has never really been about building organizations. Organizations are simply collections of people moving toward a common purpose. When we forget the people, we eventually weaken the organization. When we invest in the people, the organization almost always becomes stronger as a result.

Before you close this article, I'd encourage you to do one thing.

Think about one person you've worked with this week.

Not the easiest person.

Not the loudest person.

Think about the quiet, dependable person who consistently shows up.

The one who rarely asks for anything.

Reach out to them.

Tell them specifically what you've noticed.

Thank them for something only you could have noticed because you were paying attention.

You might be surprised by what that conversation means to them.

More importantly, you might discover it changes you as well.

Leadership has a way of doing that.

The more intentional we become about seeing others, the more clearly we begin seeing ourselves.

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Continue the Conversation

Next week on No Silver Spoons®, we're taking this conversation one step further.

In Episode 133, People Don't Leave Jobs Overnight, we'll explore what often happens long before someone decides to leave a job, a relationship, or an organization. We'll discuss why disengagement is rarely sudden, what neuroscience teaches us about belonging and psychological safety, and how leaders can recognize subtle changes before they become costly outcomes.

If you've ever found yourself wondering, "How did I not see it?" I think you'll find next week's conversation both challenging and encouraging. I'd love for you to join me.

References

Camerer, C., Loewenstein, G., & Weber, M. (1989). The curse of knowledge in economic settings: An experimental analysis. Journal of Political Economy, 97(5), 1232–1254.

Deci, E. L., & Ryan, R. M. (2000). The "what" and "why" of goal pursuits: Human needs and the self-determination of behavior. Psychological Inquiry, 11(4), 227–268. https://doi.org/10.1207/S15327965PLI1104_01

Dunning, D. (2011). The Dunning–Kruger effect: On being ignorant of one's own ignorance. In J. M. Olson & M. P. Zanna (Eds.), Advances in Experimental Social Psychology (Vol. 44, pp. 247–296). Academic Press.

Edmondson, A. C. (2019). The fearless organization: Creating psychological safety in the workplace for learning, innovation, and growth. John Wiley & Sons.

Goleman, D. (2006). Social intelligence: The new science of human relationships. Bantam Books.

Northouse, P. G. (2022). Leadership: Theory and practice (9th ed.). Sage Publications.

Ryan, R. M., & Deci, E. L. (2020). Intrinsic and extrinsic motivation from a self-determination theory perspective: Definitions, theory, practices, and future directions. Contemporary Educational Psychology, 61, 101860. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cedpsych.2020.101860

Schein, E. H., & Schein, P. (2021). Humble inquiry: The gentle art of asking instead of telling (2nd ed.). Berrett-Koehler Publishers.

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Disclaimer:

To learn more about Sarah Beth Herman, the author of all free training content you can read her bio here. These materials are intended to provide helpful information to dentists and dental team members. They are in no way a substitute for actual professional advice based on your unique facts and circumstances. This content is not intended or offered, nor should it be taken, as legal or other professional advice. You should always consult with your own professional advisors (e.g. attorney, accountant, or insurance carrier). To the extent, Dentistry Support ®has included links to any third-party website (s), Dentistry Support ® intends no endorsement of their content and implies no affiliation with the organizations that provide their content. Further, Dentistry Support ® makes no representations or warranties about the information provided on those sites. You can view our privacy policy and terms and conditions by clicking those pages in the footer of our website