johnmaconline

When you work for yourself, you can give yourself whatever professional title you want.

So why take conformist or boring titles like CEO, lead engineer, or machinist?

If you want to be the “Curator of Human-Centered Synergies” or the “Chief Evangelist of Synergistic Paradigms,” no problem. Even “Mindful Experience Architect” might be the one.

However, you’d better know your audience, because that title is the first they see in your professional bio.

If you’re selling vision and vibe, then sure, make your title sing. But if you’re building trust, shipping product, or solving gritty problems, your audience might be looking for something a little more boring, yet understandable.

The point is to remember the purpose. Titles are shorthand. A signal. A pitch in a single phrase.

What are you signaling?

Have you ever worked for a micromanager?

Gives you the task list for the day. Gives you the timeline for the day. Gives you the “how” it should be done. Repeatedly checks. A daily dashboard full of KPI’s, metrics, and graphs.

Chains you to your workstation.

“Check with me.”

This is the industrial way. People as machines.

But we live in a post-industrial world. The post-industrial world doesn’t reward people as machines. It rewards people who use machines.

The teams that win combine creativity, curiosity, and humanness with the ability to deliver. They know the destintation, and they figure it out.

The best leaders of today encourage it. They don’t obsess over control. They build trust.

When you treat them like builders, they’ll create more than you imagined.

Not with chains. With guardrails.

The weight’s getting heavier.
The water’s rising.
The hole’s getting deeper.

The news is always bad.
The bank account’s getting close to zero.
The bills are piling up.

The glass isn’t even half empty — there are only a few drops. There is no way to be optimistic, especially for a realist. In fact, you’re pretty sure if someone tosses a “lemons into lemonade” line your way, you’d punch ’em.

There’s no f’n lemonade.

So what do you do?

Breathe. Make your list. Do one thing. Then the next. One bite at a time. One step at a time. One shovel-full. Faith. Family. Friends.

But never nothing.

The glass will start to fill. One drop. Then another.

Then it’s half full.

Trust is necessary.

Trust yourself. Trust the process. Trust God. Trust it will be all right. Trust you’ll figure it out.

And don’t forget to trust the team.

The team got you here. The team will step up.

Trust the team.

Everything has a user interface. You might want to pay attention to it.

The UI allows you to work it or tells you how it’s working. Is it levers and buttons? Gauges and windows? Maybe it’s audio or video. Do you need physical effort or mental intuition?

The UI is the connection whenever you’re making something for someone else. It’s what you or they see. It’s what you or they use.

What does your UI tell them? What does your UI tell you?

If the interface is unclear, somebody is filling in the blanks. Either them or you.

What are those blanks telling you?

Sometimes the temperature and the breeze is just right. The people standing around you are just right. The activity is just right.

The moment is just right.

Look around. Take it in. Be thankful.

Don’t miss it.

Because tomorrow you’ve gotta climb back down into the trench.

We talk about when it all works. The sunny day scenario.

We highlight it. We get excited. We show the investors. We show our friends.

But it’s gonna break.

You’ll get 8 inches of water in the basement. Your client will no-show. You won’t get a response. You’ll get stuck on the side of the road. The power will go out. The user will do something you never thought of. You’ll have no internet connection.

What will you do then?

We wake up to the buzzing rectangle on our bedside table.
We spend our day staring at the rectangles on our desk.
We drive to where the rectangles tell us to drive.

Maybe we need more circles and triangles.

Tornado warning. Trees and branches falling all around. Inches of rain per hour. Flash flood. Roads unpassable. The groundwater table rises above the elevation of the basement floor. The power goes out. 

What can you do? What does a leader do?

1. Breathe.
2. Assess.
3. Prioritize.
4. Focus.
5. Direct.
6. Empower.
7. Work quickly.
8. Let go what needs to be let go.

Because in a real crisis, everything’s not equally important. Some things will be lost. Some things can’t be saved.

A leader doesn’t panic.
A leader doesn’t freeze.
A leader sees the mess, accepts the chaos, and makes the next decision anyway. Even if it’s the wrong decision.

Leadership isn’t about controlling the storm.

It’s about moving forward within it.

Even when the water’s rising.
Even when the lights go out.
Even when it feels like the end of the world.

Especially then.