That’s the trap. Most CEOs don’t drown in lack of time… they drown in scattered effort disguised as productivity. The surface looks busy. The calendar looks full.

Those first weeks of being a CEO are filled with meetings, sessions, and shared meals. And then, quietly, the novelty fades. The same faces that once looked at you with curiosity now see you as familiar.

I’m talking about improving your internal culture... the presence you bring into every room. The standards, habits, and honesty you model before anyone else does. The thing no one will say out loud, but everyone can sense.

Time isn’t endless. The older you get, the clearer it becomes: you don’t actually have forever to make your mark. You have more to give. More to do. Yet fewer years to etch your name into history.

It happens quietly, by doing what’s familiar, what’s safe, what’s known. You can see it. Processes increase. Meetings multiply. Bureaucracy takes over.

Somewhere along the way, many CEOs forget that. They start believing their time belongs to everyone else. Slicing their calendar into tiny increments...

Everyone expecting a piece of your attention. It seems necessary. And then you notice it. You’re busy, but not strategic. You’re making decisions, but not thinking deeply.

There’s a point in leadership you work so hard to reach. But when you arrive, something unusual happens. People stop telling you the truth. Telling the truth to a CEO is, well… risky.

It can create a sense of it all being.... Unstable. It’s lonely at the top because you’re no longer relatable. You’re immensely visible, and yet, somehow invisible.

For a moment, it feels as though the organization itself leans in, watching, waiting, believing. And yet, unbeknownst to most, you carry something far subtler than authority alone: showmanship.