Inherited Leadership: Lessons from a Team I Didn’t Build

No. 1 — I Didn’t Choose the Role. The Role Chose Me
I didn’t want the job.
That’s not how leadership stories are supposed to start, but this one doesn’t need a filter.
At the time, I was in a good spot. Strong performance. Clear lane. Things were working. Then came the conversation.
“This would be a great opportunity for you.”
(Translation: you’re taking this role.)
I pushed back. Respectfully. Thoughtfully. (Naively.)
“I’m not sure it’s the best fit…”
They nodded. Then came the closer.
“You can say no. It may limit your career.”
Ah. Choice. The corporate kind.
So I said yes.
Not because I felt called to it. Because I understood the game. And if you’ve been around long enough, you know exactly how that game works.
Then I walked into it.
On paper, the team looked solid. Capable people. Good experience. Strong resumes.
In reality… I stepped into a pile.
You could feel it almost immediately.
Conversations were polite, but guarded. People chose their words carefully. (Always a great sign.) There were pauses where there shouldn’t be pauses. Side glances. Half-answers.
And then there was Sarah.
Sarah reported directly to me. Smart. Engaged. Knew what she was doing. Also… seemed to be at the center of more than a few conversations I didn’t fully understand yet.
Nothing obvious.
Just… present.
Which, in hindsight, was my first clue.
I told myself, “Give it a few weeks. Learn the dynamics. Don’t overreact.”
That sounded wise.
It was also incomplete.
Because I didn’t inherit a team.
I inherited a story.
Actually, several.
Depending on who I talked to, I got a different version of reality. One person raised concerns. Another defended. A third suggested there was more going on beneath the surface.
Helpful.
I remember walking out of a few early conversations thinking, “Alright… someone’s not telling me the full truth here.”
Turns out, everyone was telling their version of it.
And I was trying to piece it together like there was one correct answer.
That was my first mistake.
I tried to figure out who was right.
Wrong question.
Because when trust is low, facts get replaced by narratives. And narratives don’t feel like opinions. They feel like truth.
Confident. Polished. Convincing.
I was trying to solve a people problem like it was a math problem.
(It wasn’t.)
Looking back, it was a turnaround situation. I just didn’t call it that at the time. There were strained relationships, inconsistent trust, and tension that everyone felt but no one addressed directly.
Including me.
What I thought I needed to understand was the work.
What I actually needed to understand was how people were working together.
That’s where things were breaking down.
That’s where leadership was required.
And that’s where I was slower than I should’ve been.
That season started shaping something in me I couldn’t fully name yet.
That how you lead… how people communicate, trust, challenge, and align… matters more than what’s getting produced on paper.
I just hadn’t put language to it.
Leadership challenge: When you step into something new, are you trying to figure out who’s right… or what’s really going on?
Because if you get that wrong early, you don’t just inherit the problem.
You help sustain it.

No. 2 — Strong Talent, Weak Trust
On paper, the team was solid.
Smart people. Capable. Experienced. The kind of group you’d expect to perform.
And to be fair… they did.
But something wasn’t right.
It didn’t show up in the work. It showed up in the way people worked together. Or didn’t.
I started hearing it in conversations. Not directly, of course. That would’ve been too easy.
It came out sideways.
One-on-one comments.
Carefully worded concerns.
“Well, just so you’re aware…” (always a promising start)
One person would question another’s performance. Someone else would defend that same person. A third would quietly suggest there was “more going on.”
Helpful.
Sarah was often in the middle of those conversations.
Not always the one raising the concern. But close to it. A participant. A validator. Sometimes a translator of what “others” were thinking.
Again, nothing blatant.
(That would’ve made this easier.)
Just consistent enough to notice.
At some point, I wrote it down as plainly as I could.
The team doesn’t like each other. The root issue is trust.
Not a skills problem. Not a workload issue. A trust problem.
Which is significantly harder to fix.
Because you can coach skills. You can adjust workload.
Trust? That’s earned, lost, and rarely repaired quickly.
Individually, people showed up strong. Sarah included. She could deliver. She knew the business. She stayed engaged in what was happening across the team.
Collectively, something broke.
There was hesitation in meetings. People chose their words carefully. Feedback was filtered. Conversations felt managed.
And the more I paid attention, the more I noticed something else.
Trust wasn’t just low.
It was directional.
Certain people trusted certain people. Others didn’t. And those lines weren’t always visible unless you were looking for them.
I remember thinking, “This doesn’t make sense.”
Which, in hindsight, was the first clue that it made perfect sense.
Because high-performing individuals don’t automatically become a high-functioning team.
That requires trust.
And trust was in short supply.
Here’s where I went wrong early.
I focused on performance.
Who’s delivering? Who’s not? Where are the gaps?
All reasonable questions.
None of them the real issue.
Because you can have strong individual performance inside a broken team. In fact, sometimes performance masks the problem.
People still hit deadlines. Work still gets done. On paper, everything looks fine.
Meanwhile, under the surface, relationships are strained, assumptions are growing, and narratives are forming.
Sarah wasn’t the only one contributing to that.
But she was consistently part of the environment where it showed up.
And I didn’t fully connect that early.
I thought I had inherited a performance challenge.
I hadn’t.
I had inherited a trust problem.
And I was slower than I should’ve been to treat it like one.
Leadership challenge: Is your team actually aligned… or just producing?
Because those are not the same thing.
And if trust is missing, performance won’t fix it.
It just hides it.

