Blue Mercury - Leadership

A little surprise goes a long way.

Earlier this month, at the Chamber of Commerce Women’s Conference, the first 30 people who bought tickets received an extra little treatie.... A Valley wine tasting experience with the winemakers.

We had no idea.

It was not splashed all over the marketing, and it was not used as a big incentive to convince people to buy quickly.

It was simply a surprise reward for the people who had already said yes!!!

Because there is something really thoughtful about rewarding the behaviour you want to see, rather than only trying to drive it.

So often we focus on the incentive...

- How do we get people to register?
- How do we get people to engage?
- How do we get people to act?

But... there is a beautiful quiet magic in noticing and appreciating the people who already have, those early adopters, the ones who back the idea before they have all the detail.

𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝘀𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗿𝗲𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗳?

Nothing says 'tiny house project' quite like standing on scaffolding and wondering if there is more structure outside the house than in it...

Our tiny house is progressing, but it is also currently surrounded by what can only be described as a hectic metal obstacle course, perched on a hill, with a view that is either beautiful or terrifying depending on how much you enjoy heights.

This project has been such a good reminder that simple ideas are not always simple to execute.

A tiny house sounds cute.

And then suddenly you are learning about access, scaffolding, timelines, trades, weather, tiny decisions that are not tiny at all...

Messy. Expensive. Occasionally ridiculous.

Still worth it.

Between flights in Tonga, I wrote a few pages of the book on a park bench.

Not in a perfect, manicured, 'look at me being a writer in paradise' kind of way. I just cracked my laptop open, trying to pull sentences out of my brain.

My husband Iain was full on asleep on the other park bench, fully committed to his own version of productive travel.

Two park benches, and two veeeeerrrrry different activities, but both of us exactly where we needed to be.

It made me laugh, and felt like a tiny reminder that the perfect spot does not always look the same for everyone....

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘄𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗱𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝘁?

Talk to strangers.

Not in a creepy way.

Not in a 'please tell me your entire life story while I am trapped beside you' way.

But in a be interested, be interesting, stay-open-to-the-possibility-that-humans-are-mostly-quite-wonderful-kind of way.

A couple of weeks ago, Iain and I got invited onto a charter flight in Tonga because we met someone who essentially decided we were fun enough to join them on their private flight.

Which to be perfectly honest, it's one of the better compliments I have ever received.

One of those unexpected, generous, absolutely ridiculous things that only happened, because of a bunch of conversations that could easily not have happened.

There is soooooo many opportunities that sit on the other side of being curious.

Just being present enough to ask a question, share a story, laugh at the weird bits, and see what happens.

𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻 𝘂𝗻𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗱𝗼𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂?

Nothing says 'let’s talk about emotional culture' quite like freezing on Zoom in the middle of facilitating a session about emotional culture.

Look at that hand action! The Passion, The Energy, The Footwork.... Classic Too-Much Kayleigh... Perfect timing, really.

There I was, working with a community group, trying to create a useful conversation about how people feel, what they experience, and what we unintentionally leave behind in the room.

And then my laptop decided to become a still life. But me, internally, not frozen at all.

But the group were awesome - They waited. They laughed. They went with it. They made the moment feel human, not awkward. Thanks team!!

Because emotional culture is not just what we write on the wall, or a charter, or values statement, or when everyone and everything is behaving beautifully.

It is what people experience when things go a bit wrong too...

𝗜 𝗴𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘀, 𝗜'𝗺 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆... 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗼 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗴𝗼 𝘁𝗼 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗻?

The book.

There is a special kind of panic that happens when you are setting yourself up for a workshop, feeling reasonably professional, reasonably prepared, reasonably like the person who is about to hold space for other humans, and then you realise the thing you have accidentally projected onto the giant screen is not the beautiful, polished workshop deck, but the draft of your own book.

The book of challenges, grief, stubbornness, questionable life choices, small wins, big lessons, and all the bits of myself I am slowly trying to wrangle into sentences that make sense....

For a brief moment, my private writing world was sitting there in full screen...

Just thought it was a reminder that the things we are building quietly in the background have a funny way of asking to be seen sometimes!!!

I was talking with a group the other day about values, and how we take them from words on a page into the way we actually show up.

Because it’s easy to say we value courage, trust, growth, kindness, legacy.

It’s much harder to ask... but realistically, how would someone know?

- What would they see?
- What would they hear?

One of my values is LEGACY.

Not in a grand, build-a-statue-in-my-honour kind of way. More in the quiet, practical sense of wanting the work I do to leave something useful behind.

That the work I do builds a little more confidence, a little more language, perhaps some more trust.

Working with The Rees Hotel over the last three years has been such a beautiful reminder of that.

I’ve watched their team grow through their teamwork development, and now move into the leadership phase of their journey.

I’ve seen people find their voice, think more intentionally about how they work together and I'm starting to see that confidence build, not through one big shiny moment, but through steady conversations, reflection, practice, and commitment.

And honestly, it’s a real joy.

It’s why I do what I do.
(And why my mum did what she did too...)

Because legacy isn’t always something we leave at the end.
Sometimes it’s something we build in the room, one conversation at a time.