Busy or Productive?

Busy or Productive?

Someone asked me the other day how my week was going, and before I could even think about it, the classic answer popped out: "Busy!" It’s an answer most of us have on autopilot. It rolls off the tongue so easily because, let’s face it, our days are full. But this time, I caught myself. It made me pause and think about the kind of energy I want to invite into my life and share with others.

There is a beautiful difference between a day that is simply full of activity and a day that is full of purpose. Somewhere along the way, we’ve been conditioned to wear "busy" as a badge of honour, as if rushing around is the ultimate proof that we are valuable and working hard.

But I’ve realised that the real magic happens when we shift our focus from being busy to being truly productive.

"Success isn't measured by the hours we log or the number of emails we send, but by the meaningful outcomes we create."

I love Digby Scott’s concept of Unhurried Productivity. It’s the wonderful sweet spot where we trade constant firefighting for clear, deliberate focus. It's about protecting our time for the things that actually count, allowing us to dive deep into our work and then, just as importantly, switch off and enjoy proper, guilt-free rest.

So, I’ve been experimenting with a new habit.

Now, when someone asks how I am, I lead with, "I’m doing really well!" And if they ask if things have been hectic, I love to share that I’ve been productive.

Admittedly, it felt a little different saying it out loud at first! But that tiny shift has been incredibly rewarding. It gives me a mindful half-second to check in with myself and celebrate what I've actually achieved.

Most days are a beautiful mix of both, but focusing on productivity has changed the game. I’m realising that looking permanently rushed isn't the goal. Instead, feeling accomplished, present, and intentional is what matters. I’d much rather be known for making a real impact than just moving fast.

The Conversation

Next time someone checks in on you, try focusing on your achievements rather than your task list and see how it feels!

What did your week look like? Did you find that sweet spot of joyful productivity, or are you still practising the pivot? I’d love to hear how you’re making space for what matters!

Go with unhurried productivity this week
Mary-Anne 😊

The Ute, The Party, and The Art of Quiet Resistance

The Ute, The Party, and The Art of Quiet Resistance

I was about seventeen when I “borrowed” my parents' ute to go to a party they'd said no to.

I want to be clear. I didn't have permission. What I had was a plan.

I waited until the house was quiet. Roll-started it down the hill so nobody would hear the engine. Made it to the party. Made it back in the early hours. Quietly drove it back up the hill. Parked it exactly where it had been.

And the next morning, over breakfast, asked casually how everyone had slept that night.

I was fairly certain I'd gotten away with it. Looking back now, I'm fairly certain I hadn't. My parents knew. Nothing was ever officially said. And life carried on.

But here's what that seventeen year old didn't realise she was doing. She wasn't just going to a party. She was demonstrating one of the most human responses to a decision we don't agree with.

Finding a workaround.

I see it in teams all the time. Someone sits in a meeting and nods along. Yes, agreed, absolutely, let's do that. And then quietly, almost imperceptibly, doesn't do it. Or does a version of it. Or does it once and then stops. Not with drama. Not with confrontation. Just with a kind of steady, unspoken resistance.

It's not quite quitting. It's not outright refusal. It's something quieter than that. A slow drift away from the kaupapa while technically still showing up.

And the leader is left with the same feeling my parents probably had. Knowing something is off. Not quite sure how to name it without making it a bigger deal than it needs to be.

So how do you navigate it?

First, get curious before you get frustrated. Because passive resistance is almost always information. It's telling you something about the agreement, the decision, or the relationship. Maybe the person never really agreed in the first place and just said yes to end the conversation. Maybe they agreed but then hit a barrier nobody knew about. Maybe they have a genuine concern that was never properly heard.

The behaviour on the surface is the same. The reason underneath varies enormously. And the conversation you need to have is different depending on which one it is.

Second, name what you're seeing without making it an accusation. Something like, I've noticed we agreed on this but it doesn't seem to be happening. Help me understand what's getting in the way. That's not a confrontation. It's an opening. It gives the person somewhere to go other than defensive.

Third, revisit the original agreement. Because sometimes passive resistance is a signal that the agreement itself wasn't solid. That the yes was given under pressure, or without enough information, or without the person feeling genuinely heard. Going back to the agreement and rebuilding it properly is not weakness. It's leadership.

And if you've done all of that and the resistance continues? Then you're into accountability territory. And that's a different conversation. But you can only get there honestly if you've done the work first.

As for my parents. They never said a word. But I have a feeling the ute mysteriously needed to go in for a service the following weekend.

The Conversation

Where in your team right now is someone doing the equivalent of roll-starting the ute down the hill?

And have you had the conversation that actually needs to happen?

Get curious this week
Mary-Anne :)

The Yes That Changed Everything

I said yes before I'd thought it through.

A colleague, a friend, asked me to MC the Waikato Secondary Schools event. And before the sensible part of my brain could catch up, I'd already agreed.

Then the panic set in.

What had I done? I was the person who sat quietly in staff meetings. The one who chose her words carefully and said as little as possible. Standing up in front of a room full of people and holding the whole thing together was not something I did. It wasn't who I was.

Except apparently I'd just said I would.

I don't think she knew how terrified I was. She just asked. Straightforwardly, like it was obvious. Like she could already see me doing it. And something in that - the way she asked without hesitation, without wondering if I could handle it - made me say yes before I could talk myself out of it.

So I did it. Terrified. Probably not perfectly. But I did it.

