There's a one-pager my analyst has been working on for the past few weeks. He's sent it over more than once and I've provided feedback on how to improve it. It is mostly internally facing, but our CEO will see it at some point, and it needs to look great. The first time he sent me a version, I had a fair amount of feedback. The second time, I made a few more notes. But lately, I find myself opening the file, giving it a once-over, and just letting it be.
It’s never exactly how I’d do it. The font size on one section and the formatting feels a little off. Some of the data tables don't have the data centered, among other small details. I've started to pause and, most of the time say it’s good. It gets the job done. It’s clean, readable, and well-intentioned. It’s “good enough” not in the apathetic sense, but in the professional, let’s-keep things moving sense.
We underestimate how much energy is wasted in the pursuit of our version of "just right." There are so many outcomes in life, work, and relationships that look different than how we’d do them, but they still work and do the job just fine. They still carry the same meaning or reach the same result.
Micromanagement often disguises itself as “high standards.” Sometimes it is, but other times it’s just exerting control. A quiet fear that if we don’t shape everything to our vision, the whole thing will collapse. That our name will somehow be tainted by someone else’s minor design decision. Pausing and allowing your colleague, your spouse, your loved one, the opportunity to do things their way can have a major impact on their trust in you. This is especially true when their way is accomplishing the same objective as your way would.
There’s an important difference between feedback that sharpens and feedback that stifles. The first teaches and the latter implies to someone they’ll never quite get it right without your approval. If you want to build trust, competence, and upward momentum in the people around you, you have to know when to not interrupt. Not everything needs a comment. This gives that person the feeling of approaching a yellow light, but then it turns green at the last second before you stop, allowing the momentum to continue without hesitation.
I used to think good leadership meant constantly improving everything. Now I think good leadership is knowing when not to interrupt. There’s still a time and place for edits, but the older I get, the more I believe that a clean “looks great” is one of the most underrated responses to a request for review. This tells them that you trust their original work and see their effort.
Even now, as I look at this essay, I’m tempted to tweak a sentence, rework a paragraph, or change some phrasings. Then I stop and think that it’s good enough. It already gets the job done, so why toil over perfection. It looks great.