The Cynicism Was Earned
I remember one of my former employers, a long time ago, initiating a big strategy rollout. The reaction around the block? Cringe.
We’d see a shiny new initiative with an ambitious, gradiose name nearly every quarter—think Elon Musk launching his first voyage to Mars, trumpets, drumroll, and all. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought the title Operation Freedom was invented right there in our own boardroom.
These initiatives were predominantly led by one individual or another who seemed to have no real grip on strategy, beyond slipping it casually into a sentence like, “I’ve devised a strategy to avoid the Swedish meatballs my wife cooked tonight.” But hey, they were polished, had perfect enunciation—rounding their vowels, exaggerating their Rs—and always seemed to carry a sturdy Viking or Saxon name. Yet when it came to their financial contribution to the commercial side of the business, there was barely a dime.
(You don’t need to sell me on the idea that it shouldn’t all be about the numbers, but if you say that’s what matters, then your favorites should at least be fluent in that language.)
It appeared that facts often seemed to matter only if they came from the right mouths. Even top performers struggled to earn a seat at the table, if a table ever existed. It felt more like a table set for one, with most others stuck sitting on the floor.
Death By A Thousand Disappointments
Becoming cynical didn’t happen overnight, it was death by a thousand disappointments. Take the EVP of IT, recruited after a chance meeting in a bar. His previous gig? Cab driver. Giving someone down on their luck a chance is commendable, but perhaps it would have been wiser to test him in a smaller role first, before handing him the keys to your entire global IT function, deciding million-dollar tech budgets or your next acquisition? Fired a year later! Can you really blame people for turning cynical?
And then it got worse. One of the final straws came when a husband-and-wife consulting firm was brought in to coach senior leaders on “doing things the right way” and evaluate who was suitable for more senior leadership roles. Ironically, their firm’s name literally included the word “Saxon,” yet as far as I was aware, neither had ever held a role in any corporation, large or small.
Reality was funnier than fiction but, at the time, none of us were laughing. We genuinely loved our company and the brilliant, hardworking people who made it great. It was deeply sad for all of us to watch what felt like our company caught in a downward spiral. The toll wasn’t just professional; it deeply affected some people’s lives.
A Company in Decline
I remember picking up Jim Collins’ How the Mighty Fall around that time, my copy is heavily highlighted in yellow. It felt like our story:
Stage 1: Hubris Born of Success
“Great enterprises can become insulated by success; accumulated momentum can carry an enterprise forward, for a while, even if its leaders make poor decisions or lose discipline. Stage 1 kicks in when people become arrogant, regarding success virtually as an entitlement, and they lose sight of the true underlying factors that created success in the first place.”
Flashback to a company-wide conference where we proudly, and publicly, declared ourselves something along the lines of “recession-proof,” just as our profits surged during very difficult economic times. Those words now ring painfully in my ears. Collins continued:
Stage 2: Undisciplined Pursuit of More
“Companies in Stage 2 stray from the disciplined creativity that led them to greatness, making undisciplined leaps into areas where they can’t excel or pursuing growth beyond what they can sustain with excellence. Leaders become obsessed with growth for growth’s sake, failing to fill key seats with the right people.”
Stage 3: Denial of Risk and Peril
“As companies move into Stage 3, internal warning signs begin to mount, yet external results remain strong enough to ‘explain away’ disturbing data or to suggest that the difficulties are ‘temporary,’ ‘cyclic,’ ‘not that bad,’ and ‘nothing is fundamentally wrong.’ Leaders discount negative data, amplify positive data, and spin ambiguous data positively. Those in power start to blame external factors for setbacks rather than accept responsibility. The vigorous, fact-based dialogue that characterizes high-performance teams dwindles or disappears altogether. When those in power begin to imperil the enterprise by taking outsized risks and acting in a way that denies the consequences of those risks, they are headed straight for Stage 4.”
Stage 4: Grasping for Salvation
“The cumulative peril and risks-gone-bad of Stage 3 assert themselves, throwing the enterprise into a sharp decline visible to all. The critical question becomes, how does leadership respond? By lurching for quick salvation or by returning to the disciplined creativity that brought greatness in the first place? Those who grasp for salvation fall into Stage 4. Common ‘saviors’ include a charismatic visionary leader, a bold but untested strategy, a radical transformation, a dramatic cultural revolution, a hoped-for blockbuster product, a ‘game-changing’ acquisition, or other silver-bullet solutions. Initial results from dramatic actions may appear positive, but they never last.”
Stage 5: Capitulation to Irrelevance or Death
“The longer a company remains in Stage 4, repeatedly grasping for silver bullets, the more likely it spirals downward. In Stage 5, accumulated setbacks and expensive false starts erode financial strength and individual spirit until leaders abandon all hope of building a great future. In some cases, they sell out; in others, the institution atrophies into insignificance; and in the most extreme cases, the enterprise simply dies outright.”
I had to include these passages here, and I sincerely hope every leader guards their beautiful company from demise by reading the signs early on. Don’t dismiss what your people tell you—often, it comes from genuine love and concern.
