How We Help Leaders Hear What Matters

Where listening becomes strategy.

We often prioritize data when something is going wrong. But what would change if we committed to learning from data even—and especially—when things are going right?

Recently, my husband experienced a brief but frightening medical crisis. The immediate danger has passed, but my body and mind are still processing what happened. One moment in particular keeps replaying: things had escalated quickly, and several nurses rushed into the room to connect him to monitors. Then, almost as quickly as they arrived, they left.

For minutes that felt like hours, it was just the two of us and a screen displaying his vitals, sounding a quiet alarm every few moments. I was there in the emergency room in 2026, but I was also back in the NICU with our daughter in the spring of 2017. I felt the familiar confusion of not knowing why a medical professional did not appear every time an alarm sounded. I remembered the desperate focus on oxygen saturation and heart rate numbers. I stared at that screen like I was praying—as if, by watching closely enough, I could keep the numbers stable and will my husband back to health.

My body remembered what it felt like to need those numbers: tiny facts that assured me the person I loved was going to be okay, even when everything felt awful and terrifying. For the five weeks our daughter lived in the NICU, I always knew her oxygen saturation. I had never thought much about that number until I learned, in the first 24 hours of her life, that she could forget to breathe and that the number could drop.

I became attached to the numbers the doctors used to measure her progress: the ounces she needed to gain, the thresholds she needed to meet, the signals that meant she was safe enough to come home. On the morning she was finally discharged, we learned she had failed her car seat test—her oxygen saturation dropping too low once again—and that we would need a car bed to transport her until she could pass.

I hated how dependent I had become on those numbers. And yet, when she was discharged, I was terrified of losing access to them. How would I know she was okay? We had to learn new forms of data collection—information that felt less tangible than numbers on a screen, but was just as valuable. We learned to read her body’s signals and her ways of communicating. Slowly, we learned to trust our own wisdom and expertise rather than defer entirely to medical professionals. Over time, I would find myself holding her in the middle of the night, feeling her chest rise and fall and her heartbeat steadily against mine, and I just knew: she was okay. We were okay. We were all going to be okay.

Nine years later, I felt that same fear when my husband was discharged from the hospital. I wanted him home, but I was afraid of losing the data that had reassured me he was stable. I had to remind myself that there were other kinds of data available to me—data I could observe, interpret, and trust outside of a crisis and beyond the walls of a hospital.

Why Organizations Wait for a Crisis to Listen

I have been fortunate to partner with organizations during their own kinds of crises: funding cuts, staffing changes, shifting program priorities, morale decline, community trauma, employee loss, and retention struggles. In those moments, leaders often know they need clearer information, but they may not be able to collect it on their own.

Our interventions vary depending on the need: coaching for leaders, confidential support for HR professionals, facilitated group spaces for processing and learning, and listening tours with employees. Each engagement includes a final report that provides not only the data, but also a roadmap—recommendations for moving forward and a clear articulation of the strengths the organization can leverage to grow stronger.

When an organization is in crisis, I often see relief on a leader’s face during our first conversation. They realize they no longer have to move through the challenge alone, and that they will receive the data they need—often data they cannot safely or effectively collect themselves—to understand what is happening and decide what comes next.

The conversations I have during confidential listening tours are deeply personal. I use what I learn to identify patterns, outliers, and needs that may otherwise remain invisible. I aggregate the data to protect each individual’s confidentiality, but the conversations themselves are specific and precise. Employees share details that help me understand the larger system more deeply.

Listening as a Form of Data Collection

What I am able to learn is shaped by how I go about learning it. I draw on my experience in crisis counseling and facilitation to create spaces that open dialogue rather than narrow it. My goal is for employees to feel seen and heard, even when I do not have the power to create immediate change. I work to establish trust through clarity, transparency, and care. I begin by asking what questions they have for me—because everyone deserves clarity before they begin—and what is most important for them to share and for me to understand.

Listening tours can be slow to start when organizational trust is low. But trust can build when people experience a process that is thoughtful, confidential, and honest. Often, those who meet with me encourage others to do the same. After the report is complete and leaders communicate findings and recommendations back to the organization, the feedback I receive reinforces a central truth: investing in confidential spaces for employees to share their experiences can strengthen an organization.

This work also requires compassionate accountability for leadership and HR teams. Learning what employees are experiencing can be impactful, and leaders need their own confidential space to process, reflect, and translate insight into meaningful action.

When we face a challenge, we lean on data to understand what went wrong and to prevent it from happening again. But what if data were not only a tool for recovery? What if it were also a practice for growth, connection, and resilience?

Too often, organizations wait until morale has declined, trust has eroded, or people are already leaving before they create space to listen. Anonymous surveys have value, but they have limits. They can identify themes, but they often cannot capture nuance, context, or the human details behind the numbers.

What If We Gathered Better Data Before Things Break?

A routine organizational check-up could offer something different: a regular opportunity for employees to share openly and specifically, for leaders to listen and reflect, and for teams to name what is working as well as what needs attention. It could help people feel connected, motivated, and aligned before crisis becomes the catalyst for change.

The data we need in crisis matters. It can steady us, guide us, and help us make decisions when the stakes are high. But the data we gather when things are going well may be just as important. It reminds us that listening is not only a response to harm; it is a practice of care. And when we make that practice routine, we give ourselves and our organizations a better chance not only to recover, but to thrive.