What I see most often in technology organizations is not chaos or lack of effort, but something far more subtle and far more corrosive over time: a gradual loss of shared reality. People are busy, systems keep running, projects advance more or less according to plan, and yet a few months later there is a collective sense of surprise about where things stand and how priorities quietly drifted without anyone explicitly deciding that they should.
Alignment, I’ve learned, does not persist by default. It degrades slowly and politely, without confrontation. Each team optimizes within its own constraints, each manager makes (rather) sensible local decisions, and before long the organization continues to move, but without a clearly articulated direction that everyone recognizes in the same way.
What has helped me most over the years is not adding more reporting or introducing heavier governance, but installing a simple and very deliberate rhythm. Once a month, thirty minutes, with the same leadership group, following the same structure. No elaborate decks, no theatrical preparation, just a disciplined moment to pause and define what is actually happening.
The first part of that conversation is narrative. What really happened during the past month, not as a list of activities, but as a story that captures progress, friction, surprises, and changes in context. When this story cannot be told clearly, or when several versions of it emerge in the room, it usually means reality has already started to fragment across the organization.
The second part anchors that narrative with a small set of numbers chosen for their ability to ground the discussion. These are not meant to overwhelm or impress, but to bring gravity and proportion to what is being said. Used well, numbers prevent wishful thinking without replacing judgment, and they help keep the conversation honest without turning it into an accounting exercise.
The final part is where this ritual becomes truly effective: decisions. Concrete, explicit decisions about what should change as a result of what has just been acknowledged. What deserves reinforcement, what needs to slow down, what should stop consuming energy, and what requires escalation. Without this step, the conversation remains interesting but inconsequential, and drift resumes almost immediately.
What makes this work is not brilliance or insight, but cadence. By returning to this rhythm month after month, the organization develops a shared reference point. Ambiguities surface earlier, misalignments are corrected while they are still manageable, and people stop filling gaps with assumptions of their own. Even as the external context shifts, there is a common understanding of where things stand. I have seen organizations attempt to solve drift by adding structure, forums, and layers of process. In my experience, that tends to add noise rather than clarity. What consistently helps is naming reality regularly, calmly, and collectively, without drama and without avoidance.
This ritual does not replace strategy, but it keeps strategy connected to what is actually happening. In environments where technology, business pressure, and uncertainty evolve faster than any annual plan, that connection is one of the most valuable leadership habits we can cultivate.
