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Occam’s Razor is a principle often attributed to 14th–century friar William of Ockham that says that if you have two competing ideas to explain the same phenomenon, you should prefer the simpler one. It was when I was in school for my graduate degree that I first learned about this principle. As a problem-solving principle, it can help us strip away the noise and recognize a core truth. My work is about listening to understand people and two things hold true: humans are complicated and simple at the same time. At our cores, we have similar needs: food, shelter, love, safety, health, meaning—Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs helps us to understand what humans generally need. That is the simple part. The complicated part is that we all have different ways of interpreting and achieving these needs. We have different life experiences, cultures, worldviews, values, beliefs, likes and dislikes—all things that uniquely define how we go about achieving our basic needs, and how we respond when we feel threatened. Occam’s Razor would suggest that if a basic need to is earn a living in order put food on the table and a roof over one’s head, simply showing up for work and collecting a paycheck should meet those needs. But therein lies the complication. Work has shifted as the contract between companies and their people have evolved. According to an article from Forbes, talent, adaptability and engagement define success which means a new world of work demands new leadership and a renewed focus on human potential. While compensation still matters at work, there are other prominent needs for building a thriving workplace.
Stripping away the “noise” in the effort to recognize core truths, can lead us to the simplest answer, as Occam’s Razor suggests. However, to get to the simplest answer, we must understand the complex and complicated parts of human needs. And this takes time, empathy and strong leadership skills. Investing in people means investing in leadership, todays and tomorrows. And that is a core truth. For more information: www.forbes.com/councils/forbestechcouncil/2025/05/08/the-future-of-work-through-occams-razor-its-all-about-people/ 
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... and What We Do Company A claims to be better than Company B, pointing to B’s water pollution from its processing. Company B counters that it is the more responsible organization, highlighting A’s harmful air emissions. Both publicly declare themselves stewards of the community and vital job creators. At the same time, Company A is actively working to put Company B out of business—launching negative ad campaigns and filing lawsuits on behalf of the city. Company B, initially reluctant to engage, now feels compelled to defend itself and has retaliated in kind. What follows is predictable: escalation. Employees at both companies begin to fear for their job security. Communities that once welcomed these organizations start to push back. Regulatory agencies impose heavy fines and issue warnings that could ultimately shut operations down altogether. While fictional, this scenario reflects a familiar pattern. When individuals, organizations, or nations adopt a zero-sum, win-at-all-costs mindset, harm rarely stays contained. It spreads—affecting employees, communities, and often the most vulnerable. Polluted water and toxic air don’t recognize corporate boundaries. Aggressive tactics also come at a cost: they shut down the very conversations that could lead to better outcomes. Without negotiation, there is no space to surface underlying interests, involve experts, or engage the broader community in meaningful solutions. Decisions are made in isolation, often without full awareness of their long-term consequences. There is also a clear contradiction at play. Both companies claim a mission centered on community stewardship, yet their actions undermine that very commitment. Declaring moral superiority while engaging in harmful, adversarial behavior reveals a gap between stated values and actual practice. Regardless of the reasoning behind Company A’s initial actions, the impact remains the same. Efforts to eliminate the other come with significant collateral damage—damage that directly conflicts with the mission both organizations claim to uphold. A different path is possible. Through negotiation, both companies could move beyond positions and begin to understand underlying needs and interests. Fears can be constructively addressed. They could identify shared concerns, explore innovative solutions, and uncover opportunities that adversarial strategies will never reveal. William Ury offers Building them a Golden Bridge. This approach works to build trust and create incentives to keep walking towards you as you negotiate. When the goal shifts from winning to solving, the outcome shifts as well—not just for those at the table, but for everyone affected by the decisions they make.  ...but not shut down important conversations Yesterday, The New York Times featured an article on what to do when someone won’t stop talking. Most of us don’t need research to validate this—we’ve lived it. It happens in social settings where you find yourself trapped in a one-sided conversation, nodding politely while scanning the room for an exit. It happens at work, too—when a meeting becomes a monologue, input disappears, and people leave feeling frustrated, disengaged, or invisible. So what can you do in the moment? Writer Jancee Dunn offers a few simple—and surprisingly effective—ways to take back the conversation:
