When you’re ready and they’re not

Welcome to issue #018 of Under the Surface. Each week, I share one thoughtful piece to help you grow, lead and thrive in the messy reality of project work. If something lands - or misses - I’d love to hear your thoughts. And if you’re exploring what’s next, you can join the Pathfinder waitlist to go deeper with others on the same journey.

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We talk about progression as if it’s a straight line — a ladder to climb. But the truth is more layered than that. Some grow above it, into direction and strategy, learning to see the bigger picture and think several moves ahead. Others thrive beside it, staying close to the technical craft, where they find purpose in precision and quality. And some realise they’re simply not ready for it yet — or that they never will be, and that’s perfectly fine.

It’s not about hierarchy. It’s about fit. About knowing where you do your best work — and having the courage to stay there, or move when the time is right.

This week reminded me, once again, how differently people experience management. Some absolutely thrive on it — the decisions, the pressure, the people. They feed off the challenge of bringing others together to deliver something complex. They love the sense of responsibility, the influence, the chance to shape the outcome.

But for others, that same environment can feel suffocating. They try management, taste it, and quickly realise it’s not for them. They’d much rather stay closer to the work itself — the technical details, the quality, the scope. They want to make sure things work before worrying about who’s doing what. And you know what? That’s completely fine. It’s not for everyone.

Yet, in so many small and medium-sized businesses, this simple truth seems to make people uncomfortable. There’s still this unspoken rule that progression must mean moving into management — as if that’s the only direction someone can grow. If you’re good at what you do, the next logical step is to lead people doing the same thing. It’s seen as the ultimate marker of maturity, of success. But that assumption causes a quiet kind of frustration for so many capable professionals who want growth, but not necessarily that kind of growth.

When potential meets hesitation

I’ve seen it time and again — and I’ve lived it too. Someone clearly has the ability and the drive to take on more. You can see it in how they operate, how they think, how they carry themselves. They make decisions without fuss, they influence others naturally, and they’re already performing at a level above their title. But when they put their hand up for something new, the response is lukewarm at best.

Sometimes they’re not just ready for more responsibility — they’re ready for a different level altogether. They may be a manager who is already thinking and acting like a director: balancing risk, shaping culture, seeing the bigger commercial picture. But because their title still says manager, nobody calls it what it is.

The words vary, but the message is always the same. “We don’t have the budget right now.”

“You’re too valuable where you are.”

“There’s no one ready to take your place.”

I heard all of those. More than once.

And the worst part wasn’t the refusal — it was the complete absence of conversation around it. Nobody asked why I was ready, what I was looking for, or where I wanted to go. Nobody tried to understand what was driving me. It was just a polite “no” followed by a change of subject.

So, I did what most people eventually do when the pattern becomes too clear. I left.

I moved to another company, nearly doubled my take-home pay, changed sectors completely, and went off on a different path. That single decision changed everything for me — not just financially, but professionally and personally too. It forced me to see that staying loyal to a system that wasn’t ready for me wasn’t noble; it was naïve.

Looking back now, I can appreciate that those who said no probably had their own pressures — tight budgets, demanding clients, organisational politics. They were managing risk, not opportunity. But it wasn’t their business. They were protecting what was right in front of them, not what could have been possible.

And that, if I’m honest, pissed me off.

Because somewhere along the line, someone decided that progression should happen according to a timeline — that careers should unfold neatly, one rung at a time, and that ambition needed to be moderated. People have opinions about how quickly or slowly someone should rise, as though development is something you can ration out. Why? Who benefits from that?

Maybe that’s why I decided to work for myself. Nobody to hold me back but me. Nobody to say no three times without explanation. Nobody to filter my potential through their sense of comfort or control. Just me, my decisions and my consequences. And maybe one day I’ll find out whether that makes me a maverick or a muppet! But at least I’ll know the result came from my own choices — not someone else’s hesitation.

When holding on means losing out

What I see too often now — particularly in project environments — is that businesses hold on to people out of fear. They don’t want to lose good people, so they keep them boxed in. They rationalise it as stability. But what they’re really doing is quietly pushing people away.

The irony is painful. The same organisations that say “we can’t afford to lose them” are the ones who never create the space for them to grow. And then, inevitably, they leave. Not because they were impatient or disloyal, but because nobody gave them a reason to stay.

