Let me tell you about someone I managed in my very early days of management who was brilliant. Clients loved them and the quality of work was genuinely good. They were super dedicated to learning and improvement.
But watching how they got there made me want to tear my hair out – literally, for those of you who know me!
They’d regularly work until 2am, even on projects that weren’t urgent. They ignored our project management system entirely, keeping everything in their head or in random notebooks. They’d redo work three or four times (sometimes the day before a deadline) instead of getting early feedback. Our team templates? Never used them once. They’d start from scratch every single time.
Let’s not even talk about getting them to track their time…
And here’s what made it harder: I couldn’t actually point to a performance problem. The results were there. The clients were happy. Deadlines were met.
Sure, they sometimes clashed with colleagues and occasionally, a client may see some of the chaos. But on the whole, they were excellent.
But it felt wrong to me. Inefficient. Stressful to watch. And I kept thinking “if they’d just do it the way we’ve agreed as a team, this would be so much easier.”
This is one of the most uncomfortable positions you’ll find yourself in as a manager. Someone is delivering results, but their process feels chaotic, inefficient, or unsustainable. Do you intervene? Do you let it go? And if you do step in, aren’t you just micromanaging someone who’s actually performing well?
Today, I want to talk about why this situation bothers you (as it bothered me!) more than it probably should, when their process actually is a problem (even with good results), and the specific conversation you need to have when you decide to act.
Why this bothers you more than it probably should
Before you do anything, you need to understand your own reaction. Because sometimes the problem isn’t their process. It’s your discomfort with a process that isn’t yours.
Your process isn’t the only right process
This was one of the hardest (if not the hardest) parts for me to come to terms with. Just because you wouldn’t do it that way doesn’t make their way wrong. I was much younger at the time and my ego probably played a bigger role in this than it should have.
If you got promoted because of how you did things, you naturally assume your approach is best. It worked for you. It’s what you know. It’s what feels professional and competent.
But I’ve learned (painfully, more than once) that there are multiple ways to get to good work. Some people need detailed planning before they start. Others need to dive in and iterate. Some people work in focused bursts. Others prefer steady, consistent progress.
Some people literally can’t do the work until the deadline is looming…
Your way works for you. Their way works for them. That’s allowed.
The efficiency anxiety
You watch them taking what looks like the long route and your brain automatically calculates wasted time and effort. “If they’d just use the template, this would take half the time.” “If they’d ask for feedback earlier, they wouldn’t need to redo it.”
But here’s the question: Are they actually less efficient, or just differently efficient?
I’ve seen team members pretty much ignore the tools that I’d use for a task and use alternatives that I didn’t like much. Or not even use tools at all!
I was anxious watching it because it wasn’t how I’d learned to do it. But the efficiency concern was in my head, not in reality.
The “I suffered, so should they” trap
Sometimes we want people to go through the learning curve we went through, even when they’ve found a shortcut.
You learned by making certain mistakes. You developed your process through trial and error. There’s a part of you that thinks “this is how you learn properly.”
But that’s not actually true. If someone’s found a way to avoid a mistake you made, that’s good. Your suffering wasn’t a necessary ingredient. It was just what happened to you.
I’ve caught myself doing this. Watching someone skip steps I thought were essential, feeling irritated that they weren’t “paying their dues.” Then realising the only thing bothering me was that they’d figured out something faster than I did.
That’s ego, not management.
And this is even more true now in the age of AI assisted tools that provide many shortcuts and remove many common mistakes automatically. (They can introduce other issues, but that’s another story!)
When their process is actually a problem (even if the results are fine)
Right, so we’ve established that sometimes your discomfort is about you, not them. But let’s be clear: sometimes their process genuinely is a problem. Even when the results are good.
Here’s when you need to pay attention.
Sustainability and burnout risk
If they’re getting results through unsustainable effort, it’s not actually working. It just hasn’t broken yet.
Regular late nights. Working weekends. Visible stress. These aren’t signs of dedication. They’re signs of a process that can’t continue.
I managed someone who delivered excellent work but consistently worked until midnight. For months, the results were great. Then they got ill. Then they were off for two weeks. Then their performance actually did drop because they were exhausted.
I should have stepped in earlier. Not because the work was bad, but because I could see it wasn’t sustainable. Eventually, unsustainable catches up with people. And by then, you’ve got a much bigger problem than the process itself.
If you can see someone heading for burnout, the fact that their work is currently good is irrelevant. Intervene. It can’t last.
Hidden dependencies on others
This is the one that’s hardest to spot. Sometimes great results come from a chaotic process that’s actually dumping invisible work on teammates.
