The Gap Between Your Intentions and Your Impact

You meant to inspire. You meant to challenge. You meant to support. But what did they actually experience?

You walked out of that meeting feeling good. You challenged your team. You pushed them to think bigger. You refused to accept mediocrity. You held the standard high because you believe in their potential.

They walked out of that meeting feeling deflated.

You meant to be supportive when you offered to “fix” their problem. You were trying to help. You were demonstrating that you care. You were using your experience to make their job easier.

They heard, “You’re not capable of solving this yourself.”

You thought you were being collaborative when you asked all those probing questions about their proposal. You were trying to help them think more strategically. You were pushing them to consider angles they might have missed.

They felt interrogated. Doubted. Like nothing they do is ever good enough.

This is the gap. The gap between what you intended and what they experienced. The gap between the leader you think you are and the leader they actually have. The gap between your good intentions and your actual impact.

And here’s the hardest truth in leadership: Your intentions don’t matter. Only your impact does.

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💭 This Weekend’s Reflection

I learned this the hard way twenty years ago. I had a team member, Jennifer, brilliant operations manager, incredible work ethic, always delivered. I gave her what I thought was developmental feedback after a big project. I was trying to help her see how she could be even better. I genuinely wanted her to grow.

Two weeks later, she came to my office in tears. “I feel like no matter what I do, it’s never enough for you.” I was stunned. That wasn’t my intention at all. My intention was to develop her. But my impact was to break her confidence.

That’s when I learned: The story I tell myself about why I do what I do doesn’t matter. What matters is what the other person experiences. And the gap between those two things is where most leadership failures happen.

This weekend, I want you to examine that gap. Not to beat yourself up. Not to doubt your intentions. But to get brutally honest about whether the impact you’re having matches the leader you think you are.

What leadership behavior do you think demonstrates care, that your team might experience as control?

Think about how you show up when you care about someone’s success. Maybe you check in frequently. Maybe you offer to help solve their problems. Maybe you give detailed feedback on their work. Maybe you jump in when you see them struggling.

Your intention is care. You’re invested in their success. You want them to do well. You’re using your experience and expertise to support them.

But ask yourself honestly: What might they be experiencing? When you check in frequently, do they feel supported, or monitored? When you offer to solve their problems, do they feel helped, or infantilized? When you give detailed feedback, do they feel developed, or micromanaged? When you jump in during struggle, do they feel supported, or prevented from learning?

I thought I was being supportive when I closely reviewed every major decision my regional managers made. I told myself I was protecting them from mistakes. I told myself I was using my twenty-five years of experience to help them succeed. That was my intention. One hundred percent genuine.

But one of my best managers finally told me, “When you review everything I do before I do it, the message I get is that you don’t trust me. I feel like I’m on probation, not in a leadership role.” That landed like a punch to the gut. Because my intention was to support her. But my impact was to undermine her.

The gap between care and control is often just about who gets to make the decision. Care says, “I’m here if you need me.” Control says, “I need to be involved.” Both can look identical from the outside. But the experience on the receiving end is completely different.

What behavior are you doing that you think shows you care, that might actually be communicating that you don’t trust them to handle it themselves?

When you think you’re challenging people, are you actually just making them feel inadequate?

High performers love this one. We tell ourselves we’re pushing people to be better. We’re holding high standards. We’re refusing to accept mediocrity. We’re challenging them because we believe in their potential.

And that might be completely true. Your intention might be pure. You genuinely might see more in them than they see in themselves, and you’re trying to call it forth.

But here’s the question: Are they experiencing challenge, or are they experiencing criticism? Because the difference isn’t in your intention. It’s in how you’re delivering it.

Challenge says, “I see what you’re capable of, and I believe you can go further.” Criticism says, “What you did wasn’t good enough.” Same high standard. Same refusal to accept mediocrity. But completely different impact.

Challenge is future-focused. It’s about possibility. It’s about what could be. Criticism is past-focused. It’s about what wasn’t. It’s about what fell short. And here’s what makes this so tricky: You can say almost identical words, but if the tone is disappointment instead of belief, they hear criticism even when you meant challenge.

I watched a leader do this in a team meeting last month. Project didn’t hit the target. The leader said, “We can do better than this.” Intention? To rally the team. To refuse to accept the result. To challenge them to raise their game. Impact? Three people heard, “You failed, and I’m disappointed in you.”

The difference is in the next sentence. Challenge adds, “Here’s what I see in you that makes me believe we can hit this next time.” Criticism stops at the disappointment. One creates energy. One creates shame. Both come from the same high standard.

When you think you’re challenging people, what are they actually hearing? Are they walking away energized to do better, or deflated because they weren’t good enough?

Are you being direct, or are you being harsh, and do you know the difference?

Leaders love to pride themselves on being direct. “I tell it like it is.” “I don’t sugarcoat things.” “People always know where they stand with me.” And we wear it like a badge of honor because it feels authentic. It feels honest. It feels like integrity.

But direct and harsh aren’t the same thing. And the difference isn’t in what you say, it’s in whether you’re considering the impact on the person receiving it.

Direct tells the truth clearly and respectfully. Harsh tells the truth in a way that damages the relationship. Direct is clear. Harsh is cutting. Direct respects the person while addressing the issue. Harsh sacrifices the person for the sake of the issue.

I used to confuse these constantly. I prided myself on being direct. I thought I was doing people a favor by not sugarcoating feedback. I told myself, “If they can’t handle direct feedback, they’re not cut out for this role.” That was my story. That was my justification.

But then I noticed the pattern. People would shut down after conversations with me. They’d go silent in meetings. They’d stop bringing me problems. And I told myself they were being too sensitive. I told myself the issue was their inability to receive feedback.

