The afternoon is slowly passing, the sun is already setting and casting a last, sparse ray of light into conference room C. The decorative potted palm tree, placed there to give the room a calming touch, leans tensely against the window. In the middle of the room stands a large, round table, now adorned with empty coffee cups, crumpled notepads, and empty chairs. Noah and Serena are the last ones here. Both are worn out from the exhausting day. The last meeting in particular took more of a toll on their nerves than the two project partners are willing to admit. They sit in silence for quite a while. The only sound comes from the quiet hum of the air conditioning.
Finally, Noah plucks up his courage, leans back, and rubs his face wearily.
“I think I overdid it a bit just now.”
Serena looks up. “At the meeting?” She exhales audibly. “Yes, that was… suboptimal.”
He nods sheepishly. “I was too loud, wasn’t I? I mean… I didn’t yell, but it was pretty uncomfortable…” Serena utters an ambiguous “hm.”
“I just felt so powerless,” Noah continues. “Everyone is pulling in a different direction, no one is listening to me. I really felt like I was the only one trying to resolve the chaos.”
Serena nods slowly. “I know what you mean. And honestly, I felt the same way. Except that at that moment, I thought I should stay calm. Counterbalance you, in a way. So that things wouldn’t completely escalate.”
Noah looks at her, confused. “Counterbalance? You hardly said anything.”
“Yes,” she admits, exhaling wearily, “because I was afraid of just throwing logs on the fire. But I guess I wasn’t really helpful.”
“Not really,” Noah mumbles. “I just felt really alone in this the whole time.”
He hesitates. “I think we’re losing control of the project… If we keep going like this… I just wanted to get everyone under control somehow and make sure the team finally did their jobs…”
Serena nods and thinks for a moment. “I’d say we’ve both been trying to maintain in control. Just in different ways. You tried pressure, I withdrew.”
They exchange a faint but honest smile.
“And neither is working,” Noah concludes.
“No, quite obviously not,” Serena replies. “But what’s the alternative?”
Noah thinks about it. “Maybe… less control?”
“Sounds risky,” she says, but her tone isn’t dismissive.
“Well,” says Noah, “we have to learn somehow to recognize earlier when things are about to go south. For ourselves as well as for the team. I only realize afterwards that I overreacted.”
“I can actually feel the tension, but then I try to push it away somehow. But that usually leads to it becoming entrenched, like today. That’s probably the point where you need to slow down instead of forcibly taking control of the chaos.”
Noah nods in agreement.
“Makes sense. But then you’d have to know how to do it. I can’t start meditating every time things get stressful.”
“No,” Serena smiles, “but maybe it helps to take a step back for a moment, take a second before you react. Two seconds. Take deep breaths. And then make yourself aware: Okay, I’m angry, but I can use this energy to act constructively. Self-regulation.”
Noah nods thoughtfully. “Don’t suppress it, but don’t explode either.”
“Exactly,” says his counterpart. “And if you can do that, you’ll definitely be able to respond better to others. Not just to what they say, but to what’s behind their reaction as well.”
“Yeah, yeah, empathy and all that,” Noah mumbles and has to smile. “But please, none of that ‘we all just love each other so much’ stuff.”
“Of course,” laughs Serena, “but definitely more understanding than pure sympathy. For example, if Ben keeps handing off assignments that are only half finished, it may not be because he’s lazy – maybe he’s overwhelmed!”
“Or he doesn’t know exactly what we expect of him,” Noah points out.
“That’s right,” Serena agrees. “Then the mistake would be in our communication.”
Her conversation partner leans forward. “We’ll have to work on that… We need to coordinate more clearly. And that also means we need to make sure that people can address issues without fear of someone freaking out,” he concludes somewhat sheepishly.
“Exactly. I think giving others a safe space for honest feedback would improve morale. And strengthen trust overall, in both us as project managers and in the team members themselves. Without trust, without a foundation, we won’t get anywhere with this project.”
“That’s true,” Noah admits. “Trust is the basis for motivation. If you don’t feel secure, you don’t dare to take responsibility.“ Both pause for a moment to reflect on their thoughts. Then he continues: ”So we have a chain of action: self-regulation, empathy, trust, motivation.”
“That almost sounds like a system,” Serena says cheerfully. “But we both have to pursue it. Not just theoretically, but practically!” “I’ll try not to be so impulsive next time—but if I can’t manage it—”
“—I won’t retreat and instead try to support you. I promise.” “Okay. And vice versa, of course: if I notice that you’re starting to shut yourself off, I’ll make sure to back off and bring you back on board.”
“And if we both practice this successfully, we can pass it on to the team,” says Serena. “Exactly,” says Noah, now more energetic. “We set an example, maybe not perfectly, but visibly at least. And I think we should continue these debriefings, for mutual reflection. Completely openly.”
“Transparency,” Serena nods. “Be brutally honest before things boil over. Respectfully, of course.”
Noah adds, “Especially in stressful moments. I know from my own experience that when someone raises their voice, it usually just means they don’t feel heard.”
Serena agrees emphatically. “Then de-escalation would not just be empty appeasement, but genuine listening.”
Both grin hopefully and cheerfully at each other. Then Noah thinks aloud: “I always felt like in order to lead strongly and maintain authority, you have to exert pressure and, when in doubt, take tough action. But I guess strength doesn’t necessarily mean always staying in control under all circumstances, but also opening up, showing empathy, and relinquishing responsibility…”
“And showing calm doesn’t mean saying nothing,” adds Serena. “It means staying present and reaching out to people when things get turbulent.”
They look at each other. For the first time in days, they both feel their tension ebbing away and cautious optimism rising.
Noah stands up and takes a half-full bottle of water out of his bag. He takes a few sips and turns back to his colleague. “How are we going to manage all this—practically speaking?”
“Start small and take it one step at a time.” Serena now stands up too and rubs her eyes briefly. “We check in with each other every day: How are you, what do you need, what’s going wrong? No meetings, just a quick, honest exchange.”
“Sounds almost trivial,” says Noah, smiling crookedly in her direction.
“And when we see that it works and we function better as a result, we can bring it to the team,” Serena continues. “So that everyone knows that emotions are part of life, but they don’t have to determine everything.”
“Less firefighting, more weather service,” Noah says, suppressing a laugh. His project partner frowns, but she is clearly amused by his comment. “You mean because we notice early on when there’s a storm coming and react before a fire starts?” “Yup,” Noah replies contentedly.
He raises his now almost empty water bottle and toasts her. “To growing and learning together.”
“And to less war in the conference room,” adds Serena. They nod to each other, now much less dejected. There is even a hint of enthusiasm.
Outside, the sun has now sunk below the horizon, and before both project partners leave Hall C, they look around one last time. For a moment, the room seems larger – as if both have rediscovered something that had been lost in the stress and the emotional chaos of the previous meeting … Tomorrow will be a good day.