Not All Resistance Is the Same
I offered this example to clarify upfront, that not all resistance is the same. Some of it is thoughtful, earned, and a shield rather than a weapon. In organizations where change has been erratic, performative, or self-serving, skepticism isn’t sabotage, it’s survival. Besides, not all change is progress.
But that’s not the pattern we’re exploring here.
The Organizational Sniper appears in a very different kind of workplace: when an organization genuinely tries to evolve, where change initiatives are thoughtful, intelligent, measured and meaningful. Where leadership is doing the work, promises are generally kept, and progress, though imperfect, is real. And yet, even in those environments, you sometimes see a different pattern emerge:
Someone who redirects the conversation, chips away at clarity, or slows momentum through sideways resistance.
It’s subtle. And often, it hides behind plausible deniability.
Quieter. Slower. More indirect.
The Organizational Sniper
This article is based on a video I created inspired by a familiar workplace scenario.
Organizational snipers don’t challenge ideas directly. Instead, they smile in meetings, nod along, and then attempt to dismantle progress through side comments, whispered doubts, and passive resistance.
Although I used the title The Organizational Sniper, let me be clear: This isn’t a character judgment, a label for a person or a condemnation. It’s a description of a pattern, a cluster of behaviors that can arise in response to change. And not all resistance is sniper behavior. Some initiatives are truly tone-deaf, poorly executed, or laden with glossy but empty slogans. Many people become skeptical for good reason—after enduring cycles of change for its own sake, empty promises, uneven leadership, or misaligned incentives. I’ve seen that firsthand, and I carry those war stories with me. Hence, it’s important to make that distinction.
It Looks Like Cooperation, But It Isn’t
An old friend of mine was leading the rollout of a company-wide initiative. On the surface, things were progressing. Teams were collaborating, information was flowing, and one manager even offered detailed input on operational execution. But the moment accountability entered the room, when auditing compliance was mentioned, everything shifted.
“No one’s going to implement these,” The same manager said in a one-on-one meeting.
“You’re wasting your time. Everyone hates this.”
When reminded that these were the same procedures his team had previously claimed to follow, he responded: “Don’t waste your breath. You’re just adding to our workload. We’re already swamped.”
What looks like cooperation can be a delay tactic. It’s not about moving the initiative forward; it’s about avoiding being seen as the one holding it back. So, they nod in the meetings, agree in principle… and quietly undermine the process in ways that are harder to call out. A kind of behavior that’s difficult to confront directly.
When Feedback Gets Personal
As the process moved forward, the resistance shifted from the work to the person leading it. Instead of focusing on fine-tuning schedules, refining training plans for their teams, or addressing valid questions, some team members began redirecting their frustration toward the Project Lead.
“It’s not even about the work anymore,” The Lead expressed in frustration. “Now it feels like they’re making me the problem.”
When the discomfort of change can’t find a safe outlet, it looks for a target. Often, that target can shift to someone visible enough to be associated with the effort, yet not powerful enough to deflect criticism. Soon, personalized comments begin to circulate about the Initiative Lead:
- “He’s difficult to work with.”
- “He’s too pushy.”
- “Everything gets complicated when he’s involved.”
Not because the indivdiual leading the initiative was wrong or had not done enough team breakout sessions for buy-in—so much so that they’re coming out of his ears, not because he was dismissive or didn’t listen to feedback and incorporate it in the program design. He was, by all accounts, knowledgeable, reliable, and open. But he became the embodiment of accountability, of follow-through, of expectations that suddenly felt heavier on the people who wanted everything to remain the same.
Sometimes a process is flawed, and sometimes a roll-out is poorly communicated. And sometimes, yes, a change agent might lack tact or timing. But this wasn’t that. This was something else.
Redirected Blame, Rewritten Narratives
That’s the essence of what I refer to as Organizational Sniper tactics, It’s not disagreement or the resistence, it’s the way some individuals choose to go about it and the story that gets quietly rewritten from “this is difficult” to “he’s making this difficult.”
So, the challenge is not to suppress the discomfort but to surface it, reframe it, and redirect it before it quietly turns progress into paralysis.
The Courage to Name It
This isn’t about calling people out. It’s about reflecting on the quiet undercurrent of negative resistance and unproductive side discussions, especially when it hides behind agreement. It’s about noticing the difference between healthy skepticism and quiet erosion. Because progress doesn’t just depend on vision. It depends on the courage to hold the conversation where it belongs—in the meeting room, not the hallway.
So, if you’re leading change right now, and the work is more complex than it should be, pause for a moment, look at what’s being said and how the story around the work is evolving. And if you sense it’s being rewritten… bring it back into the light – The sun is a natural disinfectant.
Resistance is normal. But left unspoken, it becomes something else. And once it takes root in whispers, even the best ideas struggle to survive.
If this resonated, I invite you to watch the video I created on this topic. In it, I discuss some of these patterns and offer a few strategies for responding with clarity and steadiness.
I also created a short that captures this pattern in action. It’s dramatic (okay, a little thriller-inspired), but true to the experience.
👉🏼 Watch the short version here.
I’d love to hear your thoughts. Your stories. Your questions.
Because chances are, you’ve met the sniper too.
And you’re not alone.