I was wrong. The issue was my inability to deliver feedback in a way that maintained dignity. I was being harsh and calling it direct. I was prioritizing my discomfort with nuance over their experience of being on the receiving end.

Here’s the test: If someone walked away from that conversation you thought was “direct” feeling smaller, you weren’t being direct. You were being harsh. Direct feedback leaves people clear about what needs to change but intact in their sense of worth. Harsh feedback leaves people feeling diminished.

When you pride yourself on being direct, what are people actually experiencing? Are they experiencing clarity, or are they experiencing criticism that makes them feel small?

What do you do that you think builds the team, that might actually be excluding people who lead differently than you?

This one is subtle. And it’s about culture. Every leader has a style. You have preferences for how things get done, how decisions get made, how meetings run, how problems get solved. And you think you’re building team cohesion by creating a consistent culture around those preferences.

But ask yourself: Is your “consistent culture” actually just “people who lead the way I lead”? Are you building a team, or are you building a room full of people who mirror your style?

Maybe you value fast-paced, high-energy meetings. You think you’re creating urgency and momentum. But the thoughtful processor on your team feels like they never have space to contribute. You didn’t mean to exclude them. But that’s the impact.

Maybe you value quick decisions and course correction over analysis. You think you’re creating agility. But the analytical thinker on your team feels like their caution is seen as resistance. You didn’t mean to marginalize them. But that’s the impact.

Maybe you value extroverted collaboration, brainstorming sessions, whiteboard discussions, thinking out loud together. You think you’re fostering innovation. But the introvert on your team does their best thinking alone and feels perpetually behind in your culture. You didn’t mean to create an environment where they can’t thrive. But that’s the impact.

I built an entire leadership team of people who operated like me. Fast-paced. Decisive. Comfortable with ambiguity. Results-driven. I thought I was building a high-performing team. What I actually built was a team that alienated anyone who processed differently. We were fast. We were decisive. We were also missing critical thinking because everyone who thought differently than me had learned to stay quiet or left.

The question isn’t whether your style is right or wrong. The question is whether you’re aware of how your style might be excluding people whose different approach could actually make the team stronger.

What do you do in the name of “building the team” that might actually be building a team of people just like you, and excluding everyone else?

If you asked your team to describe your leadership impact in one word, would that word match the leader you think you are?

Final question. And this is the one that exposes everything.

Close your eyes. Think about how you want to show up as a leader. What word captures the impact you’re trying to have? Supportive? Challenging? Empowering? Inspiring? Developmental? Trustworthy? Honest?

Now imagine your team, each person, was asked to describe your leadership impact in one word. Not your intentions. Not what you say you value. But the actual impact you have on them day to day. Would they use the same word you just thought of?

This is the most confronting question because it forces you to step outside your own narrative and try to see yourself through their eyes. And most leaders don’t do this. Most leaders operate entirely from their own intentions and never interrogate whether those intentions are landing the way they think.

Marshall Goldsmith measures success by the extent to which other people’s perceptions of his clients change for the better. Not whether the leader thinks they’ve changed. Whether other people experience them differently. Because that’s what actually matters. Your self-assessment of your leadership is irrelevant if it doesn’t match how people actually experience you.

I thought I was empowering. That was the word I would have used. I gave people autonomy. I trusted them with big responsibilities. I got out of their way. Empowering. One hundred percent.

When I finally had the courage to actually ask my team, the word that came back most often was “intense.” Not empowering. Intense. Because yes, I gave autonomy, but I also set impossibly high standards, checked in constantly, and reacted with visible disappointment when things didn’t meet my expectations.

My intention was to empower. My impact was to create anxiety. And I didn’t know until I had the courage to actually ask.

If you asked your team, really asked them, in a way they felt safe being honest—what word would they use? And would that word match the leader you think you are?

And here’s the harder follow-up question: Are you brave enough to actually find out?

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What This Means for Monday

Monday morning, you’ll walk back into your team with all the same intentions you’ve always had. You’ll still want to support people. You’ll still want to challenge them to be better. You’ll still want to build a high-performing team. Your intentions won’t change.

But now you’ve been confronted with the possibility that your impact might not match your intentions. And you can’t unknow that.

You have two choices.

Choice one: Defend your intentions. Tell yourself that if people are experiencing you differently than you intend, that’s their problem. They’re too sensitive. They don’t understand. They’re not interpreting your actions correctly. This is the path most leaders take. It protects your ego. It preserves your self-image. And it guarantees that nothing changes.

Choice two: Get curious about the gap. Ask yourself, “What if my impact doesn’t match my intentions, not because they’re wrong, but because I’m not as aware as I think I am?” This path is harder. It requires humility. It requires being willing to hear that you might be causing harm even when you mean to help. It requires accepting that your intentions, no matter how pure, don’t matter if the impact is damaging.

This week, I want to challenge you to do something uncomfortable. Pick one person on your team. Someone you care about. Someone you’re genuinely trying to support. And ask them this question: “When I try to help you succeed, what do you actually experience?”

Don’t defend. Don’t explain. Don’t justify. Just listen. And be willing to learn that the gap between your intentions and your impact might be wider than you think.

Because the mark of a great leader isn’t having perfect intentions. It’s having the courage to examine whether those intentions are actually creating the impact you think they are.

And the willingness to change when they’re not.

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🔗 This Week’s Newsletters

Monday: The Leadership Table - The Intention-Impact Alignment Framework

Wednesday: Breaking Bread - The One Question Check-In

Friday: The Mindful Leader - The Gap Between Your Intentions and Your Impact

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