In group settings, especially at work, the stakes are higher. When one person dominates, the group loses. A few ways to redirect without escalating:
Even better—don’t wait until it happens. Build norms that prevent it. Here are some creative meeting agreements used by teams at companies like Amazon, Google, and Apple include:
And sometimes, the lesson hits closer to home. Recently, I was co-presenting a virtual session with two other facilitators. I was in the flow—locked into my content—and completely missed the cues around me. When I finally looked up, I saw it: panic on their faces. I had gone well over my time. That moment stuck with me. Since then, I’ve made a few changes: building in intentional pauses, adding time markers to my notes, and—most importantly—looking up more often to read the room. Because monopolizing isn’t always about ego. Sometimes it’s about momentum, anxiety, or losing awareness. And that’s the real takeaway: We will all encounter the “talker.” And at times, we will be the talker. The goal isn’t perfection—it’s awareness, adjustment, and creating space where conversations become shared, not dominated.  Rethinking Productivity and the Monday Myth I’m fortunate to have a home office for projects, administrative work and preparation for meeting with clients. While some of my clients join me virtually, most of our work happens in person or in neutral spaces—and those interactions energize me. But Mondays? They’re not my most creative or productive days. And it turns out, I’m not alone. A 2023 Forbes article—based on hybrid workplace data—found that many workers report Mondays as their least productive day. It makes sense. We often need a transition from weekend to work mode. Knowing this about myself, I’ve built a system that keeps me moving forward—even when motivation is low. First, I rely heavily on my calendar. Weekly tasks (like this blog) are scheduled on repeat. And I’ll admit—an unchecked box on my to-do list is all the motivation I need. I don’t like leaving things unfinished. Second, when I have a deadline-driven project, I get up early, grab a cup of coffee, eliminate distractions, and focus deeply for a few hours. That concentrated time allows me to step away later—whether for a walk or the gym—without guilt. I’ve also learned to align my schedule with my energy. Mondays are best for client meetings when possible. And when it’s a no client, low energy Monday? I practice self-forgiveness. If I only have two solid hours in me, that’s okay—because I know that on another day, I might hit a 12-hour stride. Those are the days I find “flow.” And there’s nothing better. The reality is, we all have different rhythms, motivators, and capacities. And those differences can create friction in the workplace—across teams, generations, and organizational expectations. The same Forbes article suggests:
At the same time, hybrid work continues to evolve—shaped by both necessity and policy. For some, it’s a benefit. For others, it’s essential. So here’s the bigger question: What does it really mean to create a flexible, inclusive workplace? Do we pass on the most qualified candidate because they need a hybrid schedule to support their family? Can two high-performing employees share one full-time role? Are we designing systems that support autonomy—or forcing productivity into a one-size-fits-all model? Because when people are supported in how they work best, they show up differently. And yes—I'm writing this on a Monday, after 3:00 p.m. Not my peak time. But I’ve been thinking about this topic all day. And now, it’s done--a full day before my deadline. That checked box? Still incredibly motivating. So I’ll leave you with this: What’s your go-to strategy when you have to show up—but just aren’t feeling it?  Have you ever encountered someone at a gathering or in the office who launches into a negative monologue? Or someone who, despite your attempts at conversation, only wants to complain? I recently spent time with an acquaintance who loves to talk about themselves. It left me with the impression that they are clearly their favorite subject and feel the need to be the most interesting person in the room. There was also an undercurrent of negativity—as if someone else had to be diminished in order for them to feel elevated. I found myself both unacknowledged and the target of subtle put-downs. I did my best to show interest in some of their topics, ask follow-up questions, and occasionally offer my own viewpoint. I tried not to hijack the conversation or make it about me. I tried to be polite, respectful, and patient. But it was exhausting. Kahlil Gibran, in The Prophet, reflects on talking: “There are those among you who seek the talkative through fear of being alone. The silence of aloneness reveals to their eyes their naked selves and they would escape. And there are those who talk, and without knowledge of forethought reveal a truth which they themselves do not understand. And there are those who have the truth within them, but they tell it not in words.” Most of us carry some level of