I learned a long time ago not to ignore first impressions or my instincts. Not because instincts should run the show, but because they're usually the first signal that something matters. And if something feels off, it's worth paying attention to. Not to panic. Not to snap-judge. Just to listen.
The job I wasn't ready for (yet)
When I was about 28, I became a director at a large, matrixed company and stepped into a role that was bigger than the experience I had at the time. My lead took a chance on me, saw potential, and let me step into it anyway.
This job tested me in every capacity.
It's probably important for you to know that I'm a very sensitive, deep-feeling person. And back then? I took everything personally. I would definitely call myself naive. If I made a mistake, I thought it meant something about me — my flaws, my worth, my "not-enoughness", instead of what a mistake actually is: normal, inevitable, and often useful.
So I doubted myself constantly. I felt afraid of my own shadow.
On my first day, when I was brought into the marketing bullpen, no one said hello. I got side glances and glares because everyone was wary of who I was and what I would do. (I later earned the nickname "grim reaper." Yikes.) It felt like I was back in high school!
I cried during the day and after work. I really did not know what the fuck I was doing: how to run a good pipe council, ask the right questions and not sound like an idiot, how to lead my team, how to launch complex, multi-stage campaigns for tons of products, and most importantly, how to know that what we were doing was even driving impact. Everything was complicated and I felt like a total fraud.
And then I started getting to know my first-team, or more specifically, the people I was managing directly.
First impressions weren't great.
Before this, I'd only managed 3 people at a startup and they were highly driven, resilient people who were invested in each other and the company. This new role was different. I was inheriting a team. The marketing org had recently gotten a new leader. There was already a lot of change… and then I showed up, which was basically "change change everywhere."
At the time, I also didn't fully appreciate what the marketing team was going through, and what that would mean in the weeks ahead. But I did start to feel something early: the disconnect. The tension. The misalignment. The quiet "this is going to be harder than it looks."
The mandate
My boss was direct with me: "You have to clean your team up."
And at the time, that mandate sounded brutal. Like failure. Like I was being asked to be the villain.
But what I didn't understand yet is that this wasn't just about removing problems. It was about making space to rebuild. It was about giving the rest of the team a real shot at doing great work again, without constantly compensating for misalignment, drama, or low standards.
The bottom line was this: my team was misaligned to the broader marketing team's goals, and worse, to the country team's goals. At worst there was inappropriate behaviour and conduct. At best, complacency and poor quality work.
And I didn't have the first clue how to "performance manage." I didn't even really know what that meant.
Enter Diana (my HRBP)
But I did get connected with my first HR business partner (HRBP). I'm going to call her Diana, because Wonder Woman is named Diana, and this woman was fucking awesome.
She became one of my first teachers in the business world. I learned from her how to be empathetic, patient, helpful and supportive. I learned I could ask "stupid" questions. I learned I could cry in front of someone at work and the world wouldn't implode.
Spoiler alert: I was tasked with managing out most of my team. At first, I fought it. I truly believed I could coach everyone back in. That was… optimistic. And also a little bit of me trying to prove I was a "good leader" by saving the situation.
That belief died quickly. Because eventually someone called me a junior bitch and shouted at me in a private one-to-one. So, yeah. Diana gave me the tools for what came next.
I didn't know it then, but the way you handle this part (early, clearly, and with receipts) sets the tone for everything that comes after. Not just for the person you're addressing, but for the whole team. Because leadership isn't just what you tolerate. It's what you reinforce.
The playbook
Here's what I learned:
1) Document everything.
If you're starting to get a whiff that someone isn't trustworthy, isn't coachable, or is playing games, start documenting. Write down what was said, what you agreed on, and what happens next. Follow up in Slack or email so it's crystal clear what the conversation was and what actions are expected.
This isn't about "building a case" because you're out to get someone. It's about not gaslighting yourself later. Because when things get messy, your brain will try to bargain with reality:
- "Maybe it wasn't that bad."
- "Maybe I misunderstood."
