Working for someone versus being entrusted with the freedom to operate as you see fit creates fundamentally different mindsets. Today’s workplace is often governed by rigid expectations—metrics to hit, processes to follow, and the unrelenting pressure to conform. But imagine a world where the goals remain fixed, yet the methods are yours to decide.
Businesses spend thousands, if not millions, on external agencies
to solve problems that, ostensibly, their own teams should handle. What does that say about these teams—or, indeed, the organisations employing them—if external expertise must swoop in to save the day? Does it reflect a lack of capability, or simply a lack of trust?
Now flip the script. What might happen to productivity—and morale—if employees were given genuine autonomy? Consider your own career. When you accepted your current role, what drove the decision? Was it the lure of higher pay, the chance to learn from someone better, or the promise of working on grander projects? For many in the early stages of their careers, learning from the best is crucial. But mentorship isn’t just about absorbing skills—it’s about seeing what doesn’t work, observing failures firsthand, and knowing how to avoid them when your turn comes.
This evolution often culminates in leadership roles: heading a team, running a department, or finally shaping a business in your own way. Yet the reality is often less idyllic. Even leaders—senior, seasoned, ostensibly empowered—frequently find themselves shackled. Decisions remain dictated by someone higher up, someone who “knows best.” Small wonder that so many leaders eventually leave organisations, citing “fit” as the issue. In truth, they were simply not trusted to lead.
In recent years, I’ve spoken to numerous senior leaders across operations, marketing, and product development—individuals brimming with expertise. Their frustrations share a common thread: bosses who refuse to delegate real authority. Yet I count myself fortunate. In one of my previous roles, I was given carte blanche to build and lead. My bosses trusted me to shape my teams, align with other departments, and get on with the job. Instead of creating silos, this trust fostered a culture of mutual respect, where every leader was valued for their expertise. Trust, I realised, was not just a virtue but a strategy.
I still remember one of my team members, fresh from a rigid corporate environment, asking me at the end of her first day what time she should report the next morning. My answer—“I don’t know, when do you need to be in?”—floored her. Accustomed to punching the clock, she struggled to adapt to this new autonomy. But soon enough, she settled into the rhythm of being trusted to deliver.
That culture of trust marked a turning point for me. Eventually, I realised I couldn’t thrive in environments where autonomy was scarce. That’s why I left the corporate world to start Trove. The irony? My mindset had shifted long before. The seeds of my so-called entrepreneurial mindset were planted in my early career by mentors who urged me to treat every sale, every expense, and every mistake as if I owned the business. At the time, it seemed like a burden. In hindsight, it was liberating.
Starting my own company didn’t fundamentally change my mindset—it merely expanded its scope. I’m juggling more responsibilities: designing websites, managing accounts, and handling myriad details I once left to others. But at its core, my work reflects my values, and the clients I attract share those values. Trust and autonomy remain the cornerstones. They shaped my career, and now they shape my business.