You've Seen Greatness (That's Why This Feels So Weird)
Why discomfort isn't dysfunction — it's the absence of contrast
Welcome to Frank Takeaways. I'm Frank, writing the notes worth keeping from decades at companies like Slack, Etsy, and Google. I run a coaching practice dedicated to guiding leaders through the tricky stuff of building products and high-performing teams.
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Fifteen minutes into a recent coaching session, a product lead at a Series A startup leaned forward and lowered her voice:
"Everything feels off. Am I crazy?"
She wasn't crazy. She'd just seen — or maybe better said, felt — greatness before. And now she was feeling its absence without quite knowing how to name it. This is the strange terrain you enter after experiencing higher standards. Nothing's broken — it's just that the contrast is gone.
More than a decade ago, Joe Kraus wrote a piece that I keep revisiting. The title said it all: "If You Don't Think You Need It, You Haven't Seen Greatness."
His point was simple, whether about product marketing, legal, or any other role: once you've seen greatness, you can't go back. You stop questioning whether that function is "worth it," because now you know what it unlocks.
That's just it. Greatness ruins you in the best way.
Psychologists call this the contrast effect — your sense of what's "normal" shifts based on past experiences. Going from a high-performing environment to a merely good one feels like moving from a symphony to a garage band. The garage band isn't wrong — you just can't un-hear the symphony.
I've felt this myself. Moving from Google to a startup and then to another, I kept having these moments where I'd suggest something basic — like a structured decision doc or a launch calendar — and people would look at me like I was some kind of organizational genius. I wasn't. I'd just been somewhere where those things were standard operating procedure.
It's like living in New York for years, then moving to a small town and wondering why no one delivers Thai food at 11pm.
The problem isn't the town.
The problem is that you've experienced a different standard — without realizing it was special.
Welcome to the Grown-Up Table
One of the weirdest parts of leveling up in your career and joining a new team, company, or role is that the problems start showing up as vibes.
You step into the new place, and everything feels heavier. Slower. Messier. The tools are there, your co-workers are smart and friendly, so why does everything still feel off?
Because your body noticed what was missing before your brain caught up.
Cognitive scientists refer to this as expert intuition, your subconscious spotting patterns (or absences) before your conscious mind can name them. You're not "overreacting"; you've just developed an inner compass tuned by past excellence.
This leader had operated in more mature orgs before, ones where product and sales had a rhythm. Where cross-functional partnerships were more than a formality. Where feedback was a given, not a surprise. She had seen greatness. She just didn't know to name it as such because back then, it was the air she breathed.
Now she was in a company where that air was thinner. Not toxic. Just… less oxygen. The disorientation that followed wasn't because anything was broken, but because there was no contrast. Without that, it's easy to think the discomfort must be coming from you.
And here's what truly messes with your head: your discomfort is often invisible to everyone else. Not because they don't care, but because they've never breathed that richer air. You're noticing the absence of greatness while they're experiencing what they consider normal.
This invisible gap is why your suggestions might be met with confusion rather than enthusiasm. You're not imagining things — you've just developed a calibration that others haven't had the opportunity to acquire.
You're not being too precious. You've just been to the mountaintop, and now you're stuck explaining snow to people who've only lived in the desert. It's frustrating, but it's not a red flag — it's your cue to lead.
Building the Playbook (While You Run)
Have you ever said, "I feel like I'm working on a bunch of stuff, but I'm not sure any of it matters."
You were executing. But it all felt fuzzy. Like you were applying first principles with no clear direction in sight.
You're craving context. At a Series A, that means knowing exactly what you need to prove for Series B: What's the strategy? What's the bar?
And here's the hidden tax of leadership: you're not just there to operate inside the system — you're often building the system itself. That's the sneaky shift: leadership moves from doing the work to designing the systems that make work possible. Suddenly, the playbook feels like it's missing pages because, well, you're writing some of them as you go.
