Name the Real Goal
We start with what you actually want rather than what sounds good out loud, and name the things quietly blocking it, so you know what finished looks like before we plan a single step.
We start with what you actually want rather than what sounds good out loud, and name the things quietly blocking it, so you know what finished looks like before we plan a single step.
Then we turn that goal into a plan you can run: a handful of milestones, the weekly actions sitting under them, and a clear sense of what to drop first when a week goes sideways.
Every Tuesday we meet for an hour, go through what got done and what didn't, and count the small wins out loud until confidence stops being a performance.
At the end we go back through all of it: what held, what did not, and why. You leave with a plan you can run without me and a way to review it yourself every quarter.
Same hour, same method, three different starting points. Pick the one that matches what is costing you sleep.
Small rules you keep on a bad week, so judgement stops swinging with mood.
Work out what the next job actually is, then make the case for it.
Decide what your evenings are for, and stop apologising for it.
Different jobs, different knots. What repeats is the method: name it, size it, work it weekly, and count what actually moved.
“By week six I was hitting 91% of my targets and had stopped rewriting every brief.”
Ingrid approved nothing on the first pass, and her team's campaigns drifted for weeks.
Habits That Hold did it: one decision rule, a hard cut-off, and nothing sat in the queue twice.
“Eight weeks of this and I was hitting 88% of the numbers I'd been ducking for years.”
Dmitri ran a strong team for four years and still got passed over at every promotion round.
The Next Move: we rebuilt how he pitched a decision. Promoted in eight weeks.
“Seven weeks and I'm at 93% on the boundaries I set. My evenings are mine again.”
Aiko answered messages until midnight, and by Thursday every decision felt like a coin toss.
Evenings Back gave her a shut-down routine she actually keeps. Seven weeks, her focus returned.
The things people email me before booking — money, timing, what I actually do — written out so you don't have to ask.
Six to eight weeks is the usual mark. By then the goal has moved, the week has a shape, and you can name what you did to get there.
Usually around week four, when the calendar changes. Colleagues tend to comment on the shorter decisions long before anyone mentions the mood.
Both, usually. The three programmes overlap on purpose — a promotion you can't enjoy and a week you can't survive are one problem.
Bring last week's notes, the one decision you keep postponing, and an honest answer about what you actually did. Leave the performance at home.
Tell me twenty-four hours ahead and we simply find another slot — no charge, no awkwardness. Inside that, the hour is spent.
Nothing waits. A short email thread runs all week, and if something really can't hold until the next call, you have my number.