A Crisis of Time

For years I’ve noticed something slipping through the cracks of even the most well-meaning leaders—and honestly, through my own life too. It sounds like this:

“I’m not good at recognition.”

“I don’t know how to thank people.”

“I should probably reach out, but I haven’t.”

At first glance, it seems like a character flaw. A missing chip. Some of us are just not “wired” that way, right? But I’m starting to believe it’s not a personality thing at all. It’s a system issue. A time issue. A "way of life these days" issue.

When I hear leaders say, “I’m just not good at it,” what I suspect they mean is: I don’t have the capacity to slow down enough to see people clearly, much less thank them meaningfully.

And when I hear myself say it, I know that’s exactly what I mean.

Let’s not pretend we don’t know how to express gratitude or show love. We do. Even the most left-brained, spreadsheet-loving, efficiency-addicted among us knows how to say “thank you,” how to write a note, how to pause long enough to notice when someone’s done something really beautiful.

We know how to love.

We’ve just built lives that don’t leave room for it.

In our culture of urgency, connection becomes the first thing to go. Not because we don’t care—but because it doesn’t scream as loudly as the inbox. It doesn’t ping. It doesn’t make us feel accomplished or efficient. There's no checkbox for “offered kindness today.”

And if you're in leadership? Multiply that tenfold. You’re responsible for output, for performance, for vision, for growth. But rarely are you held accountable for grace. For presence. For offering warmth.

There’s no quarterly KPI for “made someone feel seen.”

What makes this even harder is the absurd paradox we’ve created: a work culture obsessed with purpose and values, yet designed to weed out anything that looks like softness. We glorify grit, resilience, and drive—but we don’t carve out time for praise, celebration, or human connection unless it’s some pre-scheduled task in our ERP.

We don’t say thank you because we don’t have time.We don’t write the note because we’re in back-to-back calls.We don’t follow up with the friend we meant to check on because the day disappeared into noise.

Living life at a manageable pace now requires a kind of rebellion. A refusal to participate in the speed of it all.

I think about this a lot when I’m lying in bed and the day rushes back at me. Not the meetings. Not the work. But the people I forgot to reach out to. The message I didn’t send. The birthday I missed. The teammate I forgot to thank. The coffee I never scheduled.

And I wonder if this is what the world has come to: a low-grade ache for more connection, brushed aside by the relentless urgency of everything else.

Maybe that’s the real crisis.

Not a lack of kindness.Not a lack of emotional intelligence.Not a lack of skill.

But a deep cultural poverty of time.

I don’t have a tidy ending here. I’m not going to tell you to block 10 minutes a day for gratitude journaling or start a Slack channel called #wins. You’ve probably tried those things.

I have too.

What I will say is this: If you’ve found yourself believing you’re “bad at recognition,” or not someone who’s “wired” for connection, I want you to consider that it’s not you. It’s the system. The culture. The pace.

Ask yourself: What would it take to reclaim some time for grace?

What would it take to live a life that makes room for a thank you?

And then protect it like it matters. Because it does.

Maybe more than anything else.

May you live and LeadWell,

~E