You used to rely on senior leaders to push you. Now you are the senior leader. No one's going to tell you what the standard should be, push for that weekly leadership sync, clarify the difference between goals and strategy, or suggest a cross-functional touch point. That's your job now. And it's weirdly hard to accept, especially when everyone's friendly and "figuring it out."
Confession: When I first became a senior leader, I waited months for someone else to set the strategy or start hard conversations until I realized that ‘someone’ was me.
The good news? You don't have to get everything right. But you do have to start modeling what right looks like.
Leading with Empathy (Even When the Air Feels Thin)
It’s tempting to assume others don’t care or are fine with “good enough.” Usually, that’s not the case — they simply might not have experienced what "great" looks like.
Most people genuinely want to do meaningful work. Resistance or indifference often masks uncertainty, discomfort with change, or unfamiliarity. Your job isn't just raising the bar — it's patiently showing others what's possible.
One powerful phrase: “I think this might help us, but if not, let’s revisit it in a month.” This shows you're invested in collective success, open to feedback, and willing to adjust if needed.
Lead with empathy, not just standards. That’s how you find fellow founders, not just followers and how greatness quietly takes root.
How to Teach Snow in the Desert
Teaching snow in the desert isn’t about delivering a blizzard overnight — it’s about helping others sense the coolness in the air. Each small, strategic action you take is another flake, quietly showing everyone that something different is possible.
Think Ted Lasso, not Ted Talks.
Like asking why product isn't invited to the go-to-market meeting. Suggesting a joint plan with your sales lead. Or pointing out that a roadmap isn't a strategy.
If this is resonating, here are a few micro-actions that help build that new climate:
Don't confuse strategy with projects
A goal is what we want. A strategy is how we think we'll get there. Projects are bets we make to test that strategy.
A company in Series A might not have this codified. That doesn't mean it shouldn't exist. Start with a hypothesis: "We believe we'll grow by focusing on X segment using Y advantage." Then check if your projects are laddering up. Even a one-pager with this logic can orient a team used to wandering in the dark.
Create contrast where none exists
You don't need to overhaul the culture. Start by adding a signal.
Try a monthly launch review or a short, opinionated write-up on how product and GTM can partner. Maybe create a list of the 5 questions every customer should be able to answer on your homepage.
Each signal becomes a little weather change, cloud by cloud, showing others that something new is possible.
Build allies, not just processes
The loneliest part of being "the one who's seen greatness" is feeling like you're the only one who cares. Find your fellow standard-bearers:
That frustrated sales leader, the engineer who appreciates clear requirements, the designer who wants to build systems rather than just screens.
Greatness spreads through networks, not mandates.
Your fellow "greatness carriers" are out there. If no one else has seen greatness before, make it visible.
This isn't just intuition — organizational change research underscores that small, consistent actions plus allies — not just process docs — drive real, lasting change.
Ready to help others feel the shift? Start tomorrow with one clear, small action:
Schedule the very first cross-functional launch demo.
Ask explicitly in Slack, “Who else needs eyes on this before we ship?”
Create a one-pager explicitly linking a project back to strategy.
The Gift of Feeling Crazy
If you've ever found yourself asking, "Why is this so hard?" you're not alone. You're ahead of the curve. The discomfort isn't failure — it's awareness. You've seen better. That's a gift.
And if no one else recognizes what's missing yet? That just means you get to be the one who names it. Just like you can’t go back once you’ve seen greatness, once you've shown greatness to others, they can't unsee it either.
Eventually, you may wonder if it’s time to find a place that matches your standards rather than continually raising them alone. If thoughtful attempts keep hitting walls, trust your instincts and remember how greatness feels.
So yes, it feels weird now. Good. That’s your cue. You're not crazy — you're just first to notice the air thinning. Good news: you get to open the window.
Opening that window might start with the smallest breeze — one question, one meeting, one document — but soon enough, you'll feel the air shifting around you. That's how climates change.
The disorientation isn’t a sign of weakness, it’s proof you’ve lived and learned in rarefied air.
What's one moment you realized you'd been quietly spoiled by greatness? Drop a comment — I'd love to hear it.