Years ago, I invited my sensei, Tom, to walk the floor with me. We were visiting the frontline teams together, observing the system and looking for nuggets of insight. I had always appreciated Tom’s thoughtful presence. He didn’t rush. He didn’t dominate the room. He observed, listened, and when he spoke, it was often with a depth that left a lasting impression.
On this particular walk, we approached one of the continuous improvement boards used by frontline teams. These boards were a part of our daily visual management, a central element of our improvement system. They were tools for organizing experiments, documenting learning, and helping teams practice the scientific method. The board we stopped at was labeled “Quick and Easy.” It was meant to be a space for manageable ideas, the kind that should be resolved quickly. Simple problems. Fast feedback loops. It was a part of helping our people build confidence in problem-solving and learn through doing.
Tom stood in silence, examining the board. Without saying a word, he reached out and pulled one of the improvement cards off the board. He dropped it on the floor. I watched, a bit puzzled. Then he pulled another, and another. They fluttered to the ground. Before I could react, more cards started falling off on their own. The board wasn’t holding them properly. I instinctively leaned down to pick them up.
"Tom," I asked, "what is going on? Are you OK?"
He looked at me calmly and asked, "How do you feel, Didier?"
"Honestly? Not very well," I admitted.
He nodded. "Good. You must feel just like your team members. The board says 'Quick and Easy,' and those cards have been up there for more than two months."
That moment changed me. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t harsh. But it cut deep in a quiet, personal way. Tom had just created a gentle emotional experience that spoke more powerfully than any lecture or PowerPoint could have.
Gentle Emotional Experiences Build Self-Awareness
Tom could have said, “Your team isn’t following through.” He could have given me a list of missed expectations. He could have criticized the board or the process. But instead, he helped me feel what my team might have been feeling.
The board was supposed to represent a space for empowerment and progress. But neglected cards communicated something else: broken commitments. Disengagement. Frustration. By showing me what it felt like, Tom built a bridge between my leadership and their experience.
And that’s what stuck. I didn’t walk away from that moment thinking, “Tom caught me.” I walked away thinking, “This is what I’m unintentionally doing to others. I need to do better.”
That’s the power of gentle emotional experiences in leadership. They don’t shame or blame. They reveal.
What Makes an Experience Gentle Yet Powerful?
Let’s be clear: "gentle" does not mean soft or ineffective. It doesn’t mean avoiding hard truths. Some of the most important truths in my career have been delivered gently, but they hit with lasting weight.
A gentle emotional experience has a few key ingredients:
It is rooted in respect. There is no superiority, just a desire to help someone see what they might be missing.
It allows for self-discovery. The person receiving the insight comes to the realization themselves, which makes it stick.
It connects emotionally. The message reaches the heart, not just the head.
It avoids judgment. The goal is to grow, not to punish.
Tom didn’t shame me. He invited me to see, to feel, and to reflect. And in doing so, he taught me more in a single moment than a week’s worth of training could have.
Why It Matters in Continuous Improvement
We spend a lot of time in Lean and operational excellence talking about systems. Processes. Flow. Visual management. Leader standard work. All of these are essential. But none of them work unless people are engaged, and people engage when they feel respected, seen, and trusted.
Frontline improvement systems, like idea boards, are about building capability. They are not just tracking mechanisms. They’re places where people practice the scientific method. They see the results of their own thinking. When these systems fall into disrepair, when cards sit untouched for weeks or months, it sends a message, whether we intend it or not.
The message might be:
“No one is really watching.”
“Your effort doesn’t matter.”
“We don’t follow through.”
And that is discouraging. When leaders don’t uphold the process, it erodes psychological safety and motivation. But when we notice the drift and respond with care, we build trust instead of eroding it.
Gentle emotional experiences can be a wake-up call, without alarm bells.
Becoming a Better Leader
That moment with Tom made me want to be better. Not because I was afraid of being called out, but because I had seen the unintended consequences of my actions. I had broken a quiet promise to my team. I had created a system that looked good on the surface but was not being sustained. And they noticed.
After that day, I made a few important shifts in my leadership:
I started treating small commitments with the same care as big ones.
I made time for follow-up, even when it wasn’t convenient.
I asked more often, “What does this feel like to the team?”
I learned to observe with empathy, not just with a checklist.
Leadership is a practice. It’s not about perfection. It’s about learning in the moment, being open to feedback, and staying grounded in purpose. That experience helped me recommit to those values.
Becoming a Better Coach
Years later, I found myself coaching others. I thought back often to Tom’s method. He didn’t preach. He created an experience. So, I tried to do the same.
When a leader I was coaching failed to follow through on standard work, I didn’t jump to critique. I asked them to revisit the gemba, walk through the process, and listen with fresh ears. I asked, “What would it feel like to be on the receiving end of this system?” And more often than not, they made their own discoveries.
Sometimes, I recreated Tom’s technique. I once asked a leader to try and pull an old improvement card off their board. It tore at the edges. It stuck to the tape. It looked abandoned. And the leader looked at me and said, “This doesn’t feel good.” I just nodded. They got it.
A coach’s role is not to have all the answers. It’s to guide people toward reflection and action. When we invite people into an emotional experience, not a guilt trip, but a moment of connection, they can see themselves and their systems more clearly. And that clarity leads to ownership, which leads to change.
Gentle Emotional Experiences and Respect for People
One of the foundational principles of Lean is respect for people. That phrase often gets translated into polite behavior, but it runs much deeper than that. Respect for people means believing in their potential. It means holding them capable. It means offering challenge, feedback, and support in ways that honor their dignity.
Gentle emotional experiences are acts of deep respect. They say:
“I believe you can grow.”
“I trust you with this insight.”
“I care enough to tell you the truth, kindly.”
In a world that often rewards speed, metrics, and quick wins, slowing down to create these moments is rare. But it is in these moments that true transformation begins.
Final Thoughts: Leading with Heart and Discipline
The longer I lead, the more I realize that leadership is not about control. It is about clarity, connection, and consistency. Systems matter. Results matter. But people matter most. And how we engage them, how we invite them into the work, shapes everything.
Gentle emotional experiences are not tools to manipulate. They are expressions of care. They are mirrors that help people see themselves more fully. And they have the power to change not just behavior, but belief.
Tom gave me that gift on a random walk, in front of a forgotten board. I never forgot it. And I hope, in my way, to pass that gift on.
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