The Difference Is Ten Seconds

We’ve all heard it, and many of us have said it.

A decision comes up. It sits right in front of someone. It falls within their role and their authority. And the response comes almost automatically.

“Let me check with my boss.”

Sometimes that’s wise. Alignment matters. Context matters.

That’s not the situation we’re thinking about here.

We’re thinking about the reflex. The lazy habit. The moment a leader has the ball and immediately hands it back up the chain.

“I’ll get back to you.”

“Let me confirm before we move…”

Ownership just left the room.

One instance feels harmless. But a regular occurrence starts to define the culture.

Decisions begin to climb instead of moving forward. Time stretches. Energy fades. Momentum slips away, one small deferral at a time.

Every time a leader defers a decision that belongs to them, the team hears something unspoken.

“I have the title. But I’m still waiting for permission to lead.”

There are reasons this shows up. A leader may have learned that their decisions will be second-guessed. A leader may want to avoid risk. In some cases, the habit settles in because it feels efficient in the moment.

It never is.

Leadership is not a forwarding function. Leadership is a decision function. When decisions don’t happen where they should, everything slows down.


Consider a different kind of decision environment.

Naval destroyers move through the Pacific at night. Visibility is limited. The stakes are high. Decisions carry immediate consequences.

Arleigh Burke commanded Destroyer Squadron 23 during World War II. He pushed his ships to full speed when it mattered, earning the nickname “31-knot Burke.”

He once said, “The difference between a good officer and a great officer is ten seconds.”

Ten seconds.

In that environment, ten seconds could determine who struck first and who absorbed the hit. There was no version of that moment where a commander paused to seek permission for a decision that was already theirs to make.

Burke’s point wasn’t about speed alone. It hinged on readiness.

A ten-second decision is formed long before the moment arrives. It’s shaped through preparation, and thinking clearly about what matters and what doesn’t. When the moment comes, the leader recognizes it and moves.


Most of us aren’t making decisions in the middle of a night battle at sea. We’re making decisions in conference rooms, over email, in conversations with our teams, and in small moments where direction is needed.

A customer is waiting. A team needs clarity. Our decision will either create movement or stall it.

In those moments, the difference comes down to a single response.

“Let me check.”

Or

“Here’s what we’re going to do.”

The gap between these two responses is only ten seconds. But what fills that gap, or fails to, defines the kind of leader you are.

The leaders who move in those moments aren’t guessing. They’re drawing on work they’ve already done. They’ve thought through the tradeoffs. Formed principles that guide their decisions. They understand the scope of their responsibility. They trust their preparation and their judgment.

Because of that, they don’t need to look upward for every answer. They don’t need to defer decisions that belong within their role.

They lead.

Create unnecessary delays, and uncertainty spreads. Energy drains. People begin to fill the gaps with their own assumptions.

A leader who steps forward brings clarity into the room.


The next time that familiar reflex shows up, pause for a moment and ask a better question.

Is this mine to decide?

If it is, then decide. Step forward. Move.

The distance between good and great leadership rarely shows up in dramatic events. It shows up in small decisions, repeated over time, where someone chooses to act, or chooses to wait.

Burke’s destroyers didn’t win the night by waiting for permission. They won it by being ready when the moment came.

That moment is already yours.

Ten seconds. Make them count.

Photo by Hayrunnisa Görgülü on Unsplash

The Thing Before the Thing IS the Thing

Somewhere along the way, I’ve noticed a quiet truth.

The thing I was working toward (the goal, the vision, the project, the finish line) always required other steps. Preparation. Research. Practice. Training. A foundation. A warm-up.

While I tried to focus on the thing I wanted to do, most of my time was spent doing all the other things that needed to happen first.

Building a deck means hauling lumber, squaring the posts, digging holes…and at least three trips to Home Depot. Writing a book means staring at blank pages, deleting paragraphs (and chapters), and researching obscure details that may never make it to print. Staying in shape means lacing up your shoes at dawn when no one else is watching. Starting a business means filling out countless forms, talking to lots of people who say no, and revisiting your reasons why, countless times. 

These tasks are not detours or distractions. They are merely steps on the journeys we’ve chosen.

If we can learn to love these quiet and often unnoticed tasks that prepare the way, we may find the joy we’re seeking was there all along.

We might discover that the thing we’re chasing isn’t the prize. It only led us to the road we were meant to walk. To meet the people we were meant to meet.

So go ahead. Lace up your shoes at dawn. Cut that first board. Tape off all the areas you don’t want to paint. Make that first sales pitch. Get to know people you never expected to meet.

Embrace all the steps that come before the thing.

It turns out, they are the thing.

“Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe.” — Abraham Lincoln

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

The Work Before the Work

Everyone loves the big idea. The bold plan. A strong vision of what can be.

It’s easy to get excited about an amazing result.  A finished project, a better version of ourselves, a breakthrough moment. But big plans mean nothing without the tools and materials to carry them out.

Goals and aspirations get a lot of attention.  Preparation, usually not so much. 

Preparation isn’t glamorous. No one sees the early mornings, the quiet practice, the reading, the repetitions, the small decisions and adjustments that come from thinking deeply about how to be better. But that’s where everything starts. That’s the real work.

You can’t build a tower by imagining the top floor. You start by stacking bricks. And before that, you must gather the bricks. Along with mortar. Along with the tools to lift, cut, measure, and shape. That’s what preparation is.  Gathering what you’ll need to be ready when it’s time to build.

This applies to everything in life.

Want to be a better leader? Prepare by learning how to listen, how to stay calm and think under pressure, how to help your team to be their very best.

Want to level up at work? Prepare by always sharpening your skills, staying curious, looking for problems that need solutions, becoming someone your team can rely on.

Want to be a better friend, spouse, or parent? Prepare by learning to listen, to be present, and to lead with patience and love.

Want to face hard times with strength? Prepare by choosing the hard things before they choose you.

Don’t wait for life to demand something from you before you get ready. Always prepare so you will be ready.

Ask yourself:
-What materials am I gathering?

-What tools am I building?

-What productive habits am I forming when no one’s looking?

Preparation isn’t just a phase. It’s a mindset. A lifestyle. 

You’re either gathering bricks—or you’re preparing to fail.

Because in the end, you won’t rise to the level of your ambition. 

You’ll fall to the level of your preparation.

h/t – my friend Pete Hilger as we were discussing how to get building supplies to a rural Guatemalan city for a medical facility build project.  He tossed out the line, “You can’t build a tower without first gathering a lot of bricks and mortar.”

Photo by Peyman Shojaei on Unsplash