unresolved trauma—moments in life when we felt unseen, unworthy, uninteresting, or unqualified. When negativity spills out in conversation (or in a monologue), it often reveals more about the speaker’s internal world than the subject they are discussing. The longer someone stays inside that negativity bubble, the less aware they become of their impact. Logic quietly leaves the building, and emotion takes the microphone. As the recipient—or sometimes the unwitting target—our choices in the moment are limited. We can listen. We can be silent. And we can set boundaries around how much time and energy we are willing to give. If we choose to move into a more active listening role, we can also name what we observe, describe how it impacts us, and make a request of the other person. Sometimes this reflection allows the speaker to see themselves as others are experiencing them. It disrupts the pattern and gently calls attention to what is happening. In the case of my acquaintance, this person spent many years feeling unconfident and undervalued. In their effort to become who they want to be now, they may be overcompensating—unaware of how their words land on others. Instead of creating space for silence and meaningful dialogue, they fill the space with commentary, criticism, and self-promotion. Unfortunately, talking does not equal confidence. Confidence is often quieter. It shows up in reflection, self-awareness, and thoughtful communication. And sometimes the most confident thing we can do…is allow silence to speak.  Seeing Conflict from the Other Side As a mediator, one strategy I coach my clients to practice is putting themselves in the shoes of the other person. This involves brainstorming what the other person’s values and needs might be, what goals they hold for themselves, the relationship, and the resolution of the conflict. In essence, I’m asking my clients to pivot—to step outside of their own perspective and briefly step into the perspective of their conflict partner. Anyone who has participated in a debate understands the value of studying the other side. A strong debate is not won simply by presenting your own argument well; it also requires understanding the views, data, and emotions that support the opposing position. Successful preparation includes researching not only your side of the issue, but also anticipating the arguments the other team will bring. I have often found that arguing the less popular side of a topic—sometimes one I personally disagree with—actually makes me a stronger debater. It forces me to dig deeper into perspectives I might otherwise dismiss. By doing so, I become more informed and more thoughtful in both my presentation and rebuttal. Interestingly, when audiences or judges are strongly aligned with the more popular view, challenging that perspective can provoke a surprising amount of emotion. The better prepared I am to present the opposing side, the more it can unsettle the room. It is a curious juxtaposition: thoughtful disagreement can feel threatening when people are deeply invested in their perspective. In the workplace, differences in life experience, communication styles, and beliefs can easily create friction between colleagues. We may feel threatened by the other. The pivot approach mirrors the preparation used in debate. As a conflict coach, I support clients using a proven approach developed by Cinnie Noble, the creator of the CINERGY model. Through a one-on-one coaching process, clients explore the sources of conflict, identify their own needs and contributions to the situation, and then practice pivoting to consider the perspective of their conflict partner. In debate terms, if you are preparing the “pro” argument, conflict coaching asks you to thoughtfully explore the “con.” This process can be used on its own or as preparation for mediation or facilitation. The pivot allows us to pause, take a breath, and approach conflict with curiosity. Just as in debate, the more we understand about the other person’s perspective, the more effective we can be in what we share and how we respond. It also allows us to test assumptions, discover common ground, and build solutions that create a stronger path forward. When we step out of our own story and into someone else’s, conflict often shifts from a battle to a conversation.  Do We Ever Really Understand Each Other? Sometimes our greatest “aha” moments come from unexpected places. In my last blog, I wrote about the value of book clubs. It was in a work of fiction that I recently experienced one of those personal insights. As we move through life with family members, friends, and colleagues, some relationships hold a deep sense of mutual understanding. Others operate on autopilot—we go through the motions without ever truly seeing the person in front of us. According to Merriam-Webster, to understand is to grasp meaning, comprehend someone’s feelings or situation, or have a clear interpretation of what is being communicated. If understanding includes comprehending another’s feelings or experience, then it requires action. We build understanding by asking thoughtful questions, listening to comprehend rather than respond, and keeping the focus on the other person rather than ourselves. When we believe we understand, we can summarize what we’ve heard and create space for agreement, clarification, or