The best partnerships aren’t built on similarity. They’re built on signals.

I learned this the hard way, sitting in a boardroom watching my CEO present quarterly results. Line by line. Number by number. Every detail explained with methodical precision.

The thought flashed through my mind: ‘This is unbearable.’

I didn’t know if I’d said it aloud or just thought it. The horror of that uncertainty jolted me. Because whatever our differences, this was a man of deep integrity. We might approach leadership from opposite ends of the spectrum, but we agreed on what mattered: doing right by people, building something sustainable, leading with honesty.

But in that moment, I realised something was broken. Not between us. Within the partnership itself.

We were unconsciously destroying what we were consciously trying to build.

The Mismatched Partnership

On paper, we were completely mismatched.

He’d worked his way up from the shop floor. Thirty years in operations. Knew every line, every process, every potential failure point. Sceptical of big ideas. An introvert who thought carefully before speaking.

I was the optimist. Energetic, quick to articulate strategy, comfortable presenting to boards and investors. I saw the bigger picture and wanted to move fast.

When I was recruited as his deputy, people questioned the pairing. Different generations. Different styles. Different natural strengths.

And yes, we annoyed each other. Profoundly.

But the problem wasn’t what we thought it was.

The Signals We Couldn’t See

I remember a board meeting where I’d spent forty-five minutes presenting our digital transformation strategy. Brilliant deck. Clear vision. The board was energised, asking strategic questions, leaning forward.

Then my CEO said: ‘Before we approve, let me walk through the operational pathway.’

I felt my energy deflate. We’d just nailed the vision. Why slow down to discuss implementation details? I tried to hide my impatience, but I felt it. The subtle shift in my posture. The almost imperceptible sigh.

What I didn’t see: that moment sent a signal to the entire room. ‘Execution is less important than vision. Strategy matters more than delivery.’

The board heard it. My CEO felt it. And the organisation learned it.

Every presentation I gave seemed to undermine him. I’d stand up, articulate our strategy with clarity and confidence, and watch him sink slightly in his chair. I thought I was helping, creating space for him to focus on operations whilst I handled the strategic narrative.

I was wrong.

Every time I presented, I was broadcasting: ‘Strategic clarity comes from me. Not him.’

The reverse was equally destructive.

I remember a quarterly review where we’d missed revenue targets by 3%. Not catastrophic, but concerning. The market had shifted, a competitor had moved aggressively, and we needed to pivot our strategy quickly.

I came to the meeting ready to discuss the strategic response. New markets. New pricing. New positioning.

He came to the meeting with a spreadsheet. Line by line, variance by variance, he wanted to understand exactly what had happened before we discussed what to do next.

I thought he was being pedantic. We didn’t need a forensic autopsy; we needed strategic speed.

What I didn’t see: every time he drilled into detail, he was broadcasting a different signal. ‘Speed without precision is reckless. Trust the process, not the presentation.’

We weren’t just annoying each other. We were sending contradictory signals about what mattered. And the organisation was watching, trying to decode which leader to follow.

This is what I now call The Leadership Echo, the amplified, often unconscious, message sent by a leader’s actions, tolerances, and priorities. It is the most powerful signal in any organisation, and if left unchecked, it will override any strategy, no matter how brilliantly conceived.

The Intervention

Thankfully, my CEO recognized what I couldn’t see: we needed help.

He brought in external support. Not to fix us, neither of us was broken, but to create the space where truth could surface without defensiveness.

The feedback came quickly. They saw what we couldn’t.

We weren’t annoying each other because we were incompatible. We were annoying each other because our unconscious signals were contradicting each other’s strengths.

My presentations weren’t undermining him because I was arrogant. They were undermining him because, for an introvert who chose his words carefully, my ease with language highlighted what he found most difficult. Every time I stood up, I was inadvertently broadcasting: ‘This is the skill that matters.’

His operational reviews weren’t obstructing me because he was pedantic. They were frustrating me because, for someone who thrived on strategic speed, his methodical approach felt like friction. Every time he drilled into detail, he was inadvertently broadcasting: ‘Strategic thinking without operational rigour is dangerous.’

Neither of us intended those signals. But that’s what the organisation heard.

The Three Echoes We Were Creating

The external support helped us see three specific signals we were transmitting daily.

The Decisional Echo: Where We Spent Our Time

I spent 90% of my calendar on strategic initiatives, investor relations, and forward-looking projects. He spent 90% of his time on operational reviews, process improvement, and line management.

The organisation didn’t see complementary leadership. They saw contradiction.

When the CEO spends his time on operational detail and the deputy spends his time on strategic vision, the signal is clear: ‘We don’t agree on what matters most.’

Teams didn’t know which signal to follow. So they followed neither.

The Emotional Echo: How We Reacted Under Pressure

That quarterly miss was the perfect example.

When results disappointed, I’d pivot to strategy. ‘Let’s look at the market shifts, the new opportunities, the way forward.’ The signal: ‘When things go wrong, move faster.’

