Save the Wobble for the Wedding

The Wobble happens fast at a wedding. Somewhere after scheduled toasts and flying bouquets but before the runny mascara and full dramatic revelations.

One minute, everyone is executing the plan. Your aunt practiced those dance moves on YouTube for weeks. Uncle Eddie is being helpful by quality-testing the open bar. The DJ is following the playlist exactly as requested, complete with enthusiastic crowd participation cues.

Then your aunt goes sideways in kitten heels. A bow tie flies across the dance floor. And the DJ is yelling, "EVERYBODY CLAP YOUR HANDS."

Clap. Clap. Clap your hands.

The bride? Still smiling that death-grip smile, adjusting her veil, convinced this chaos is just spirited celebration. The photographer is snapping great candid shots of Cousin Sarah's argument with the florist. The flower girl's tantrum is adding authentic emotion to the day.

Everyone is trying so hard. Everyone is doing their best. Everyone is so tired.

And that's exactly how leadership drift starts.

Not with sabotage. Not with malice. With good intentions executed poorly while the music keeps playing and everyone pretends the wobble is part of the dance.

The Leadership Wobble

I see this wobble every day. The manager who schedules more check-ins because they care about communication. The executive who surveys everyone because they believe in inclusive decision-making. The team lead who avoids the difficult conversation because they're trying to keep everyone comfortable.

All good intentions. All creating chaos.

The real wobble isn't about rhythm. It's what happens when your leadership starts drifting from what you said you stood for while you're convinced you're adapting brilliantly.

Anne Helen Peterson dissects our cultural obsessions in her Substack, Culture Study. Here's one I see: calling leadership drift "adaptive flexibility" ("""All the airquotes"""). A boat floating in the marina because the line broke is not adapting, nor is it flexible. It's drifting. An unmoored accident waiting to happen.

Drift is sneaky because it feels like leadership. We're being flexible. We're responding to feedback. We're meeting people where they are.

Meanwhile? Your stance is slipping. Your team is confused. Your results are going sideways, and everyone's pretending it's all part of the plan.

Here's how to spot it early. Before the photographer (or HR) catches you flinging a bow tie and dropping a kick turn in your bare feet.

Six Signs You're Unmoored and Drifting

Warning Sign #1: The Ghost Conversation

You know that thing at weddings where everyone's whispering about Uncle Jerry's drinking problem, but nobody will tell Uncle Jerry to switch to coffee?

That.

They'll pay the bartender to do it.

Last week I watched a team lead spend forty-five agonizing minutes discussing "communication improvements." Nodding heads. Thoughtful mmm-hmms. Very collaborative energy.

Meanwhile? Everyone in that room knew the real issue was Tim from Marketing. Tim who'd been steamrolling every project since March like he owned the place and everyone else was just visiting while quoting bro-casts and hacks in his so-alpha style.

The conversation they had: "Let's all be more collaborative."

The conversation they needed: "Tim, you're a bulldozer and it's killing morale."

But courage is hard. So instead, they scheduled another meeting about "optimizing team dynamics." For everyone.

I'm not kidding.

The ghost got louder. Tim kept bulldozing. The team kept wobbling while pretending they couldn't hear the rattling chains.

Spoiler alert: The one that needs it never hears it. They're the same ones that thought you offered a breath mint to be nice vs. whew, what DID YOU EAT?

Catch it: You're in minute 30 of a meeting and everyone's talking around something. Your gut knows what it is. That weird energy in the room? That's the ghost.

Fix it: Stop the meeting. Name the thing. "Are we talking about the bulldozing or are we going to dance around it for another hour?" Yes, it's uncomfortable. Do it anyway.

Warning Sign #2: The Trust Arsonist

You're tolerating competence and calling it culture. Your top performer is lighting trust on fire every week, but hey... metrics. Just cover your eyes when you walk past the values posters.

Picture your wedding photographer. Brilliant shots. Eye for detail. Also treats the wedding party like they're livestock and makes the bridesmaids cry.

You keep them because the photos will be gorgeous. The bride's happiness? Collateral damage.

I see this everywhere. The sales guy who hits numbers but leaves scorched earth relationships behind him like he's on a military march to dominate! The developer who ships code faster than anyone but never documents a damn thing, leaving the team to play archaeological detective with his mess. The manager who gets results but burns through staff like they're disposable coffee cups. (sotto voce narrator: That last one was my earlier career when I aspired to Miranda Priestley.) Yes, I know better now.

You keep them because they produce. Meanwhile, your culture gets incinerated one interaction at a time. But the video looks good. Well. The edited one.

Julie Gurner works with some of the most successful people on the planet and her Substack, Ultra Successful, is a treasure trove for redirecting arsonists. Her top performers know something yours might not: burning trust while hitting metrics isn't sustainable success.

Catch it: Someone just complained about your top performer. Again. And you're about to defend their results. If your first instinct is to list their achievements, stop.

Fix it: Ask yourself: What's the real cost here? Then have the conversation you've been avoiding. "Your numbers are great. Your impact on the team isn't. Let's talk."

Warning Sign #3: The Feelings Manager

You're managing feelings instead of naming what's real. Everyone's mood is accounted for. Reality? Not so much.

This is the wedding coordinator who spends more energy making sure nobody's upset about the rain than figuring out where to move the ceremony.

"How is everyone feeling about the outdoor setup?""What are our comfort levels with the weather situation?""Let's circle back and check in on how this lands for people."