No. 3 – The Quiet Campaign
It didn’t show up as a confrontation.
No raised voices. No direct accusations. Nothing you could point to and say, “That’s the issue right there.”
It came in the form of concern.
“I’ve been hearing some things…”
“There’s a perception…”
“This might be bigger than it looks…”
(“Perception” is one of those words that sounds helpful and usually isn’t.)
The focus of the conversation was one of my team members.
Depending on who I talked to, his performance was either a concern… or completely fine.
Which is a problem.
Because that’s not a small gap. That’s two different realities.
The feedback I was getting wasn’t isolated. It was consistent. Referenced as coming from “a number of people.” Framed as something I needed to be aware of before it became a bigger issue.
And Sarah was close to it.
Sometimes she was the one raising the concern. Other times she was reinforcing it. Adding context. Helping shape how the situation was being interpreted.
Again, nothing overt.
(There’s a theme here.)
Just steady.
And that’s what made it effective.
At first, I did what you’d expect.
I listened.
Took notes. Asked questions. Tried to understand the situation from multiple angles.
That’s leadership, right?
Except something didn’t sit right.
Because alongside that feedback, I was hearing something else.
Positive input. Different experiences. Less coordinated. Less polished. But just as real.
So now I had two streams.
One consistent, aligned, and clearly communicated.
The other more scattered, but not insignificant.
And I had to decide what to trust.
This is where I missed it.
I gave more weight to the consistency.
Which sounds logical.
If multiple people are saying the same thing, it must be true.
Not always.
Sometimes it just means the message is being reinforced.
And I didn’t fully recognize that at the time.
I thought I was being informed.
Looking back, I was also being influenced.
That’s a hard realization.
Because as a leader, you want to believe people are bringing you truth. Not shaping a narrative.
But over time, it became clearer.
The feedback wasn’t forming organically.
It was being built.
Conversation by conversation. Comment by comment. Always pointing in the same direction.
And I had allowed it to carry more weight than it should have.
Not because I was careless.
Because I didn’t slow down enough to separate what I was observing from what I was being told.
And those two weren’t fully aligned.
That was the lesson.
Leadership isn’t just about listening.
It’s about discerning.
Not every concern is clean.
Not every pattern is accidental.
And not every consistent message is neutral.
If you’re not careful, you start making decisions based on a version of reality that was shaped before it ever reached you.
I learned to ask better questions.
What have I actually seen?
What’s been verified?
Who’s consistently driving the conversation?
Not cynical.
Just… awake.
Because once a narrative takes hold, it’s hard to unwind.
And if you get it wrong, you don’t just misread the situation.
You impact the team.
Leadership challenge: When you’re hearing consistent feedback, are you evaluating the message… or also the pattern behind how it’s being built?
Because both matter.
More than you think.

NEW: No. 4 When Accountability Gets… Complicated
This one didn’t stay a simple performance issue for long.
Sarah reported to me. And one of her direct reports was struggling.
Not in a subtle way.
There were clear gaps. Communication issues. Defensiveness. Missed expectations. The kind of things you can work with… if you address them directly.
So I pushed Sarah to do just that.
Address it. Be clear. Hold the standard.
She didn’t agree.
Not outright confrontation. Just resistance. Hesitation. A different read on the situation.
(Which is always helpful when you’re trying to lead through something cleanly.)
So now we had a layered problem.
A performance issue.
A disagreement on how to handle it.
And a leader in the middle trying to create clarity.
We moved forward with the rating.
“Meets Some.”
Not ideal. But supported. Documented. Fair.
Then it escalated.
The employee went to Employee Relations claiming retribution.
That’ll get your attention.
Now we’re not just talking about performance.
We’re talking about intent.
And I’m in the hot seat.
Explaining decisions. Reconstructing conversations. Walking through documentation.
And doing it with Sarah… not exactly aligned beside me.
Uncomfortable all the way around.
Fortunately, we had done the work.
Specific examples. Clear documentation. Consistent feedback.
That’s where my civil treatment training kicked in.
Stick to the facts.
Stay calm.
Don’t get pulled into emotion.
(Which is easier said than done when someone is questioning your integrity.)
The investigation ran its course.
The claim was ruled unsubstantiated.
Which was the right outcome.
But it didn’t feel like a win.
It felt like survival.
Because even when you’re right, situations like that take something out of you.
Eventually, the employee was let go.
And then we learned something we didn’t expect.
She had falsified her job application.
Listed a college degree she didn’t have.
Which was required for the role.
At that point, you just sit back for a second.
Not because it changes what happened.
But because it reinforces something.
You can do the hard things right.
You can document. Communicate. Lead with integrity.
And it can still be messy.
Really messy.
What I learned in that stretch wasn’t just about performance management.
It was about alignment.
If your leaders aren’t aligned, accountability gets complicated fast.
It was about preparation.
Documentation isn’t bureaucracy. It’s protection.
And it was about composure.
Because when things escalate, how you show up matters as much as what you know.
Leadership challenge: Are you addressing performance issues early… and are your leaders aligned when you do?
Because if you’re not aligned on the front end, you’ll feel it on the back end.
And by then, it’s usually louder than you want it to be.
No. 5 – When “Just Give It Time” Backfires
Drops Thursday, April 16, 2026
Preston Poore
I help leaders lead—without the buzzwords or boring theories. After years in the Fortune 500 world, I’ve seen it all—bad bosses, great teams, and more leadership fails than I can count. Now, I share real stories, practical tips, and the occasional hard-earned lesson to help you lead with confidence. Let’s figure this out together.