Every year, we reset with lofty goals: hit targets, get promoted, improve ourselves. But what if the real breakthrough comes not from inward goals, but outward transformation? This year, let’s become the catalyst for others. Let’s become the light on the hill that lifts the whole team. Rather than finding faults bosses, let's become serial encouragers. We can choose to see others not through their failures, but through their struggles—and their strengths.

Workplaces should not be rife with politics, blame games, or backstabbing. They should be zones of mutual respect, support, and growth. That starts with how we, as leaders, see others. If we approach them with criticism as our default, we kill trust. But if we become “good finders,” we elevate the whole environment. Everyone is carrying invisible burdens—personal, financial, emotional. Leaders must remember that they, too, are imperfect and benefit from leniency. So why deny that understanding to others? Always see staff through the prism of how you were at their age and stage.

Japan’s surface calm hides tremendous internal pressure. Its culture of modesty and conformity can suppress people’s potential. Many live lives of quiet desperation. This year, let’s get off our high horse. Let’s guide people, not grade them. Let’s praise the small steps. Encourage risk. Celebrate growth. Stretch their Comfort Zones without punishing the stumbles.

Drop the complaints. Replace them with gratitude, recognition, and positivity. Shift your language to uplift rather than critique. Be the beacon others can look to—not for perfection—but for permission to grow. As leaders, we are often waiting for others to improve. We stand in front of the empty fireplace and complain its cold. But how’s that working out? Instead, let’s become the spark. Decide to be the world you want to see, then lead from that space.

Being “the light” is not about ego—it’s about service. It is about helping others find their strength, purpose, and potential. That’s the real leadership revolution. Let’s make this year different, not just for ourselves—but for everyone around us.

If this too fluffy for you, then good luck with recruiting and retaining staff in a rapidly diminishing supply employment market. It is only going to get more desperate and so retaining people is the key.

In this Age of Distraction, we’ve got seconds to win our audience’s attention—or lose it. When we’re unclear, rambling, blathering or long-winded, the audience bolts for their phones. If we’re not concise and clear, there’s zero chance of being persuasive, because no one is listening. That’s why structure and delivery matter more than ever.

We often dive too deep into our subject and forget the audience hasn’t followed the same path. That’s where the trouble starts. We confuse them, and they mentally check out. We need to set the topic clearly and grab their attention fast. The opening must be dynamite—wake them up, spark interest, and demand attention.

Then we break the content into five-minute chunks. Each block needs a switch—a story, visual, quote, or killer question—to re-engage. Every point we make must come with proof: data, examples, evidence. Don’t just say it—back it up. Data needs stories and stories need data.

The structure must flow logically. Choose a formula—chronological, thematic, problem-solution-result—and stick to it. Use verbal bridges between sections to guide the audience. “We’ve looked at X, now let’s move to Y.” Without these guideposts, listeners can get lost and mentally leave you.

Timing is our best friend. Rehearsing with a stopwatch forces us to refine our message. We learn to trim fat, sharpen our language, and focus only on what matters. That’s how we avoid running over and skipping key points. We all hate the presenter who rushes through thirty slides in two minutes because they have lost control of the time.

We end powerfully—with two closes. One before the Q&A to hammer home our message, and a final close that leaves them with a resonant takeaway. If we want to be persuasive, we must be sharp, structured, and intentional.

Let’s drop the fluff, build flow, and craft messages people actually remember and can act on

The distance between wanting to buy and actually buying is often vast. Business leaders all have goals, but constraints around money, people, and bandwidth hold them back. The higher up we go, the more strategic the thinking. The CEO is concerned with the future. The CFO focuses on cash this quarter. Line managers just want to hit their numbers and hold on to their team. HR? In Japan, they’re often passive—gatekeepers and internal rule police, not champions of change.

If a buyer feels their current situation and their desired future aren’t too far apart, urgency disappears. No pressure on them so no decision. And doing nothing is always the easiest option. It’s not just about money—it’s also about fear. A purchase can trigger more work, risk, or reveal gaps in capacity. In sales, we need to draw attention to the cost of inaction.

But it doesn’t work if we just tell them. We’re salespeople. They’ll doubt our motives. From their side, they have to tell usthe gap is real—and unacceptable to them. That’s why we ask smart, reflective questions. “What happens if you can’t get there fast enough?” We bring speed into focus because nobody gets there as fast as they want. “What happens if you can’t clear that obstacle?” That’s where we come in with our solution lineup. We speed things up and make success smoother.

We also bring it to the personal level. “If this fails, what does it mean for your team?” Buyers in Japan often avoid talking about personal risk, so we need to connect it to group outcomes.

Our goal isn’t to push—it’s to guide them to the realization that they need help to bridge the gap. Once they see that, they’re open. Now we’re not just selling—they’re buying. The shift is subtle, but it changes everything. Ask the right questions, and the urgency to act starts to belong to them.