Why curiosity may be one of leadership’s most overlooked capabilities
I’ve been thinking recently about how quickly our minds create stories.
It happens so quietly that we often don’t notice it. We see a situation, gather only a handful of facts and then begin filling in the spaces ourselves. Before long, we’ve created a version of events that feels entirely believable, despite knowing very little at all.
I caught myself doing exactly that a few weeks ago.
As our businesses continue to evolve, we’ve been reviewing many of the systems and partnerships that will support the next chapter of our journey. One of those projects involved finding a new accounting and tax partner, so we approached several firms with the same enquiry.
Most of the responses came from partners or directors. One came from someone whose title was Junior Specialist.
The story in my mind appeared almost immediately.
Perhaps our enquiry hadn’t been considered important enough to receive the attention of someone more senior. Perhaps we were simply another name on a list.
It’s remarkable how convincing these stories can feel when they are built on almost no evidence at all.
Fortunately, another thought arrived before those assumptions had the opportunity to settle.
What if none of this was true?
It was such a simple question, but it changed everything. Instead of allowing my assumptions to decide what happened next, I decided to become curious.
Over the weeks that followed, I found myself getting to know someone who listened carefully, asked thoughtful questions and was completely comfortable saying, “I’m not sure, but I’ll find out.”
There was no need to impress. No need to have every answer. There was simply a genuine commitment to understanding our business and serving us well.
As the conversations continued, something unexpected happened. I realised that I wasn’t simply evaluating a potential professional partner. I was learning from them.
Not because they had decades more experience than I did, but because curiosity has a way of inviting curiosity in return. Their questions encouraged me to think more deeply about our own business, while their willingness to keep learning reminded me that confidence and humility can coexist beautifully.
The experience stayed with me long after the business conversations had ended. It reminded me of the many people who quietly shaped my own journey.
When I look back over my career, I don’t remember everyone who occupied the most senior positions. I remember the people who made time for me when they didn’t have to. The people who answered questions that probably seemed obvious to them. The people who treated me as though my contribution mattered before I had accumulated the experience or confidence I would later grow into.
Their generosity became part of my story. I suspect most of us can think of people like that. Perhaps that’s why this recent experience touched me more deeply than I expected. It reminded me that every person we meet is carrying a story we cannot yet see. Their title tells us very little. Their age tells us very little. Even first impressions reveal only the smallest part of who they are. The rest can only be discovered if we are willing to stay curious for a little longer.
The older I become, the less interested I am in reaching quick conclusions. I’d rather understand more slowly. I’d rather leave room to be surprised. Because some of the people who have changed my thinking most profoundly have not been the people I expected to teach me anything at all.
They were simply the people I almost missed. Perhaps that’s one of the quiet invitations life continues to offer us.
To notice our own stories before we believe them. To remain open to what we do not yet know. And to remember that every person we encounter has the potential to leave us different from the way they found us, if only we are willing to pay attention.