correction. In the novel I read, the protagonist struggled with her mother for years. It wasn’t until a third party intervened that they realized the true source of their rift: they had never taken the time to genuinely understand one another. Assumptions had quietly shaped their story. Hurt feelings hardened into distance. When they finally “ripped off the bandage” and acknowledged their mutual pain, they began to see each other—not as caricatures built from assumptions, but as complex individuals with their own needs and fears. From there, deeper and more meaningful conversations became possible. Though fictional, the lesson resonates deeply. I see it often in the mediation room. What is initially labeled as “difficult behavior” begins to soften when people explore both impact and intent—when they share the values, needs, and experiences underneath their reactions. As shared understanding grows, defensiveness often gives way to curiosity. We thrive in our individuality. We want to be seen and accepted for who we are, not who others assume us to be. And while our uniqueness matters, so do our commonalities. Understanding lives in that space—where individuality and shared humanity meet. Perhaps the question is not whether we can ever fully understand each other. Perhaps it is whether we are willing to slow down enough to try.  ...and Ourselves
Book clubs are a wonderful way to stretch reading capacity—at least that’s how I experience the two I currently belong to. My original club began about 15 years ago and, over time, organically reduced to just three of us. One member eventually bowed out because she didn’t like the range of books we were choosing. I found that choice both curious and limiting, but the rest of us carried on. My second book club formed during COVID. I advertised it as a neighborhood-based group, and for the first year we met virtually. At our peak, we had eight members. Since then, one person moved away and another was asked to leave. This month, we’re welcoming a new member—a reminder that groups, like stories, evolve. Left to my own devices, I tend to gravitate toward familiar genres. Book clubs push me beyond that comfort zone. Some books land beautifully; others leave me scratching my head; a few become impossible to put down. Certain authors surprise me with their voice and insight, while others completely confound me. Along the way, I’ve come to appreciate audiobooks—especially for memoirs and nonfiction. The Book of Joy is a perfect example: listening to it added a depth and emotional resonance I don’t think I would have experienced on the page. I’ve also found meaning in unexpected places—even in light, beach-read fiction. Some stories help me better understand complicated relationships with my mother and family, offering small but powerful insights when I least expect them. And occasionally, quite by accident, I select a book with very steamy sex scenes (some authors truly know how to build tension). Book clubs offer many life lessons. Having a shared text gives people something neutral yet meaningful to talk about. Through that conversation, we learn about each other, hear differing perspectives, ask better questions, and discover how differently we each experience the same written work. Our life experiences act as a lens through which we interpret a story, and discussing it together invites growth—and sometimes a shift in perspective. In many ways, we are each active participants in our own nonfiction story. We experience life as both protagonist and author, while others experience our story as supporting characters—or occasionally as co-authors. Conflict sits at the center of every compelling book, movie, or plotline. It’s what keeps us engaged, develops characters, and moves the story forward. When conflict shows up in our own lives, it’s not a failure of the narrative—it’s an opportunity to deepen relationships, respond with curiosity, and remember that others are experiencing our story through their own lens. A book club brings different people together around a shared love of stories and written work. The most successful ones establish clear understandings—ground rules that create safety, invite participation, encourage respectful disagreement, and ensure that all voices and perspectives have space. In that way, book clubs don’t just help us read more widely; they help us live—and relate—more thoughtfully. ... and Doing the Hard Work When people are tasked with negotiating on behalf of others who have no power or voice, walking away should never be an option. Yet I see it happen repeatedly—with parents navigating co-parenting and with elected officials charged with representing the public. In both cases, the harm falls on those who have no seat at the table. In co-parenting disputes, parents are asked to create plans that primarily affect their children. When they stay in fight mode or refuse to fully engage, it is the children who suffer. The same dynamic plays out when elected officials abandon negotiations or refuse to participate in good faith. Bullying tactics, rigid posturing, and walking away because they dislike the opposing position are not principled acts—they are failures of responsibility. In nearly every other profession, this behavior would have consequences. A businessperson who refuses to negotiate would lose