“The Danger of Telling Your Whole Vision… (Yes, That’s Also a Thing)”
Why sometimes sharing your five-year plan too soon can make your team run screaming for the hills.
Ever had that moment where you say, “Guys, I have a brilliant plan—give me two years, and we’ll be the next Amazon!” and the entire team stares blankly, then quietly begins drafting their letters of resignation?
Welcome to the Founder’s Overshare Paradox.
One minute, you’re excitedly revealing your grand scheme to revolutionize an industry; the next, half your staff looks like deer in headlights, and the board is offering you decaf. Been there. More than once, in fact.
1. When the “Grand Scheme” Got in the Way
Exhibit A: When nineteen-year-old me wanted to start a disaster recovery empire.
When I was 18, bright-eyed and working as a computer operator at a credit union, I casually announced my future plan:
“Someday, I’ll build a disaster recovery company so good, we’ll dethrone the industry giant.”
My boss (the IT manager) just blinked, chuckled, and said, “Right… maybe finish your shift first.”
It was a classic example of me oversharing my five-year plan—in a context that just made people question my sanity. (To be fair, I was literally a teenager in a data center. I’d probably have laughed at me, too.)
Exhibit B: Merger idea vs. the board’s actual mission,
Fast-forward a few jobs. We had a big idea: merge two other credit unions into ours, rebrand ourselves as the largest CU in the second wealthiest county in Maryland. Sounds glorious, right?
Except our board absolutely hated the idea. Their unspoken (but pretty obvious) priority was serving the original membership in deeper, more personalized ways.
Here I was sharing a secret dream of a “regional powerhouse,” ignoring that the board’s vision was more “niche mastery.”
You can probably see how far that idea got. If merging and growing were positioned naturally as part of the course of their vision, maybe we would have had a chance. As it was, the whole plan got shot down early. Hard to persuade an entrenched board with a pitch like, “We need new everything!”
Exhibit C: The Ongoing Operations pivot fiasco.
When I finally started Ongoing Operations, it was all about delivering disaster recovery. But I had an even bigger mission in mind: to completely revolutionize credit union IT.
That meant buying a cloud company in 2010, which, let’s be real, was not a trivial pivot. Sure, many investors hopped on board, but some absolutely didn’t. “We invested in a DR firm, not an ‘all-in-one credit union IT overlord!’” was the gist.
Since I hadn’t spelled out that giant step from the get-go, I spent the next 6–7 years trying to realign investors who never signed on for the bigger dream. If we’d added the IT part bit by bit, maybe we would have gotten more buy-in. Instead, there was friction, heartburn, and me awkwardly explaining, “Yes, we do DR. Also, let’s conquer the entire infrastructure domain!”
Exhibit D: CU Wallet and the payments-dominance pitch.
Then came the CU Wallet project, where I envisioned credit unions collectively leveling up to have the best mobile payment platform in the industry. It was a big vision.
Certain key partners thought, “He’s… joking, right?”
We needed them to do seemingly insane stuff with underutilized tech. Their immediate response was basically, “That’s adorable.” Sometimes you overshare the grand slam play, and your collaborators can’t see it—so they bail or slow-walk the entire initiative.
The Pattern
Every time I shared the entire monstrous vision—like the complete picture of the secret mission—some folks got excited, and others practically ran for cover. Ultimately, I learned that blurting out your 20-year plan while the team can barely handle next month’s budget is, shall we say, not optimal.
2. Fear of Being Judged: The Epic Internal Monologue
Half the time, we keep missions secret because we’re terrified of the, “Are you insane?!” reaction. I’ve had moments thinking, “If I reveal my full plan, maybe they’ll copy it and launch their own rocket-churro empire… or just quit.”
What else stops a perfectly good grand scheme?
Self-doubt and imposter syndrome: “Who am I to claim we’ll lead an entire market?”
Practical panic: “My staff is barely surviving phone support. How can I even mention we want to build a global data infrastructure?!”
Sometimes, you’re so busy quietly weaving puzzle pieces together that you don’t fully realize you’re aiming at a bigger mission. Then, at 2 a.m., you bolt upright in bed, whispering, “Wait, am I nuts to want all this?”
When you do finally share it out loud, the fear is real:
Will they mock me?
Will they freak out and bail?
Will they brand me as “that starry-eyed dreamer” who can’t handle reality?
Unfortunately, sometimes yes—some folks can’t handle the scope. And that’s where you have to figure out the right approach and timing.
3. Finding the (Ever-Elusive) Balance
So, do you keep it hidden until your staff accidentally stumbles onto your 57-page vision board? Or do you blow them away on day one with, “Let’s conquer Earth?”
The truth: it’s an iterative skill to figure out how much of your grand scheme to drop and when.
Check your audience’s stress level.
If your team is already underwater with day-to-day crises, maybe hold off on telling them you want to build the Tesla of credit unions. They’ll interpret it as “More work?!” and freeze. Instead, drip-feed the vision in digestible steps.
Involve people early—but not too early.
If your plan is half-baked, maybe get a small, trusted group to test the waters first. See if your mission resonates before announcing it in an all-hands meeting. Because if you say, “We’re pivoting from baking cupcakes to launching satellites,” you better have a decent blueprint.
Own the paradox.
Sometimes you speak it aloud and realize, “Wow, this is indeed insane.” Other times, it galvanizes everyone, and they rush to help. The difference often depends on timing, context, and how many pain points your current operation already has.
When “Secret Missions” Collide with Resource Constraints
In a strapped, high-stress environment, employees can’t always fathom a grand new direction. They’re still stuck on, “But we have zero budget for those special $20k tape drives!”
(Looking at you, Rapid Recovery fiasco!)
Telling them the full futuristic dream might actually sabotage morale. They’re like, “We can’t even answer phones—how do you expect us to create an AI-driven unstoppable payment platform?” So, in turnaround or crisis mode, huge reveals can do more harm than good.
The Big Takeaway
Oversharing your entire mission can backfire just as badly as never sharing it at all. It’s a delicate dance:
Too little, and nobody knows where you’re headed (cue confusion).
Too much, and they might label you as a delusional megalomaniac—and get terrified of the extra workload. There’s no perfect formula. But remember:
Check the temperature: If your environment is stable, people may be ready for your ambitious blueprint.
Stage the reveal: Start with essential stakeholders, test buy-in, then expand.
Refine on the fly: If you say it and realize it’s bananas, that’s okay—better to discover that early.
In the end, you want a team that’s excited (not petrified) about your big dream. So share thoughtfully, gather feedback, and if it starts a meltdown, maybe scale back the scope.
Or, you know, bring donuts and coffee to soften the blow. Always helps.
Next up:
We’ll dig into how to spot that you have a “secret mission,” so you don’t wait until you’re knee-deep in meltdown territory. Because guess what? Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt—it’s also a founder’s favorite pastime.
Shape
Disruption with a side of humor—Kirk Drake
