Did you know that speed can kill a product?

I remember the day I realized this — not from a book, not from a course, but from my own mistake, lived in real time.

We were a small team launching a new product. A colleague had done solid research: the need was real, the market was there, the timing seemed perfect. We brought together experienced people, chose the right technologies, and got started. High energy, total focus, fast execution.

After a few iterations, we had an MVP. Users showed up. The response was positive. We accelerated.

As we moved forward, small bugs appeared. We logged them, documented them — and deferred them. The reasoning was simple and, at the time, seemed sound: future releases will fix the minor issues. Right now, our focus is speed of delivery.

We were agile. We were fast. We were closing sprint after sprint.

And we were building, without knowing it, a time bomb.

When Speed Becomes a Weapon Against You

The small problems didn’t go away. They accumulated. And at some point, our platform became frustrating for anyone trying to do anything more complex than a basic action.

Any advanced report returned inconsistencies. Any combination of data became unreliable. Users no longer trusted the numbers they were seeing — and without trust in data, a tech product has no argument left.

People stopped using us.

The effort to repair the damage — technical and relational — was ten times greater than it would have been had we fixed the problems in time. And the user feedback we had ignored in our race for speed turned out to be a gold mine. When we finally stopped to listen, we discovered solutions we hadn’t seen — and felt the sting of knowing they had been within reach all along.

Throughout this entire period, I lived with a quiet, persistent internal conflict. I knew this speed could be fatal if we hit an obstacle along the way. And yet I kept going, caught inside the logic of the system.

You can drive at 80 mph. But that speed is for the highway. On a narrow mountain road, that same 80 mph turns any small obstacle — a rock, an unexpected curve — into a fatal accident.

We were building a product on a mountain road. And driving like we were on a highway.

The Illusion of Productivity

A few months later I found myself in a completely different phase — research. I was trying to solve a new challenge, with no clear solution in sight.

Entire days of reading articles, taking notes, watching videos, listening to experts who had faced similar problems. It was slow, diffuse work, with no visible deliverables at the end of the day.

And I felt terrible about it.

In the evenings, looking back at the day that had passed, I felt like I had wasted my time. I hadn’t checked anything off. I hadn’t delivered anything. I hadn’t produced anything measurable.

The irony? Looking back now, that period was one of the most productive of my career. The connections I formed then, the understanding I built in those seemingly lost days — they underpinned decisions that mattered enormously later on.

But in that moment, my evaluation system was lying to me. I was judging myself by the wrong metrics for the season I was in.

Work Has Seasons

The revelation didn’t come from a single moment. It came from many, gathered over time, until the picture became clear.

Work, I realized, unfolds in seasons — just like nature.

Sometimes you’re in a speed season: the market is moving, the window is narrow, agility is a superpower. You deliver fast, adapt fast, iterate without stopping.

Other times you’re in a season of careful navigation: the waters are murky, visibility is low, every maneuver matters. Speed doesn’t help you — it kills you. You need patience, attention, the ability to read small signals before they become crises.

Other times you’re in a season of strict discipline: procedures exist for a reason, an apparently minor error can trigger a chain of disasters. Improvisation is the enemy, not the ally.

The problem isn’t that one of these seasons is wrong. The problem is when you apply the metrics of one season in the middle of another.

When you measure research by sprint standards — speed, deliverables, visible output — you will always feel behind, even if you’re building something essential.

When you measure careful navigation by highway speed, you accelerate exactly when you should be braking.

The Question We Never Ask

The tech industry — and beyond — is obsessed with methodologies. Scrum. SAFe. OKRs. Kanban. Lean. Each one promises that if you apply it correctly, you’ll deliver faster, better, more consistently.

And many of them actually work. That’s not the problem.

The problem is that all these methodologies tell you how to move. The speed, the rhythm, the process, the ceremonies.

But none of them ask you the first thing that should be asked:

What season are you in? And where are you going?

A high-performance vehicle, driven in the wrong direction, gets you faster to a place you never wanted to be. A fifteenth-century navigator could have the best oars, the most disciplined crew, the most efficient watch rotation system — and still die in the ocean if he didn’t know where north was.

Your metrics today — tasks checked off, sprints closed, team velocity — are the oars. They are not the compass.

Let Me Ask You Something

Think about your last week of work.

Were you busy? Almost certainly. Did you deliver things? Probably. Did you feel like you were genuinely moving toward something that matters?

If the answer to that last question came harder than the others — you’re not lazy, you’re not disorganized, and you don’t need another productivity system.

It’s possible the problem isn’t how hard you work.

It’s possible the problem is that you’re measuring the wrong things for the season you’re in.

