Did You Honk at Me?

I was driving recently, waiting to turn right on a green light. A pedestrian on the corner was doing that thing pedestrians sometimes do, the half-step forward, half-step back, am I crossing or am I not dance that leaves drivers genuinely unsure what's about to happen. So I waited. A beat. Maybe two.

And then the car behind me honked.

The first thing I felt was shame.

Not road rage. Not irritation. Shame. That immediate, automatic flush of did I do something wrong? Am I the problem here? It arrived before I had even finished processing what happened.

If you've ever felt that, the split-second belief that a honk, a look, or a sigh in your direction means you've failed somehow, you're not alone. That shame response is fast. It doesn't wait for evidence.

But I've done enough work on my own self-awareness that I was able to move through it quickly. And what showed up next?

Anger.

Real, fully-formed frustration with this person behind me who, by my calculation, had waited approximately no time at all before deciding to express their impatience at my expense. I had been waiting for a pedestrian. That is the correct thing to do. And yet here I was, being honked at like I had fallen asleep at the wheel.

I had thoughts about this driver. Several of them. None particularly charitable.

And then I heard myself.

The inner critic I work hard to manage, the one I teach others to notice in themselves, was running at full volume. I was judging this stranger with complete confidence and zero information. I had decided who he was, what his character said about him, and what he deserved from the universe, all before I had even made my right turn.

That caught my attention.

Because the very thing I talk about with leaders and teams, the automatic story we construct about others, and how quickly it can harden into certainty, was happening in real time. In my own car. To me.

So I did the thing.

I changed my story.

• Maybe he had someone he loved in the hospital.

• Maybe he was already late to pick up his child from school.

• Maybe… he really needed to find a bathroom... quickly! 🙂

  
  

I don't know which one was true. Maybe none of them. But the moment I offered even the possibility of a different explanation, something shifted. The tension in my shoulders loosened. The narrative in my head softened. I stopped spending energy on a stranger I would never see again.

He may have still been rude. Changing my story doesn't excuse his behavior. 

But it freed me from carrying it.

This Applies Directly to Leadership

Leaders construct stories about people constantly. About the team member who didn't respond to an email. About the colleague who seemed checked out in the meeting. About the employee whose tone felt off. About the person who pushed back on a decision.

And often, the story we construct is the one that feels most available, not the one that's most accurate.

They don't respect me.They're not committed.They're trying to undermine this.

These stories feel true. They arrive quickly and with confidence. And when we lead from them without pausing to question them, we make decisions, about people, about conversations, about consequences, that are built on a foundation we never actually verified.

Self-aware leadership requires the ongoing discipline of asking: Is this the only possible explanation? Or is it just the first one?

What It Looks Like to Change the Story

This isn't about being naively optimistic or dismissing real patterns of behavior. It's about creating a small but important pause between what happened and what I decided it means.

A few practices that help:

1. Notice the story before you act on it 

When a reaction rises: frustration, judgment, assumption, get curious about the narrative underneath it. What story did you just tell yourself? Is it fact, or is it interpretation?

2. Ask what else might be true 

Not to excuse the behavior, but to widen the lens. What might be happening for this person that you don't have visibility into? Stress, fear, a hard season, a bad morning, these things don't justify poor behavior, but they often explain it.

3. Separate the behavior from the person

You can address what someone did without deciding who they are. One is specific and actionable. The other leads to judgment that's hard to walk back.

4. Hold the story loosely until you have more information 

The most powerful thing a leader can often do before a hard conversation is simply ask. "I noticed X. Help me understand what was going on for you." You may be surprised by what you didn't know.

Reflection Questions

• What automatic stories do I tend to construct about others, and how quickly do I treat them as facts?

• When someone's behavior frustrates me, do I get curious, or do I get certain?

• Have I ever addressed a situation, only to learn the full story later and wish I'd waited?

• What would it look like to lead from curiosity before I lead from conclusion?

Changing your story is not a one-time achievement. It's an ongoing practice. Some days it happens quickly. Some days the inner critic wins a few rounds first.

But every time you choose curiosity over certainty, even in the small moments, even in the car, even about a stranger with a heavy hand on a horn, you're building the muscle that makes you a better leader.

You matter. Especially when you pause long enough to ask what else might be true.

If you’re navigating change, uncertainty, or cultural shifts and want support strengthening communication, culture, or trauma-responsive approaches, you don’t have to do it alone.  

This is the work we partner with leaders and teams on every day through keynotes, professional development and workshop sessions, and coaching. If it feels helpful, we're always open to a conversation.