Someone who delivers great client presentations but creates them the night before, requiring the design team to drop everything for “urgent” requests that were actually predictable.
Someone who doesn’t update the project tracker, so the project manager has to chase them constantly for status updates.
Someone who figures things out as they go, which means other people can’t plan their own work because they don’t know what’s coming.
The individual results look good. But the team cost is real.
That’s when an individual’s process becomes a team problem.
The conversation you need to have
If you’ve decided this actually is a problem, you need to have a conversation. But the way you approach it matters enormously. It’s not a simple case of someone underperforming and you need them to fix it. This is a very nuanced conversation.
The wrong conversation: “Here’s how you should do this”
Don’t lead with solutions. Don’t lead with your process. Don’t position yourself as the expert on their work. Don’t lead with things such as:
- “I think you should start using the project tracker.”
- “You need to build in more planning time.”
- “The way you’re approaching this isn’t efficient.”
Even if you’re right about the process, this approach rarely lands well with someone who’s delivering results. It immediately feels like micromanagement. Like you don’t trust them. Like their results somehow don’t count because they didn’t get there your way.
I’ve made this mistake. I once told someone “you need to stop working late and start planning better.” Their response was “but I’m hitting all my deadlines.” And they were right. I was critiquing their method while their outcomes were fine.
It didn’t go well.
The right conversation: “Help me understand your process”
Start with genuine curiosity. Ask them to walk you through how they approach their work.
“I’ve noticed you tend to work on presentations quite late in the process. The results are consistently good, so clearly something’s working. Can you walk me through your thoughts on why you approach it this way?”
This does a few things. First, you might discover their “chaos” is actually more structured than you thought. What looks random from the outside might have internal logic you weren’t seeing.
Second, it gives them space to explain and defend their choices. Maybe they have good reasons. Maybe they’ll hear themselves explain it and realise it doesn’t actually make sense. Maybe they already knew that their process wasn’t sustainable, but felt like they had no other options.
Third, it positions you as interested in understanding, not judging.
Here’s how this might sound:
“I wanted to talk through how you’re approaching the client projects. I’ve noticed you tend to [specific behaviour]. The work itself is great, clients are happy, so something’s clearly working. Help me understand your process. How do you think about structuring your time on these?”
Then listen. Actually listen. You might learn something.
The sustainability question
If your concern is about burnout or long term viability, frame it that way.
“I’ve noticed you’re working quite late fairly regularly. The results are good, but I’m concerned about whether this pace is sustainable for you long term. What do you think?”
This gives them agency. You’re not saying “you’re doing it wrong.” You’re saying “I’m concerned about the long term, and I want your take on it.”
Sometimes they’ll say “honestly, I’ve been thinking the same thing.” Sometimes they’ll say “actually, I prefer working this way, it suits my energy.” Both responses give you useful information.
If it’s about team impact, be specific about that impact.
“I want to talk about timing on design requests. When presentations are created the night before, the design team has to drop other work to support it, which impacts other projects. I need us to figure out how to build in more lead time. What ideas do you have?”
You’re not attacking their process. You’re identifying a specific impact and asking them to help solve it.
When to let it go (even though it bothers you)
Finally, let’s talk about when you need to just let it go. Because sometimes the right answer is to manage your own discomfort, not their process.
The autonomy results deal
If you want people to own their work and feel trusted, you have to accept that ownership includes process.
You can’t demand accountability and dictate methods. You can’t say “I trust you to deliver” and then watch over their shoulder criticising how they get there.
This is the deal you make when you hire good people. They get autonomy over method. You get accountability for results.
If someone is consistently delivering and their process isn’t causing problems for others, your discomfort with their approach isn’t grounds for intervention.
Your discomfort isn’t their problem
If your main issue is “this isn’t how I’d do it” or “this makes me nervous to watch,” but there’s no actual business impact, that’s something for you to manage, not them.
I managed someone who worked in messy sprints. Intensely focused for three or four days, producing loads of work. Then seemingly slower periods where they were thinking, researching, responding to things. It didn’t look like consistent professional output.
But when I actually tracked it, their results over a month were equivalent to team members with steady daily output. It just felt less professional and a little chaotic to watch.
That was my problem, not theirs.
The test: Remove yourself from the equation
Ask yourself: “If I wasn’t watching this, would there be a problem?”
If the answer is no, the problem might be your need for control, not their process.
Would the work still get done? Would it still be good? Would clients still be happy? Would the team still function?
If yes to all of those, then the issue is your visibility and comfort, not their performance.
And that’s not actually a reason to intervene.
One unexpectedly hard part of being a manager isn’t getting people to do great work. It’s learning to be comfortable with great work that doesn’t look like yours.