clients. An employee who ignores expectations would be fired. A doctor who withholds care would lose their license. Parents who cannot co-parent safely risk losing custody of their children. So why is it acceptable for elected officials to shut down the government, disrupt paychecks, and put the country at risk—without accountability? Why do they continue to receive pay and benefits while the people they represent struggle to meet basic needs? The ripple effects of these decisions create fear, instability, and real harm. At the root of this problem is dehumanization. The “other” becomes unworthy, less than, or undeserving of consideration. As a mediator, I have worked with people who view the other side as irredeemable. Yet time and again, I see transformation begin when people talk about their needs and, especially, the impact of the conflict. That process alone can begin to restore humanity and open a path forward. Not every mediation ends with full agreement. But when parties feel heard and understood, they are far more willing to engage in solutions that are workable and sustainable—even when compromise is difficult. Parents and politicians share something critical: they negotiate on behalf of people without a voice. When they cannot see the other side as human, the least they can do is center the people they represent. With parents, I often ask them to talk about their children—sometimes even to bring a photo—so we remember why we are there. Why can’t politicians do the same? Tell me about all your constituents. What do they need? What do you need to move forward? Where is the overlap? Doing the job means staying at the table. It means negotiating in the best interest of all constituents and honoring the legal and ethical frameworks that govern our democracy. Accountability matters. I propose that elected officials be required to remain in negotiations, supported by impartial mediators, until a resolution is reached—especially when decisions are time-sensitive and impact livelihoods. Walking away should carry consequences, including loss of pay, benefits, and voting power. In every other profession, accountability is expected. Our democracy should be no exception.  ...and the Cost of “Faking It” Years ago, I was introduced to Amy Cuddy's TED Talk, where she shared her journey through adversity, feeling like a fraud at times, and the idea of “faking it till you make it.” To this day, I still pause to do the Wonder Woman pose for a few moments before stepping into a training or speaking space. It’s a small ritual—but an empowering one. What underlies that practice for me is not performance, but authenticity. William Shakespeare is often credited with the phrase, “A jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one.” The quote has always made me curious about how we define mastery—and whether authenticity is part of it. How do authenticity and mastery align? And at what point do we cross the line from stretching ourselves into new capacity to genuinely faking it? This question becomes especially amplified when I find myself in roles that require me to show up in ways that don’t align with my professional values. For example, delivering a program in a manner that feels inauthentic to who I am. In those moments, I can feel the pressure to conform in order to be “successful” by someone else’s definition. That pressure often brings second-guessing, self-monitoring, and stress. Those reactions are data. Over time, I’ve come to see that this isn’t simply impostor syndrome. It’s a signal of misalignment. My conclusion—sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes clarifying—is that my mastery may not be aligned with the expectations of the role. If I choose to continue participating, conformity may be required. And that leaves me with a harder question: How do I remain both authentic and effective? My answer is twofold. First, I seek specific feedback about how I show up in the role. Not vague reassurance, but concrete information. This helps me distinguish between what is truly required and what I may be assuming is required. Second, I create my own process for showing up—one that meets the expectations of the role while staying anchored in my values. This is not a one-time adjustment, but an ongoing practice of reflection: listening to feedback, making intentional changes, and noticing how those changes land internally. One of my professional “superpowers” is authenticity. I strive to own my mistakes. I reflect on my impact. And I retain the power to decide how I want to proceed. That doesn’t mean I never stretch or adapt. Growth often requires some discomfort. But when I find myself faking it too much—when the performance becomes exhausting or values-eroding—that’s usually the moment authenticity is being compromised. Perhaps mastery isn’t about never faking it. Perhaps it’s about knowing why we’re stretching, how long we’re willing to stretch, and what we’re unwilling to sacrifice in the process. For me, authenticity isn’t showing up the same way in every room. It’s showing up with intention, integrity, and the courage to notice when the cost is too high—and to choose accordingly.  |
Sunny Sassaman
Sharing experiences and insights of reflection and conflict management techniques. Archives
April 2026
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