It was the only element salvaged from Option A, the brilliant, dangerous proposal the lead designer, Marta, had spent three months refining. She’d built a thing of sharp edges and undeniable impact-a user experience that didn’t just guide the customer but demanded their attention. Option B, which was ultimately chosen, was a padded, beige monstrosity, designed less for effectiveness and more for protecting the liability of the legal department. But the red-that specific, deeply saturated, almost violent primary red-that was the color of Option A. They stapled it onto Option B, declaring the resulting hybrid a “consensus victory.”
I sat there watching the whiteboard marker squeak, drawing the outline of the Frankenstein monster they’d just created, and realized this wasn’t about solving the problem. The problem was clear, technical, and demanded a precise, non-negotiable solution. This was about responsibility. It always is.
The Paradox of Accountability
Consensus culture isn’t a safeguard against failure; it’s the most sophisticated mechanism ever invented for diffusing blame. If the resulting product is boring, ineffective, or simply fails to launch, no single person in that room can be held accountable. Every decision, whether it was the mandatory inclusion of the five-step onboarding flow or the mandatory removal of the disruptive but necessary search functionality, was signed off by Sales, Marketing, and Accounting. If everyone is responsible, then paradoxically, no one is.
The Cost of Diffusion
The failure wasn’t due to poor judgment; it was due to ‘market conditions’ or ‘changing goalposts.’ The expert advice-Marta’s advice, my advice-is just noise in the system, a data point to be minimized so the collective risk profile doesn’t spike.
The Sandblasting Process
I’ve watched this sandblasting process repeat itself over and over. You bring an extraordinary vision to the table, something that might genuinely move the needle 41 points on the key metrics, and the committee begins its work. They start by addressing the edges: ‘It’s too jarring.’ ‘The jump scares us.’ ‘Can we make it feel more familiar?’ By the time the committee is done, that extraordinary vision has been sanded down until it’s smooth, predictable, and utterly, unmemorably safe.
I’ve tried the other side of this, too. Recently, I attempted a Pinterest-inspired DIY shelving unit. The instructions promised simplicity-three steps, maximum. The reality was a 231-step process involving specific proprietary dowels and wood glue with a 17-hour curing window. My expertise is in strategy, not carpentry, and I failed miserably. I realized that my frustration with the committee-their need to overcomplicate the simple-was mirrored in my own attempts to follow an overly complex path.
The Soul Must Remain Intact
“If you have two mutually exclusive paths to success, and you try to walk down both simultaneously, all you achieve is standing still in the mud. Compromise is often just dual failure packaged neatly.”
It reminds me of my time shadowing Sky G.H., a truly terrifying, brilliant debate coach I worked with years ago. Sky hated the word ‘compromise’ in strategy discussions. She didn’t mean you shouldn’t negotiate resources or timelines, but that the core philosophical argument-the soul of the solution-must remain intact. The moment you sacrifice the core idea for social cohesion, you’ve stopped being a leader and started being a manager of anxieties.
And what is the core idea? It’s the unique, unrepeatable perspective brought by the person who spent the most time wrestling the monster into submission. It is the clarity of a single mind unburdened by the need to secure 11 votes. That clarity is revolutionary because it is antithetical to the institutional craving for conformity. In an era where organizations default to the lowest common denominator of risk tolerance, true creative control becomes the most valuable currency.
