The Anchor Chain

I was a small kid.  Around 5 feet tall and barely 100 lbs as I was entering middle school. 

Yet being small wasn’t an option for the work and chores I was responsible for.  Often, I was carrying buckets full of grain, nearly half my body weight.

I would carry, scoot, pull, or push bales of hay the same size as me.

What I didn't have in size, I made up for in effort or ingenuity. I got smarter and figured out ways to accomplish tasks with what I did have.  All attributes honed at a young age made up for whatever I didn't have biologically.

Effort, drive, and movement were a way of life rather than tools to implement right now.

If I worked harder and faster, then there might be time to do other things; ride my bike, shoot baskets, or even sit and rest!

It was all a survival mechanism. 

Work ethic is an attribute applauded by societies, organizations, and cultures everywhere. Rightly so, actually doing the work is what separates.

However, just working harder doesn't actually solve problems.  In many cases and countless situations, that exact mindset cost me more than the effort it took to deliver.

One summer during college, I was working on a farm in Western NY.  On one given day, my job was to haul round bales of straw from the field to the various barns the farm used to house cattle throughout the area.

The trailer I was using could comfortably haul 8 bales, 4 on each side.

However, I figured out how to load 16 bales onto the trailer.  Twice the number of bales, half the number of trips.  Or, as I saw it, the more I could get in one day, the faster I could get the job done.

What I didn't consider was that, even though I could make the bales “fit” on the trailer, the truck I used to pull it or the trailer itself might not be built to handle the extra weight.

What took me half the time resulted in a broken frame and axle on the trailer and a burnt-up transmission in the truck.

What I saved in time was lost in a much bigger and more costly way.

The Things We Hide - Moment

I know what it’s like to be rowing with the anchor still attached to the boat.

Growing up, I effectively learned one operating principle above all: work harder. Something’s not working? Put more hours in. Falling behind? Get up earlier. Struggling? That just means you’re not trying hard enough.

I carried that into my career like a badge of honor. If the results weren’t there, the answer was always the same: more effort, more hours, more grit.

What I hid — even from myself — was that the harder I worked, the less I actually led.

I was so busy being operational that I never got to be strategic with others. I was so committed to doing everything that I never stopped to ask whether I was doing the right thing for the people I worked with and for. 

I had it figured all out and so down with my head and push I would go.

What helped me survive was now killing me, my relationships, and my business.

I was the village fisherman Jimmy described in our podcast conversation — the one who gets up before everybody else, goes out and catches the fish. When they come back empty-handed, everybody goes hungry.

Here’s what I didn’t want to face: working harder felt safe. If I were busy, I didn’t have to sit with the discomfort of asking for help, admitting I was drowning, or acknowledging that effort alone wasn’t enough.

People would value you for the work I accomplished, the effort I put in, or the results I delivered.

This worked until the results didn't show up, or the results weren't enough to mask and overwhelm my intense style.

Jimmy said something that hit me square in the chest: “It’s really hard to have a grown-up conversation with somebody who’s drowning.”

I was drowning. And because I was drowning, I couldn’t see the anchor chain. I just kept rowing.

The thing we hide isn’t laziness or lack of skill. It’s the belief that working harder is the only answer we have. That if we stop, even for a moment, we’ll be exposed as not enough.

But the only way to stop the hamster wheel is to get off the hamster wheel. And the only way to cut the anchor chain is first to admit it’s there.

Podcast

Jimmy Burroughes is a former British military officer who served in some of the world's most demanding operational environments, including Afghanistan. After burning out as a GM running an eight-figure business in New Zealand, he dedicated himself to solving the problem that nearly broke him: organizational friction that grinds good leaders down.

Through his firm, JBL High Performance, Jimmy works with senior leaders at the manager-of-manager level — the engine room of organizations — using military-tested playbooks to create clarity, build systems, and scale impact. His approach isn’t about teaching people to work harder. It’s about finding the hidden factory inside every organization: the untapped capacity that’s already there, buried under friction no one has addressed.

Here are three key focus points from my conversation with Jimmy that we all need to sit with:

1. The Belief Gap Is Bigger Than the Skill Gap

Most leadership programs fail because they teach skills rather than beliefs. Jimmy made this crystal clear: leaders have been through courageous conversation training, delegation workshops, and strategic planning sessions. They know what good leadership looks like. They can list it on a flip chart. But they’re not doing it. Why? Because underneath the skill is a belief that says, “If I have that conversation, it’ll create more work. If I delegate, it won’t get done right. If I stop doing, I’ll lose my value.” Until we address the beliefs that sit below the skills, the skills never get executed. The shift isn’t more training. It’s an honest examination of what we actually believe about leadership and why we’re avoiding the good practices we already know.

2. Twenty-Five Years of Underinvestment Created Today’s Crisis

We’re living in the consequences of a generation of leadership neglect. When times got tight, leadership programs were the first to be cut. Mid-level managers were removed. The gap between doers and leaders widened. The best doers got promoted into management roles and kept doing, because that’s what made them successful. Now we’re 25 years into a cycle where the example at the top of organizations is a bunch of doers whose only solution is to work harder and longer. Add in VUCA — pandemics, tariffs, geopolitical instability — and these leaders aren’t equipped for the challenges in front of them. And there’s no time in the day to step back and think.

3. The Hidden Factory: You Don’t Need More — You Need Less Friction

Jimmy shared a story about an organization in New Zealand planning to build a sixth factory to increase output. Instead, someone asked: What if the extra capacity is already inside our five existing factories? By getting clear on priorities, cutting the tasks that didn’t matter, and addressing the friction between teams, they didn’t just find one hidden factory — they found three. The answer wasn’t more investment or more headcount. It was alignment and clarity. The same principle applies to every organization and every leader: stop asking people to row harder. Find the anchor chain. Cut it. And watch what happens when good people can finally move.

Jimmy’s message is one I wish I had heard twenty-five years ago: the answer is rarely more effort. It’s less friction. And the courage to stop long enough to find it.

The IDL Summit, May 7–8, Spokane

Conversations like the one I had with Jimmy are exactly why we’re building the IDL Summit this May.

The Impact Driven Leader Summit on May 7–8 in Spokane, WA, isn’t a conference where you sit in the back and take notes. It’s 120 leaders in a room, telling the truth — about burnout, friction, insecurity, and what it actually takes to lead from the inside out.

Nikki Barua, Dr. Abbie Maronó, Joe Delagrave, and I will bring four perspectives across two days in one room, where nothing gets hidden.

General Admission is $499. VIP is $1,999 and includes a private dinner with the speakers and a deeper, more personal experience.

Seats are limited to 120. If you’re tired of rowing harder and ready to cut the anchor chain, I’d love to see you there.

Get your tickets: idlsummit.com

Did you catch this podcast? If not, listen to it here.