- "Maybe I'm being too sensitive."
Documentation keeps you (and them) honest.
2) Align on what they think their job is, then document that, too.
Review the job description together until you're both crystal clear on expectations. If expectations are vague or overlapping, it's almost impossible to move forward. Everyone ends up resentful and confused and nothing improves because nobody can agree on what "good" looks like.
Also, there's a balance here. If someone needs microscopic daily-task detail to function, that can be a signal that the role isn't the right fit. Clarity is one thing. Hand-holding as a baseline requirement is another.
3) Role play and practice.
When I had to have my first truly tough conversations — direct feedback on conduct, showing up, professionalism, all of it — I practiced with Diana and my trusted peer.
I didn't read a script (because real life doesn't allow that), but I'd jot down trigger words to keep myself anchored. I can get tripped up by people's expressions. If I can't read someone well, I start second-guessing myself in real-time. Practice made me steadier.
4) Use AI to scenario plan.
I didn't have ChatGPT ten years ago, but I've used it recently to think through tough conversations. I'll give it context: the relationship, how the person interacts, examples of messages, patterns I'm seeing, and what I'm worried will happen in the conversation. I ask it for feedback on my tone: am I being too direct? Not direct enough?
For example: I managed someone who would evade direct feedback and play devil's advocate about everything. I used AI to help me develop phrases to keep the conversation on track and avoid getting pulled into pointless debate loops.
(And yes, I'll keep a one-page cheat sheet on my screen if I need it. No shame.)
5) Trust your instincts, but don't outsource your decisions to them.
I didn't do this enough early in my career. I once read somewhere that you should not trust your instincts, and I took that as gospel. Boy was I wrong.
I'm not saying to act first, think last, or make snap decisions. I'm saying: listen to the signal. Figure out what it's trying to tell you because the body doesn't lie.
Then do your due diligence: document, align expectations, practice, get support.
Build a strong relationship with your HRBP, your lead, and a colleague if you can. If you don't have that, find a mentor inside or outside the company. And if that's not possible right now, use the tools you do have (yes, including AI).
Instinct vs anxiety
Because they can feel similar, and this is where I've seen people get tripped up, and it's why "trust your gut" is both helpful and incomplete.
Anxiety usually feels like:
- urgent, loud, spiraling
- "What if I'm wrong?"
- "What if they hate me?"
- "What if this proves I'm not cut out for this?"
It's a forecast of shame. And I am very familiar with my "shame monster." (Therapy is great for this.)
Instinct is usually quieter and more consistent:
- it repeats itself over time
- it's specific ("this isn't adding up," "this feels manipulative," "the behaviour doesn't match the story")
- it doesn't always tell you what to do, it tells you where to look
My personal filter is simple: If it's instinct, it holds up under daylight. Meaning, once you write things down, ask direct questions, clarify expectations, and get outside perspective… the signal gets cleaner, not noisier. It's not tangled up with your own hang-ups and insecurities.
The rebuild (and why it mattered)
In the end, I performance managed one person with highly problematic behaviour, and the other complacent, low performer resigned on their own. I learned I was capable. I learned I wasn't a bitch. I was someone new to leadership at a large, complex company, in a large team with history and baggage, and I was learning in real-time.
And then something important happened: we started to rebuild.
Once we made the hard calls, the team had oxygen again. I started to prove myself. Not through intensity or trying to be liked, but through consistency: giving my team clear expectations, us delivering better follow-through, and providing alignment to our cross-functional teammates that didn't wobble every time things got uncomfortable.
We started to see better partnership with sales, and within marketing. Trust had been eroded in different pockets, and rebuilding it wasn't some big dramatic moment. It was inch by inch. Conversation by conversation. Decision by decision. We shipped better work. We hired a few more folks. And slowly, the culture shifted.
That's why I care so much about listening to your instincts. Not letting them make decisions for you, but letting them alert you. Because if something seems wrong, it usually is.
Please don't gaslight yourself. Listen. Do your due diligence. Get support. And then do the hard thing.
