Alright folks, last Tuesday hit me hard. My team felt like separate islands, barely talking, totally disconnected. Deadlines were slipping, everyone stressed out, and the vibes? Just awful. I knew I had to do something. This whole “communality” thing kept popping up online, but theory felt useless without action. I needed real steps, right then. So I took a breath and dived in.
The Breaking Point Moment
Picture this: Team call. Awkward silence after I asked for project updates. People staring at cameras like deer in headlights. Questions hung in the air, unanswered. That quiet? It wasn’t comfortable, it was suffocating. Later, Sarah pinged me privately with questions that should have been asked on the call. Mike vented over email about blockers he never mentioned in our meeting. See the mess? Communication broke down completely. People were working alone, scared to speak up, scared to look dumb. Total isolation. It wasn’t just bad for work, it felt rotten.
Why do I care? Honestly? Because it was partly my fault. Years back, I got burned hard. I led a team exactly like this. Saw the same silos, the same quiet desperation. Back then, I was clueless. Thought folks just needed to work harder, figure it out themselves. Stupid me. Project imploded spectacularly. People blamed each other. Trust evaporated. I ended up losing two great teammates who jumped ship. That failure stuck with me. I never wanted to feel that uselessness again, and definitely didn’t want this team crashing the same way. That old scar throbbed seeing last Tuesday unfold.
My “Trial & Error” Experiments
No magic bullet, right? Decided to try simple stuff, stuff anyone could do without big announcements or budget:
- Stealing Talk Time: Instead of diving straight into agenda hell, I tried changing the start of calls. “Hey, before we get buried, how’s everyone actually doing? Just one thing on your plate – work or life.” Week one? Mostly crickets and “Fine, thanks.”. But I kept at it, throwing out silly stuff like “Anyone rescue a pet recently?” or “What actually made you laugh this week?”. Slowly, timidly, bits of real talk crept in. Mike shared about his kid’s soccer game mess. Sarah mentioned stress about a sick relative. Tiny glimpses of the people, not just the workers. Felt different.
- Walking & Talking: Seeing folks glued to screens, isolated? Annoying. Suggested a couple times a week: “Hey, afternoon slump hitting? Virtual walk anyone? 10 minutes, cameras off if you want, just walk and chat about anything non-work.” Sounds pointless? Maybe. First few times it flopped. Nobody joined. Then Jen hopped on, just walking her dog. Next time, Mike joined while pacing his hallway. Now? Couple times a week, 3-4 folks show up, talking about weekend plans, a new podcast, garden troubles. Real chatter. No agenda. Silly? Perhaps. But it breaks the ice. Heard Mike accidentally mention a project issue on one walk he’d bottled up for days!
- Forcing the “Coffee Share”: Read about virtual coffee chats. Made sense. Tried to force it gently. Messaged pairs: “Hey Jen/Mike, you working on the backend report? Grab 15 mins for a virtual coffee this week? Talk shop, or just gossip about bad TV, totally cool.” Early resistance? Oh yeah. “Too busy.” “Not sure what to talk about.” Had to nudge. “Seriously, just 15 minutes. Even if it’s 10 mins of silence, try it.” Started happening. Came back amazed. “Turns out Jen loves bird watching!” Mike told me after his chat. Didn’t solve world hunger, but built one tiny human bridge.
Results? Messy But Human
Did it turn us into a perfect kumbaya circle overnight? Heck no! Still awkwardness. Still missed signals. But somethings shifted. Meetings started with people asking about each other’s weekends before I prompted it. Sarah called out a concern directly on a group call instead of a private DM yesterday. Mike messaged the group asking for quick ideas when stuck, instead of sitting blocked for hours. Progress is tiny steps.
Here’s the raw truth: Investing effort in making folks feel like humans together isn’t fluffy feel-good stuff. It’s essential grunt work. It stops the islands from drifting totally apart. It stops small problems turning into disasters because people hid them. It makes tough days a bit less lonely. Seeing Sarah ask Mike “How’s the kid’s team doing?” at the start of a meeting? Small. But honest? It felt my heart lift. Communality isn’t a poster on the wall. It’s creating little moments where people dare to be people together. It takes guts to try, but seeing those tiny cracks in the walls? Worth every awkward coffee chat.