Welcome to Lead You First. Every essay is a field note: something I’ve tested, observed, or learned the hard way. If it’s here, it’s because it holds up under pressure.
Week one was a mess.
I had work to do. My new employee couldn’t help. I had no plan in place to teach him.
I grunted instructions. He didn’t interpret what I shared in any way that helped him add value.
I grunted. He tried. Then the week was over.
I went home that Friday evening later than usual because I had “his work” and mine to complete. I sent him home early. To get him out of the way.
I was annoyed. And defeated.
“I’m not sure this is going to work out,” I muttered before I started my weekend.
I was simply better than my team.
I had the knowledge, the experience, the relationships, the trust, and the ability and accountability to make decisions.
Handing off was frustrating. It slowed things down. It drained me.
The beginning of the process was full of friction. I was now responsible for my workload and the extra task of putting together a team to someday take on some of my workload; knowing they’d never do it “just as good.”
Or so I thought. (I know, my attitude was horrible.)
I made my first hire. John. A great operator from the production department who’d shared his interest in trying something new. He had a reputation for a strong work ethic, and the recommendation made my job easy.
John started. I had no clue what to do next, but I’d need to figure it out together.
“Hey, welcome to the team, John. We have a ton of work to do. So, you’ve got to pay attention and learn quickly. Follow me.”
That was my introduction and the beginning of my training plan. (Although, it was not structured or planned.)
On Monday, I showed up early. Tons of work waiting ahead, I convinced myself I needed an earlier start.
I walked into the warehouse and there he was.
John also showed up early. We had the same thing in mind: lots of work… earlier start.
I told John to pick up a broom and said I’d get settled, go over the orders and the schedule for the day, then come back and we’d get started.
John looked past the busy work and got started from memory.
He remembered we’d be packing up products, so he filled the tape dispensers and pulled in pallets. He remembered we’d be loading trucks, so he inspected the pallet jack and the truck so we could operate it safely.
He couldn’t remember much else. Because I’d failed to share and was a horrible communicator.
But since his contribution got us about an hour ahead of schedule, I decided to share what I was working on.
That Monday was a wake-up call for me.
If I could find a way to be more intentional about sharing what I know and handing off responsibility, maybe this team thing could work out.
That month challenged me to be more intentional.
I started with no plan and got lucky. John showed me that it was okay to share.
That month allowed me to hand off enough to get me some margin to come up with a plan.
I learned that handing off challenged me to fill the gaps with something else.
Those gaps were filled with learning.
John and I managed the workload, and in between I explored how to do things better.
First, I explored how to hire better. Then I explored how to introduce a new employee better. That led me to training someone better. Which led me to better ways to divide our time and attention. Then led to how to better invest my time and attention.
Over the next months, we added to our team. Over those months, I shared everything I knew with John, who helped me hand off to our team of four.
By the middle of that year, we had a team of four who each grew to be very good at what they did and pretty good at covering one another when needed.
The temptation when you’re the most capable person in the room is to stay the most capable person in the room.
It’s faster if you just do it. It’s cleaner. You know it’ll be done right.
But every time you step in and handle it yourself, you’ve just taught your team that you’re the answer.
And you stay stuck.
The shift isn’t doing less. It’s resisting the urge to do what you’re best at so others can grow into it.
Handing off doesn’t just free your time. It forces you to fill the gaps with something better.
How to hire better. How to train better. How to invest your time in work that actually scales.
The leaders who grow aren’t the ones who do it best.
They’re the ones willing to teach it and let go.
If you’re the most capable person on your team right now, here’s what I’d ask:
What are you holding onto because you’re better at it than anyone else?
And what would happen if you handed it off—even if they did it worse than you at first?
The cost of keeping it is your time.
The cost of handing it off is short-term inefficiency.
But the cost of never handing it off? You stay the bottleneck. Your team never grows. And you’re stuck doing the same work forever.
So pick one thing this week. One task, one decision, one responsibility.
Then do this:
Name what success looks like. Not how to do it—what the outcome needs to be. Give them the target, not the steps.
Show them once, watch them once, let them own it. Don’t just hand it off and walk away. Walk them through the cycle. Then step back.
Fill the gap with a question. Not another task. Ask yourself: What did I just learn about how to do this better next time?
That’s the system.
It scales every time you hand something off.
Because handing off doesn’t just free your time. It forces you to fill the gaps with something better.
The leaders who scale aren’t the ones who handle everything.
They’re the ones who build systems, delegate well, and get out of their own way.
That’s all for this week.
Question for you: What are you holding onto right now because you’re better at it than anyone else? And what would happen if you handed it off?
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