The Teams Message I Wish I'd Never Sent

If you've been following my blog for a while, you'll know that the end of 2025 and the beginning of 2026 was one of the hardest seasons of my life—both personally and professionally.

Pressure has a funny way of changing us.

Sometimes it reveals the very best in us.

Sometimes it exposes parts of ourselves we thought we'd already outgrown.

This story belongs firmly in the second category.

One of Those Days

It was a warm January day, and I was working from home.

Anyone who's worked remotely knows there can be a hidden danger in being alone.

When you're work in an office, there are natural circuit breakers.

A colleague notices you're frustrated and suggests grabbing a coffee.

Someone cracks a joke.

You walk to another meeting and cool down before saying something you'll regret.

Working from home removes many of those safeguards.

There's no one to stop you from firing off the email too quickly.

No one to quietly suggest, "Maybe sleep on it."

No one to stop you from unleashing the Kraken on Karen.

Or pushing your office chair back with enough force to let everyone within twenty metres know that today was definitely not the day to ask for a favour.

This wasn't mild frustration.

This was five-alarm, hot-under-the-collar frustration.

Looking back, I know there were better options.

Go for a walk.

Draft the message somewhere else.

Phone a trusted friend.

Pray.

Do anything except what I was about to do.

But anger has a remarkable ability to convince us that our next decision is the right one.

The Straw That Broke the Camel's Back

The issue itself wasn't earth-shattering.

It centred around a recruitment decision.

At the time, I was responsible for workforce planning and rostering in a service that operated around the clock.

Anyone who's managed a 24/7 operation knows that one seemingly small change to a roster can ripple through an entire week.

Coverage changes.

Costs increase.

Service levels suffer.

We were in the middle of bringing overnight support back in-house, removing the external provider we'd relied upon for years.

There was no safety net anymore.

Getting these recruitments right wasn't simply preferable.

It was critical.

I'd worked closely with the Hiring Manager and HR to develop the recruitment brief.

The hours weren't a suggestion.

They were the solution.

So when I was told the positions had been filled, my first reaction was excitement.

Until I heard the hours.

They weren't even close to what we'd agreed.

The explanation was simple.

"They're excellent candidates."

"They're a great fit for the organisation."

I didn't disagree.

They probably were.

The problem wasn't the people.

The problem was that we'd solved the wrong problem.

Looking back, I realise I wasn't really angry about the roster anymore.

The roster simply became the place where months of pressure, disappointment and exhaustion finally spilled over.

One Click

I needed somewhere to vent.

So I opened Microsoft Teams.

In my frustration, I thought I was sending a private message to a trusted colleague.

Instead...

I posted it into a group chat.

A group chat with around thirty people.

Many of them frontline staff.

The message wasn't abusive.

It wasn't offensive.

It was something along the lines of:

"I wish people would stop choosing their own adventure when recruiting staff. Now I have to fix the roster for the thirtieth time."

Then I hit Enter.

Almost immediately, I realised where I'd posted it.

I tried deleting it.

Too late.

The read receipts began appearing one after another.

There are moments in leadership where you know you've made a mistake before anyone says a word.

This was one of them.

The Phone Call

Then Teams rang.

It was my boss.

I remember looking at the screen and thinking,

"Fair enough."

In that moment, I still had a choice.

I could answer the call and face the music...

Or I could disappear for a while and hope it all settled down.

I took a breath.

Then I answered.

If our roles had been reversed...

I'd have called too.

What happened next surprised me.

To my boss's credit, her first concern wasn't the Teams message.

It was me.

She could hear something wasn't right.

Before we spoke about the behaviour, she checked in on the person behind it.

How was I really doing?

Was everything okay?

Only after making sure I was okay did we turn our attention to what had happened.

I've never forgotten that.

She understood something every great leader eventually learns.

People are always more important than performance.

The conversation wasn't really about the message.

It was about the audience.

As leaders, we're allowed to be frustrated.

We're allowed to disagree.

We're even allowed to get things wrong.

What we're not free from are the consequences of how we express those emotions.

I'd just demonstrated to thirty people that when things didn't go my way...

This was how a leader responded.

That was the problem.

Making It Right

The following morning, I gathered the people who had received my message.

Not to justify what I'd done.

Not to explain why I'd been frustrated.

Simply to apologise.

They deserved that.

Leadership isn't about pretending you never get it wrong.

It's about taking responsibility when you do.

I acknowledged that my message hadn't reflected the kind of leader I wanted to be, nor the culture I wanted to help create.

Then my boss did something I'll never forget.

She didn't deliver a long speech.

She didn't lecture me in front of everyone.

She simply thanked me for taking the time to reflect and for having the courage to make things right.

That was it.

Just a few simple sentences.

But in those few moments, she did something remarkable.

She corrected my behaviour without diminishing my worth.

And in doing so, she quietly helped restore my credibility with the team.

That may have been one of the greatest leadership lessons I received that year.

Influence Is Fragile

Looking back, I still believe my concerns about the roster were valid.

But being right didn't make me effective.

In fact, my frustration completely overshadowed the issue I was trying to raise.

People rarely remember the point you were making if they remember the way you made it.

That lesson, the one I thought I'd mastered years before, quietly came back to remind me that leadership has a way of humbling us. Just when we think we've mastered it, life has a remarkable ability to make us the student again.

The truth is, growth isn't a straight line.

It's a series of old lessons returning at new levels.

And if we're paying attention, each one leaves us a little wiser than before.

Looking Back

One of the greatest myths in leadership is that good leaders never lose their temper.

I don't believe that's true.

We're human.

We get tired.

We become overwhelmed.

We make mistakes.

The difference isn't whether we experience those emotions.

It's what we do next.

Do we justify them?

Or do we own them?

That Teams message reminded me that influence takes years to build...

...and only moments to damage.

Fortunately, trust can also be rebuilt.

I know that because I experienced it.

It begins with humility.

With apologising.

With taking responsibility.

And sometimes...

It begins because another leader chooses to see the person before the mistake.

My boss modelled that for me that day.

She cared for the person before correcting the behaviour.

It's a lesson I've tried to carry into every leadership and coaching conversation since.

If you've read my previous post, You Never Know Who's Watching, you'll remember a story where I accidentally found myself in front of the CEO and the Board because someone shared a video of me singing to help my team embrace change.

In that story, people were watching my best.

This time...

They saw my worst.

The truth is, leadership is always on display.

Not just when we're inspiring people.

But when we're frustrated.

Disappointed.

Or under pressure.

So let me leave you with one question.

What emotional temperature do people experience after interacting with you?

Do they leave your conversations with greater clarity...

...or greater anxiety?

Do they feel encouraged...

...or unsettled?

Because leadership isn't measured by whether you lose your temper.

It's measured by what people experience when you do.

And perhaps the greatest leadership skill isn't avoiding every mistake.

It's having the humility to repair the moments when you don't...

...and the wisdom to become the kind of leader who, like my boss did for me that day, sees the person before the behaviour and believes that one mistake should never be the final chapter in someone's leadership story.

I'm grateful that God often teaches us through our failures, but just as often through the grace He shows us through other people.