I Didn’t Build Teams by Motivating People, I Enabled Them to Think and Perform

I Didn’t Build Teams by Motivating People, I Enabled Them to Think and Perform

Motivation is temporary. It can come from anywhere at any time, a good day, a bonus, a speech, a win at home. And because it’s unpredictable, it’s a terrible foundation for performance. Discipline and consistency, on the other hand, are reliable. They’re what actually create winning cultures.

Leadership has become obsessed with motivation. We cheer louder, rally harder, and hope energy fills the gaps that structure should have addressed. Motivation is emotional sugar; it works fast and fades just as quickly. If motivation worked on its own, most teams wouldn’t need it repeatedly.

Early in my career, I thought motivation was the job. I started installing alone, and as we grew, I trained every new installer myself. I told people exactly how to work, exactly what to do, and tried to bring energy to every install, every day, every month. It worked, until it didn’t. Growth made that model impossible to sustain.

The shift came when one of the installers I had trained, Zach, asked a simple question:

“Do I have to train new guys exactly the way you trained me?”

My instinct was to say yes. But instead, for some reason, I said no.

“I just need the same end result. The job needs to be safe, and the customer needs to be satisfied.”

He looked at me and said, “I can do that.”

That moment changed everything. I stopped trying to motivate outcomes and started enabling them. I checked in, asked questions, and focused on removing friction instead of controlling behavior. That’s when culture stopped being something I talked about�"and started being something the team built themselves.

Enablement Is a System, Not a Speech

High performing teams don’t need constant motivation. They need clarity, autonomy, and trust. Enablement isn’t something you announce in a meeting; it’s something you design into the way work actually gets done.

Some of the strongest teams I’ve ever been around weren’t the ones waiting for direction. They were the ones being relied on. Our office staff was a perfect example. They were smart, oftentimes smarter than I was, and instead of telling them how to solve problems, I started bringing them situations and asking a simple question:

“How would you get this done?”

At first, the challenges felt daunting. But every time I used their ideas, and implemented them immediately, something changed. They felt heard. They felt trusted. And they started leaning into problems instead of avoiding them. Each new situation was met with more confidence than the last.

Over time, my role shifted. Instead of offering solutions, I provided a clear picture of the outcome we needed and stepped back. I stopped suggesting ideas intentionally. As the owner, I didn’t want my thinking or ideas to influence theirs or push them toward what they thought I wanted to hear. I wanted their best thinking, not compliance.

What surprised me was how energizing problems became for the team. Issues weren’t interruptions; they were opportunities to solve something meaningful. And almost without exception, the solutions they developed were better than anything I would have come up with on my own.

This approach wasn’t limited to the office. We applied the same principles to installers and sales teams, clear expectations, freedom in execution, and ownership of outcomes. Different roles, same system, same result. When people designed the process, they followed it. When they owned the outcome, they owned the work.

Enablement works because it replaces micromanagement with responsibility. Guardrails instead of scripts. Vision instead of instructions. Motivation may light the spark, but systems like this are what keep performance steady when the spark fades.

Discipline That Creates Thinkers, Not Fear

Most discipline systems are designed to punish mistakes quickly. The intent is control. The outcome is usually fear. And fear, while effective in the short term, is a terrible teacher.

I learned early in my career that discipline works best when it creates reflection, not compliance.

That lesson started when I was working in a corporate environment dealing with a clear disciplinary issue. Instead of choosing the punishment myself, I asked the employee to go home and think about what he believed the discipline should be. We agreed to talk the next day.

When he came back, I was stunned. The consequence he proposed was far more severe than anything I would have imposed. He suggested suspending himself and adding corrective steps of his own. He had thought deeply about the impact of his actions.

I listened, then told him what I believed was appropriate. It was significantly less severe. No suspension. No loss of pay. Just accountability and a clear path forward.

His reaction surprised me. He was relieved. Grateful. And deeply invested in earning back trust that, in reality, he had never fully lost. That moment stuck with me, not because of the discipline, but because of what it revealed. When people are allowed to reflect, they often hold themselves to a higher standard than any policy ever would.

Years later, as a business owner, I saw the same principle play out again. An employee accidentally backed my new truck into a pole, causing serious damage. He was convinced he was going to be fired, so much so that he started saying goodbye to people in the office.

When we sat down, I didn’t lecture him. I asked him to get the truck repaired, arrange a replacement vehicle, and keep work moving. Insurance covered the damage. We documented the incident and moved on.

Why punish someone who was clearly remorseful, had a strong track record, and made an honest mistake? Ending a great employee’s career over something unintentional doesn’t create accountability; it destroys trust.