And something shifted. Not overnight. Not dramatically. But that yes opened a door I didn't know was there. It started me on a path of public speaking that I couldn't have predicted and wouldn't have chosen on my own. Not then.

Here's what I've been thinking about since. She didn't give me confidence. She couldn't. Confidence isn't something someone else can hand you. But she gave me something just as important. She gave me an opportunity I wouldn't have given myself. And she believed I could do it before I did.

That's a kind of leadership that doesn't get talked about enough.

Because we spend a lot of time thinking about the big calls. The strategy. The decisions. The hard conversations. And they matter. But sometimes the most significant thing a leader does is notice something in someone that they can't yet see in themselves. And then ask. Simply. Without making a big deal of it. Just — I think you could do this. Will you?

Most people are waiting for permission they'd never give themselves.

And you might be the person who gives it.

Look around your team right now. Who are you not asking? Who's sitting quietly, saying little, choosing their words carefully - and capable of so much more than they're showing you?

Ask them. Don't overthink it. Just ask.

Because you might not know how terrified they are. And that's ok. Neither did she.

The Conversation

Who in your world needs someone to believe in them before they believe in themselves?

And what's stopping you from being that person for them?

Arohanui
Mary-Anne 😊

The Voice Inside Your Head

The Voice Inside Your Head

I drove home from a workshop once and didn't hear a single song on the radio.

Two hours. And my brain was too busy replaying every moment that hadn't landed the way I wanted. The bit that felt clunky. The question I fumbled. The energy in the room at that one point that I couldn't quite read. By the time I got home I'd practically talked myself into never delivering a workshop again.

Then I didn't sleep. Because apparently two hours of self-critique wasn't enough.

The feedback came back a few days later. It was great. Genuinely good feedback. People had valued it. Things had landed. And do you know what my inner critic did with that information?

Found a way to hold on anyway. Yes but you could have done that bit better. Yes but imagine how good it could have been.

That voice. We all have one. And for a lot of us, it's the loudest one in the room.

It doesn't show up when things go wrong. It shows up when we've done something that matters to us. When we've put ourselves out there. When we've tried. That's when it gets busy. Picking apart the edges. Replaying the moments. Measuring the gap between what happened and what we'd imagined.

And here's what I've come to understand about that voice. It's not trying to destroy you. It's trying to protect you. It's the part of you that cares deeply about doing good work. About showing up well. About mattering.

But left unchecked, it doesn't make you better. It just makes you smaller. Too scared to try again. Too focused on the gap to see what you actually did.

The work isn't silencing it. You won't. I haven't. The work is learning not to hand it the microphone.

Because that voice will always find something. Always. If you let it run the show it will talk you out of the workshop, the conversation, the decision, the room. And the world will lose something it actually needed.

The feedback was great. And I could probably do better next time. Both things are true. The difference is which one I choose to lead with.

The Conversation

Where is your inner critic running the show right now? And what would it look like to hear it, acknowledge it, and then put it back in its place?

Go with confidence this week
Mary-Anne :)

The Hunger Games Effect

There's a pattern I keep seeing in organisations right now. And it worries me.

Two leaders pulling in different directions. Not because they don't care. Not because they're not capable. But because the external message about what was expected wasn't clear enough. And in that gap, the confusion found somewhere to land.

Not on the system that created it. On each other.

I see this play out in a lot of contexts. And it almost never starts with the people. It starts with the pressure.

External change that isn't well communicated. Shifting expectations that leave people guessing. Competing demands that force impossible prioritisation. Comparison that pits teams against each other. Blame that rolls downhill and lands on the people closest to the work.

And when that pressure arrives without clarity, without context, without enough support to make sense of it, teams do what humans do under stress. They look for certainty where they can find it. They protect their patch. They lead from their own interpretation because nobody has given them a shared one.

And suddenly people who were previously good together are working at cross purposes. Not because they don't care. Because they're trying to navigate something genuinely unclear, and doing it without a shared map.

That's the hunger games effect. When external pressure creates internal competition. When the real disruption is coming from outside but it's playing out inside. When the culture you worked hard to build starts fracturing not from the inside out, but from the outside in.

And the tragedy of it is this. The team often doesn't realise what's happening until the damage is already done. Until the trust has eroded. Until the shortness and the distance and the quiet pulling apart have become the new normal.

So what does it take to stop it?

It takes someone being willing to name it. To stand in front of the team and say, the disruption we're feeling isn't us. It's coming from outside. And we're not going to let it take our culture with it.

That's a leadership act. A quiet, deliberate, powerful one.

It means getting clear internally even when the external message is muddy. Agreeing on what you know, what you don't know, and how you'll move forward together until the clarity arrives. Not waiting for permission to be a coherent team.

It means protecting the relationships. Especially when the pressure is highest. Because the relationship between colleagues, between leaders, between a team is the thing that holds everything else together. And once it fractures under pressure it takes far longer to repair than it did to build.

And it means resisting the pull to compare, to blame, to turn inward in ways that cost the culture. Because other organisations are not your competition. Other teams are not your benchmark. The only question worth asking is, are we doing right by the people in front of us and the people beside us?

External pressure is real. The demands are real. The confusion is real. But so is the culture you've built. And it's worth more than any external expectation that wasn't communicated clearly enough to be worth fracturing over.

Don't let the outside in.

The Conversation

Is this pattern showing up in your team right now? How are you managing it? I'd love to hear.

Go with Care this week
Mary-Anne

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