When results disappointed, he’d drill into the numbers. ‘Let’s understand exactly what happened, line by line.’ The signal: ‘When things go wrong, slow down and understand.’

Both valid. Both leadership. Both sending opposite messages about what to do in a crisis.

The organisation watched us react differently to the same problem and learned: ‘Our leaders don’t agree on how to navigate volatility.’

The Relational Echo: Who We Promoted

I remember a talent review where we discussed two candidates for a senior role.

One was a strategic thinker. Big ideas. Could articulate vision. Energised rooms. But light on operational delivery.

The other was an operational expert. Knew the business inside out. Delivered consistently. But struggled to articulate strategy.

I championed the strategic thinker. He championed the operational expert.

We debated. We compromised. We ended up promoting neither.

But the signal we sent to every high-potential leader watching that decision was devastating: ‘We don’t actually know what we value. Strategic vision or operational delivery. Pick one and hope you guessed right.’

The Breakthrough

The shift wasn’t in changing who we were. It was in understanding the signals we were sending.

When he went into operational detail, he wasn’t trying to slow me down. That was his way of building the confidence to make big strategic moves. Once I understood that, the frustration dissolved. I could see the intention beneath the signal.

When I presented strategy with clarity, I wasn’t trying to show him up. I was doing the thing that energised me and, crucially, the thing he found exhausting. Once he understood that, my presentations stopped feeling like personal undermining and started feeling like partnership.

Here’s what changed everything: once we understood the signals we were each sending, they stopped annoying us.

I wasn’t annoyed by his detail because I understood he wasn’t questioning my strategic thinking. He was building his own confidence.

He wasn’t threatened by my presentations because he understood I wasn’t highlighting his weakness. I was playing to my strength so he could play to his.

The signals didn’t change. Our interpretation of them did.

Aligning the Echo

The real shift happened about six weeks after the intervention.

We had a board meeting to discuss a major capital investment. High stakes. Contentious decision. The kind of moment where our contradictory signals had previously created confusion.

He was presenting the operational case, going through the numbers with his usual thoroughness. I felt the old frustration rising. We had strategic decisions to make, and we were in the weeds again.

Then he paused, looked at me, and said: ‘David, before I go deeper, can you frame the strategic context for this investment?’

It was a small gesture. But the signal to the board was enormous.

‘We need both. Vision and rigour. Strategic clarity and operational precision. This is leadership, not contradiction.’

I presented the strategic rationale. He walked through the operational pathway. The board saw partnership, not competition.

From that moment, everything changed.

We started making our signals intentional. In performance reviews, I’d start with strategic context; he’d finish with operational delivery expectations. In talent discussions, we’d explicitly assess both strategic potential and execution capability. In crisis moments, I’d acknowledge his need for precision before pushing for speed.

We didn’t become more similar. We became more intentional.

The business results validated the shift. The years that followed were some of the most successful in the company’s history, culminating in a successful IPO process. Not because we stopped being different, but because we stopped sending contradictory signals about what mattered.

What Created the Space

The external support didn’t teach us anything we didn’t already know. We both knew we were different. We both knew we respected each other.

What they did was create distance. Proximity creates blindness. Distance creates clarity.

They created the stillness required to see our own signals. Because when you’re inside the noise, when you’re reacting to the friction, you can’t see the pattern you’re creating.

The Lesson for Leadership Teams

The friction between us wasn’t unique. I see it everywhere now.

The CFO who thinks the CMO is reckless because they move on instinct. The CMO who thinks the CFO is obstructive because they demand proof. Both broadcasting opposite signals about what risk tolerance looks like. Both wondering why the organisation is paralysed.

The visionary CEO who thinks the COO is slowing them down. The COO who thinks the CEO is disconnected from reality. Both broadcasting contradictory messages about whether speed or rigour matters more. Both frustrated that execution stalls.

Both capable. Both committed. Both unconsciously undermining the partnership through the signals they can’t see.

The partnerships that fail aren’t the ones where leaders are different. They’re the ones where leaders can’t see the signals they’re sending.

Space Creates Clarity

Most leadership teams don’t need more strategy. They need stillness.

Stillness to step back and see the wood from the trees. Stillness to surface the unconscious signals before they destroy what you’re consciously trying to build. Stillness to understand that the friction isn’t about who’s right; it’s about what signal the organisation is receiving.

That CEO and I became a genuinely great team. Not because we became more alike, but because someone created the conditions where we could see our signals clearly, and choose to align them rather than let them contradict.

He taught me the discipline of operational excellence. I helped him articulate strategy with confidence. Together, we built something neither of us could have built alone.

And when I think about what made that possible, it wasn’t similarity. It wasn’t compromise. It wasn’t even compatibility.

It was seeing our Leadership Echo, understanding the signals we were sending, and choosing to align them with intention.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: right now, you’re broadcasting signals you can’t see. Your leadership team is receiving them. Your organisation is decoding them. And the friction you’re experiencing isn’t about strategy or capability.

It’s about The Leadership Echo.

The signal is always found in the stillness.