Next I’m writing about what a true north looks like — and what it means to navigate with a compass, not just a more powerful engine.

If this article described something you’ve felt too, give it a follow. Let’s continue the conversation.

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The Importance of Brave Questions

Recently, I went through a very stressful situation. I had important decisions to make, and the near future seemed highly uncertain. As the days went by, the stress kept mounting to new levels. Physically, I began to experience feelings I couldn't recall having before.

I realized I needed to take action because this was affecting my personal life. I asked myself how I had ended up in this situation and started addressing the first issues I identified. While I felt a sense of accomplishment as my to-do list shrank, I couldn't shake off a lingering pressure—a mix of stress and fear—that I couldn’t fully control.

That’s when it hit me: it wasn’t just about solving the obvious problems. What I was avoiding were the deeper, more uncomfortable questions.

I remembered the mental model of proximate cause vs. root cause and noticed that all my solutions were addressing the proximate cause. However, after moments of genuine reflection, honest questioning, and rest, I finally reached the root of my issues.

And it worked! Once I addressed the root cause with honesty, the stress, fear, and uncertainty disappeared. I became efficient at work again, and my personal life returned to normal.

I realized just how powerful brave questions can be and how much impact an uncomfortable question can have. In fact, the driving force behind innovation, meaningful relationships, or any discovery is often a question.

I recently read an article about a plumber in Vienna who found a treasure in an old house he was renovating simply because he asked himself: "What’s at the other end of this rope sticking out of the basement?"

Through the Brave Questions Newsletter, I aim to help us learn how to ask questions that encourage growth, open new paths, and uncover opportunities.

The Role of Questions in Communication and Development

At its core, communication aims to build relationships, exchange ideas, or solve problems. More often than not, we focus on the statements being made, but questions are just as important—if not more so.

I've noticed that we don’t really know how to ask good questions. Think about the last event you attended: how many thoughtful questions were asked? When was the last time you said, “Wow, that’s a great question”?

It’s not enough to just ask a question. The way you phrase it, the words you choose, and your intent behind the question all play a significant role in effective communication. Asking great questions is an art, and mastering it requires practice.

Here’s an experiment for you: Plan a conversation with someone close to you and prepare a set of questions in advance. Choose a theme for your discussion—perhaps learning something new, solving a problem, challenging their or your thinking, stimulating creativity, or simply strengthening your relationship. Over time, you’ll notice that the quality of your conversations will improve, and your ability to ask meaningful questions will become second nature.

The Science Behind Questions

People love to talk about themselves. Think back to how much you enjoyed sharing stories from your last vacation. For me, reliving those moments felt almost as exciting as experiencing them.

Why does this happen? Because we are the protagonists of our own stories.

A study from Harvard University shows that nearly 40% of our conversations involve talking about ourselves. When participants in the study were asked to speak about themselves or someone else, brain scans revealed that talking about oneself activated the reward center of the brain.

Some people, either naturally or through learned skills, use this knowledge to their advantage. These individuals draw others toward them, are enjoyable to be around, and seem to possess an endless curiosity. I bet you already have someone in mind who fits this description. Negotiators, for instance, use these tactics to make their counterparts feel important, lower barriers, and engage in equal-level discussions.

When it comes to problem-solving, Toyota engineers discovered that asking "why" at least five times is essential to uncovering the root cause of a problem. They even developed an entire process around this method to identify the core issue.

Reflection

Have you ever experienced a moment when a brave question changed the course of events? Or a moment when, had you asked just one more question, the outcome might have been different? I’ve had plenty of those.

While we can’t prepare for every situation, we can start by asking Brave Questions of ourselves and those around us.

Put It Into Practice

Could you try asking at least one of these brave questions in the coming days? You might be surprised where the conversation leads:

Brave Questions When Meeting Someone New

1. "What is one experience that profoundly changed you, and what did you learn from it?"

2. "What do you think makes you unique compared to others?"

3. "If you could teach the world one thing, what would it be and why?"

Brave Questions When You Want to Learn Something New

1. "What was the hardest lesson you’ve learned in this field, and how did you overcome it?"

2. "What’s a common mistake you’ve seen beginners make, and how can it be avoided?"

Brave Questions When Solving a Problem

1. "What perspectives am I missing that could change how I see this problem?"

2. "What’s the simplest solution I might be ignoring because it seems too obvious?"

3. "If there were no limitations, how would you approach this situation?"

Brave Questions to Challenge Your Thinking

1. "What core belief do I hold that, if proven wrong, would change my life?"

2. "What’s the biggest risk I could take right now to achieve an ambitious goal?"

3. "What would the perfect solution look like if I let go of all fear and constraints?"