For years, I prided myself on being a multitasking leader.
Emails in meetings? Easy.
Approving purchase orders while listening to a project update? Done.
Reviewing client work while half-listening to a conference speaker? No problem.
And I was good at it. Too good.
That was the trap. The better I got at juggling, the more seductive it became. I could get through more, faster. Keep the plates spinning. Hit the targets. On paper, I looked like a highly efficient leader.
But efficiency isn’t the same as impact.
The real cost of multitasking wasn’t missed tasks. It was missed depth. Missed connections. Missed trust. And I didn’t even see it.
Until one of my most senior leaders handed me her resignation.
I had no idea it was coming. None.
It hit me like a punch to the gut. I thought she was thriving. I thought she knew how much I valued her. But the truth was, I hadn’t really been listening. Not in the way that mattered.
I blocked off an entire day to meet with her. No interruptions, no emails, no multitasking. Just me and her, fully present.
For the first time in a long time, I asked the real questions:
How are you really feeling?
What’s happening in your life right now?
What are your ambitions, and how can we support them here?
The answers were raw, honest, and painful. She’d felt unseen. She’d been carrying doubts I’d missed. She wanted growth I hadn’t made space for.
Luckily, that day changed her decision. But it also changed me.
I realised multitasking hadn’t just cheated her. It had cheated me too. I’d almost lost a great leader because I was too busy being “efficient” to notice what mattered most.
That was my aha moment.
From then on, I made presence my practice. I worked hard to rewire myself: to listen deeply, to stop splitting attention, to give people the full weight of my focus. It took discipline and unlearning, but the payoff was huge. Stronger relationships. Deeper trust. Better decisions.
And it’s why, in my coaching now, I challenge leaders who pride themselves on being great jugglers. Because multitasking can feel productive, but often, it’s just shallow.
Real leadership happens in focus, in presence, in the quiet moments when someone finally feels heard.
Because people don’t remember how many tasks you got done.
They remember how you made them feel.