It had been a long night.
We were somewhere off the coast in our small Zodiac boats headed back to the ship after another nighttime training mission. If you squinted really hard you might be able to convince yourself that you could make out a hint of light on the horizon.
The water was warm and there were no swells or waves, and we were flying across the ocean. The training had gone well but it would be nice to get back to the ship where we could get some food and go to bed.
My position in the lead boat was towards the back near the coxswain. He was a guy I had served with for a few years and we had a great relationship. He was one of my more senior guys and was responsible for all of the coxswains and mechanics. We had spent so much time together out on the water that we instinctively knew what each was doing or thinking.
There was nothing for me to do but simply be a good passenger until we got close to the ship. I was enjoying the ride when he leaned in close and said above the noise of the engine, “what’s up, sir?”
That struck me as a strange question at that moment in time. I was wet, hungry, and tired like everyone else and just shrugged my shoulders.
He said, “I thought you tapped me and needed something.” I told him I hadn’t done that and went back to my thoughts about the upcoming operation to reboard the ship.
A few seconds later the same thing happened and, with a little more edge to his voice, asked the same question. Again, I assured him I wasn’t trying to get his attention.
At that point the “conversation” took a decidedly different path. He told me he thought that I was playing games and he found it highly unprofessional. He said, “you keep tapping me and then act like you didn’t do it, like a kid would do.”
He had my attention now and with my own edgy voice I rebuffed his accusations. He knew me far better than that, and if there was one thing he couldn’t accuse me of, it was playing childish games or acting unprofessional.
I sensed we were about to get into it a bit more when one of the guys up front turned on his flashlight. In the boat were a few handfuls of small fish. Apparently, we had driven through a school of (maybe) flying fish and what he thought was me tapping him was actually a fish hitting his gear.
How quickly our tired, stressed-out brains made the wrong assumptions! How quickly a solid, well-oiled relationship was about to go off the rails because of the narratives in our heads, based on faulty information.
And I think that despite recognizing the reality of what had happened and the strange phenomenon that we had just encountered, we were still both a little perturbed with one another, which made zero sense.
Granted, this was just one long night, but we had been operating at full speed for almost two years and were all suffering from some level of chronic fatigue. You know the kind of fatigue that doesn’t go away just because you sleep in late on a Saturday morning or your boss gives you off on a Monday.
Maybe fatigue is part of leadership.
It probably always has been, especially for those who care very much about their teams and who see their role as much more than a title.
But fatigue doesn’t just make us tired — it makes us interpret the world differently. It fills in gaps with assumptions. It gives ordinary moments an edge they don’t deserve.
What I’ve since realized is that fatigue distorts perception. And when leaders are fatigued they don’t just make worse decisions - they make worse interpretations of the information they do have.
Can it be avoided? No. But what we can do is be more aware of when we are headed in that direction.
The more I work with leaders and study my own career I am more and more convinced that awareness is the key. Awareness of where we are, what we’re carrying, and how we’ve responded in the past.
Aware so that we can head things off before they (or us) go sideways - you recognize the symptoms or pattern and you can make a change.
Awareness doesn’t make the fatigue go away. But it does give us a chance to pause long enough to ask, “Is this actually happening — or am I just worn down?”
Why is this important? Because leaders like us who care very much are quick to move into that headspace where we beat ourselves up when things don’t go well. How much healthier is it to realize that “hey – I’m not broken – I’m just overwhelmed.”
And sometimes that realization is the difference between unnecessary damage and a simple course correction.
If this reflection was helpful, feel free to forward it to another leader who might appreciate it.
If something in this reflection stirred questions or feels close to where you are right now, you're welcome to book a Leadership Strategy Call - a calm, pressure-free conversation designed to help you gain clarity and a next step.
Dan
Founder, Leader First Coaching