Folks often talk about keeping that original spark, that raw idea, alive when you’re trying to build something, right? It’s tough. And it always reminds me of this one person I knew, let’s call her Anna. When she first joined our team, man, she was a breath of fresh air. Full of energy, tons of ideas that were actually good, not just the usual fluff you hear.
She had this project, her baby, something she truly believed would shake things up for the better. We were all a bit skeptical at first, you know how it is. New person, big dreams. But she was persistent, and her enthusiasm? Contagious. She genuinely wanted to make things work, her way, the right way, as she saw it.
Then the meetings started. Oh, the meetings. First, it was about “aligning with company strategy.” Then it was “stakeholder buy-in.” Little by little, bits of her original concept got chipped away. “We need to make it more mainstream, Anna.” “That feature is great, but it’s not in the budget, Anna.” “Have you considered how this integrates with our legacy systems, Anna?” That last one is always the killer, isn’t it? Legacy systems are where good ideas go to die, mostly.
I watched her, week by week. She was smart, so she started to learn how to navigate it all. She learned who to talk to, what to say, how to frame her ideas so they wouldn’t get shot down immediately. She started making compromises. Small ones at first. Then bigger ones. She got good at it. Really good.
And guess what? Her project eventually launched. It was a success, by all the usual metrics. Management loved it. They loved her. She got promoted. She was on the fast track. She learned to play the game, and she was winning. Big time.
But the project? It wasn’t really her baby anymore. It was… something else. Polished, corporate, safe. All the sharp edges, all the truly innovative bits, they were gone. Smoothed over to fit the mold. And Anna? She was a star, a real player. Knew all the right moves.
Sometimes, late at night, after one of those “strategy sessions,” I’d catch a glimpse of the old Anna. A flicker of frustration, maybe. But it would be gone in a flash. She was too busy succeeding. It made me think, you know? That original fire, that passion that was so raw and different… it just got absorbed. She didn’t get crushed by the game; she became a part of it. A very effective part, I’ll give her that.
So yeah, when people ask me about those things, I just nod. Because sometimes, no matter how bright you shine, or how brilliant your idea is, you look up one day and realize… she belong to the game now. And maybe that’s just how it is. A bit sad, but there you have it. That’s what I saw. That’s what I remember.