In so many cases, the people who leave aren’t walking away from the work — they’re walking away from the ceiling. They’ve already outgrown the role, often operating at a level that looks and feels like management or more, but without the permission or recognition to match. And when that happens, departure isn’t defection — it’s inevitability.

That’s not leadership. That’s short-term survival dressed up as strategy.

When you find someone with potential, that’s not a problem to manage — it’s a privilege to have. The job of a business leader, especially in small or medium businesses, is to think beyond the immediate delivery and imagine what could be possible in six, twelve, eighteen months or beyond. It’s to look ahead, not down.

If you’ve got someone ready to step up, that’s an opportunity. If you’ve got nobody to fill their shoes, that’s a challenge worth solving — not an excuse to stop moving. Because holding someone back doesn’t protect the business; it erodes it quietly, one frustrated professional at a time.

When the fit no longer fits

Then there’s the other side of the coin — the person who’s already in the role but feels completely detached from it. Maybe they were promoted because of potential. Maybe they were the safe choice. Maybe they said yes before they had time to think about what it meant. But now, they’re showing up, going through the motions and wondering how they ended up here.

They’re still competent. Still professional. But they’re no longer present. And the people around them can sense it.

This is where business leadership really matters. Not in dashboards, meetings, or processes, but in conversation. It’s about noticing the shift and having the courage to ask the questions nobody else wants to ask…

What’s changed?

What’s getting in the way?

What matters most to you right now?

These are simple questions, but they’re rare in project life. Everyone’s too busy delivering. Too focused on outputs to pause for understanding.

Sometimes the best thing you can do for someone is to give them space to think — to take the pressure off long enough for them to figure out whether they still want what they once said they did. Because it’s not always about progression. Sometimes it’s about alignment. About reconnecting what people do with why they do it.

And if, after that, the conclusion is that they need to move on, that’s fine. Let them do it with dignity and respect. Because how someone leaves says as much about leadership as how someone joins.

Building two paths, not one

The truth is, not everyone wants to lead teams. Not everyone wants to sit in meetings or manage people. Some want to lead through expertise — by setting standards, solving difficult problems and driving quality. Others want to lead through people — by coaching, motivating and making things happen through others.

Both paths are valuable. Both deserve respect.

Yet, too often, the technical path is treated as second class — as if staying close to the work is a sign of stalled ambition. It isn’t. It’s a different kind of ambition. A quieter one, but no less powerful.

If you’re running a project, a team, or a business, think carefully about this. Do you have room for both types of growth? Can someone stay technical and still advance? Can someone step into management without feeling trapped by it?

When you value both paths equally, you give people freedom. And freedom, in any organisation, is the thing that fuels loyalty.

People before process

Projects are full of process — dashboards, reports, KPIs. But the thing that really keeps a project alive is conversation. When someone’s energy shifts, when potential is being wasted, or when people start to feel invisible, the answer isn’t another system. It’s a chat.

Sit down with them. Ask what’s going on. Be human first, manager second.

Because leadership isn’t about control. It’s about care. It’s about creating the kind of environment where people can be honest about what they want, even when that’s inconvenient for you.

And if you’re the person feeling boxed in right now — wondering if it’s you, if you’re being too ambitious, too restless — it’s not just you. This happens everywhere. Especially in smaller project organisations where headcount is tight and career paths are unclear.

You’re not alone. You’re not difficult. You’re not impatient. You’re just ready.

So talk. Ask. Explore. Give the people around you a chance to understand what you need — and give your company a chance to rise to it. The right environment won’t clip your wings; it’ll help you learn how to use them.

And if, after all that, nothing changes — if the ceiling still feels too low and the path too narrow — then move. Step into something new and give yourself the freedom to find out what’s really possible when nobody’s standing in your way.

Because sometimes the only way to know is to take that first step — the one everyone else keeps talking themselves out of.

Yours,

Gerwyn

PS – What we’re building at Coron Projects

I’m building something for project professionals who want more than just tasks and titles. Pathfinder is a new kind of membership built for people in engineering and construction who are ready to grow, lead and thrive on their terms. No corporate bullshit. No gatekeepers. Just the tools, support and mindset shifts that help you take ownership of your career.

It’s currently in development and if that sounds like something you might want in your corner, you can join the waitlist here and include “Pathfinder” in the message.