Meanwhile, it's pouring. The flowers are drowning. The string quartet is packing up their instruments and eyeing the exit.

Sound familiar? The manager who checks emotional temperature seventeen times but won't address the deadline everyone knows is impossible. The executive who asks how people "feel" about the budget cuts while tap-dancing around the conversation about what gets eliminated.

Susan, how are you feeling about losing half your team?

Feelings matter. But feelings aren't strategy. And managing everyone's emotional weather doesn't change the forecast.

Catch it: You're asking "How does everyone feel about..." when you already know what needs to happen. You're stalling with emotional check-ins.

Fix it: Name the reality first. "The deadline is impossible. Here's what we're changing." Then deal with feelings about the reality, not feelings instead of reality.

Warning Sign #4: The Fire Talker

You're saying "we've talked about this" when nothing changed. Talking about the fire isn't the same as putting it out. Feel free to ask the fire department to verify that statement.

The bride's been "discussing" her future mother-in-law's boundary issues for eight months. Every family dinner. Every planning session. Lots of talking. Zero boundaries.

Now it's the wedding day and guess who's rearranging the seating chart and giving orders to the catering staff?

We talked about this.

Sure you did. But talking and doing are different sports.

I watch leaders do this constantly.

"We've addressed the communication problems." Translation: We had a meeting about it.

"We've discussed the timeline concerns." Translation: We acknowledged the issue exists.

"We've covered this in our one-on-ones." Translation: We said words about it.

Meanwhile? The communication problems persist. The timeline is still impossible. The issues keep multiplying like wedding crashers showing up with plus-ones you never invited.

Catch it: You hear yourself saying "We've talked about this" and nothing has changed. You're defending conversations instead of outcomes.

Fix it: Stop talking about the problem. Start solving it. "We've talked about this enough. Here's what's changing by Friday."

Warning Sign #5: The Survey Staller

You're using consensus to dodge the risk. The survey isn't a solution. It's a stall tactic in a friendly font.

This is the wedding planner who responds to every crisis with, "Let's get everyone's input on this." The cake falls? "What does the bridal party think we should do?" The flowers don't arrive? "Let's poll the family on backup options."

Meanwhile, guests are arriving. Time is ticking. Decisions need to happen.

But collecting opinions feels like leadership, right? Everyone gets heard. Everyone's included. Nobody can blame you for the choice because everyone made it.

Except nobody made it. You just distributed the responsibility so thin that nothing moves forward and everyone gets frustrated while you hide behind a Google Form. Or a culture survey, that no one wants to talk about when the results arrive.

Leadership isn't consensus management. It's gathering input, then making the call. Even when nobody's going to love it.

Catch it: You're about to send another survey when you already know what needs to happen. You're asking for input you don't need to avoid making a decision you don't want to make.

Fix it: Gather the input that matters. Make the call. "I know this won't be popular, but here's what we're doing."

Warning Sign #6: The Flatline Leader

You feel proud of how calm you are. Cool. But also: flatline. Your leadership looks like denial with good posture. You call it stoic. Someone else wonders if you've been off that fence lately.

Picture the bride's father during the reception chaos. Bow ties flying. Aunt dancing sideways. Flower girl having her meltdown.

And him? Standing perfectly still. Hands folded. Pleasant expression. "Everything's going beautifully."

Sir, your brother-in-law just fell into the wedding cake.

"I'm sure it will work out."

That's not calm leadership. That's checked-out leadership with a smile. When everything's on fire and you're radiating barbiturate vibes, you're not leading. You're enduring.

Your team doesn't need a meditation teacher during crisis. They need someone who can see what's happening, name it, and move.

Calm is good. Catatonic isn't.

Catch it: People are stressed, things are falling apart, and you're proud of how unruffled you are. Your team is looking at you like you're from another planet.

Fix it: Name what's happening. "This is chaos. Here's how we're going to handle it." Then stay calm while you lead, not instead of leading.

Before the Music Stops

Wobble is a systems alert. You don't fix it with more optimism or another team-building exercise. You fix it by getting back into your solid and grounded stance before someone else names the collapse for you.

Don't you hate when they notice before you do?

The bride who saves her wedding? She stops pretending everything's perfect. She gathers her people, names what's broken, and gets everyone focused on what matters most. Maybe that's moving the ceremony indoors. Maybe it's removing the problem person. Maybe it's changing the timeline. It's definitely cashing out that open bar.

But she stops managing the performance and starts leading the solution.

Connect to purpose. What are you here to do?Check your outcomes. What's the result you're driving toward?Align with your values. What do you stand for when nobody's watching?Stand up strong. Make the call.

The music's still playing. The wobble's still happening. But you don't have to keep dancing to it.

🎵 Get in there, yeah yeah.

The Next Monday Morning

Here's what I know: You'll walk into work this week and see at least three of these warning signs. Maybe all six. The ghost conversation that's haunting every meeting. The trust arsonist everyone tolerates because they hit their numbers. The feelings manager asking how everyone's "comfort level" is with the impossible deadline.

You'll see it. The question is what you do next.

Most leaders wait until the bow ties are flying and the flower girl's having her meltdown. By then, you're not leading the solution, you're cleaning up the wreckage.

The wobble is happening right now. In your next meeting. In tomorrow's one-on-one. In the decision you keep postponing because it feels too hard.

Your team is watching. They're waiting to see if you'll keep dancing to the broken music or if you'll be the one who finally turns it off.

The dance floor is yours.

You know you want to.