He never forgot that response. And he never made another mistake like it.

Discipline isn’t about proving authority. It’s about developing judgment. Adults don’t need to be managed. They need to be respected. When you treat people that way, discipline stops being something they fear and starts becoming something that makes them better.

 

Psychological Safety Is a Performance Tool

People don’t perform better when they’re comfortable. They perform better when they’re safe to think. Psychological safety isn’t about protecting feelings; it’s about removing fear so judgment can function.

I saw this clearly when one of our sales managers started missing quota. His behavior changed before his numbers did. He was tense, guarded, and visibly nervous around me. He knew the numbers. I knew the numbers. And he was convinced that falling short meant he was going to be replaced.

Instead of addressing performance first, I addressed the environment.

I asked him what was going on and pushed past surface-level answers. Eventually, he said it plainly: his numbers were bad, he felt awful, and he was afraid his job was on the line.

My response wasn’t reassurance or criticism. It was simple:

“What can I do to help?”

He didn’t know how to answer.

So we changed the frame. I had him join me in the conference room, and we took a list of older leads, people who had shown interest at some point, and turned that list into a game. We competed to see who could set the first appointment. No hierarchy. No pressure. Just competition.

The tension disappeared immediately. After we both made six or so frantic calls to see who could win, he set the first appointment. He won. I congratulated him and then bought him lunch.

Did that fix the month’s numbers? No, not even close. But it restored confidence. And once fear left the room, performance followed. He never wanted to be in that position again, and he wasn’t.

Psychological safety isn’t softness. It’s efficiency. When fear leaves the room, performance almost always shows up.

Communication as a Design Choice

What leaders share, and when they share it, shapes culture more than any policy ever could. Communication isn’t just information transfer. It’s a design choice.

I began holding quarterly all hands meetings with the entire company. We met in the warehouse. I shared revenue growth, trends, and customer reviews, especially those that called out specific people by name. Wins were public, specific, and celebrated.

The format never changed. Predictability builds trust.

At the end of every meeting, I asked two questions:

What can we do better?

What do you need to do your job better?

Tools, equipment, systems, whatever surfaced, I documented and acted on quickly. The message was clear: if you help the company grow, the company will help you perform.

Just as intentionally, I didn’t bring anxiety into the room. The pressure stayed with me. Their job was to perform with confidence. My job was to protect the environment that made that possible.

The result was immediate. Confidence grew. Pride increased. People didn’t just hear we were growing, they saw it. Quarter after quarter.

Culture Isn’t Bought, It’s Built Intentionally

Culture doesn’t come from slogans. It comes from repeated signals, especially the unexpected ones.

One of the clearest signals I ever sent came from a personal failure. I missed Halloween with my kids because of work. That was the last time that happened.

From that point on, if someone wanted to take their kids trick-or-treating, they went. No job stood in the way. Make up the hours later. Figure it out.

Super Bowl Monday was optional. Work half a day or take it off. Spend time with family. We’ll make it work.

Our Christmas parties were intentional. Open buffets. DJs. Professional photographers. Bring your spouse. I thanked spouses personally for their flexibility. Long hours don’t happen in isolation, and acknowledging that matters.

Sometimes culture showed up quietly. When an employee was about to be deployed, we told him we’d have cake on his last day. What he didn’t know was that his mother would be there, and that he wouldn’t be working that day. He spent it with her. Fully paid.

Those decisions weren’t expensive. But they paid dividends in loyalty, pride, and trust.

Culture isn’t bought with perks. It’s built through consistent choices. And when leaders design those choices intentionally, culture becomes an operational investment, not a line item.

The Result: Teams That Perform Without Needing You

The goal of leadership isn’t dependence. It’s independence.

I remember the first time I missed a morning meeting. I was on a short family vacation, my first one since starting this company. We were headed to the beach to watch the sunrise. Out of habit, I called the office and asked to be put on speakerphone.

They told me no.

I was reminded, firmly, that I was on vacation and needed to focus on my family. It was liberating and terrifying at the same time.

From there, more people stepped up. Leaders emerged organically. Problems were solved without escalation. Performance continued, even when I wasn’t present.

What surprised me most was when the team started policing itself. They raised hiring standards. They protected the brand. They wouldn’t accept mediocrity.

I had always said nothing was more important than our logo, not me, not any one person. At some point, I realized I didn’t have to say it anymore. The team was living it.

Watching employees protect what you’ve built is the quiet reward of leadership done right. Not applause. Not recognition.

Just knowing it stands without you.