Organisations spend considerable sums seeking external expertise, often placing their confidence in established institutions, recognised brands and familiar methodologies. Yet a consulting firm's size, its clients' reputation, or the sophistication of its presentation does not necessarily guarantee the quality of its advice.
Recent scrutiny of major consulting firms has raised serious questions about integrity, accountability, and value. It has also prompted me to consider something more fundamental. What makes someone's judgement genuinely valuable? Is it their qualifications, their experience, their professional standing, or something far less easily measured?
After more than thirty years in leadership, I have become increasingly interested in the distinction between experience and wisdom, and the value of a perspective that cannot simply be replicated. I have been pondering the word ‘provenance’ lately as a way of expressing what I have to offer. Traditionally associated with the history, origin, and authenticity of something of value, provenance resonates deeply with how I now understand my own professional contribution.
Consider a beautiful piece of vintage furniture, an original artwork or an object of exceptional craftsmanship. Its value is not simply determined by its age, appearance or function. It has a history, a story that has unfolded over time. Its character has been shaped by its origins, the hands that created it, the places it has occupied and the years it has survived.
I particularly love the idea of a distinctive vintage piece of furniture placed in a contemporary room. It may be the only piece of its kind in the space, yet somehow it brings everything together. It adds character, interest and an entirely different dimension. Its presence changes the room. It is not everyone's taste. Nor should it be. It may be a one-off piece sought after at auction, rather than something mass-produced and available for anyone to assemble.
That is how I increasingly think about the value of what I bring to organisations and clients. I come with a story. I bring more than thirty years of leadership experience, having navigated the responsibilities of executive leadership, boardrooms, organisational transformation, public accountability and the complexities of human behaviour. I bring the decisions I have made, the risks I have taken, the adversity I have encountered and the lessons that have demanded considerable personal reflection.
I bring my creative instincts, my designing mind, my business acumen and my ability to see possibilities where others may see constraints. I bring an understanding of people shaped by years of listening, observing, leading, challenging, and occasionally getting things wrong. I also bring my personality, my individuality, my values, my humour, my convictions, my determination, and my willingness to question what others may have accepted as inevitable. No catalogue can offer that particular combination. No methodology can reproduce it. No standardised approach can capture the perspective developed through an individual life and career. It has provenance.
Every individual brings a unique history, a combination of experiences, lessons and perspectives that shapes who they become. Like a personal blueprint, no two are identical. Yet the real value of provenance lies in what we have made of those experiences, and how we use them to contribute something meaningful to others. However, an important distinction exists between experience and wisdom. Experience alone does not guarantee sound judgement. Some individuals accumulate decades of professional experience without sufficiently examining their assumptions, behaviours or decisions. Longevity can produce expertise, but it can also reinforce habits that have never been challenged. I have encountered people with impressive qualifications and extensive professional histories whose judgement has nevertheless been questionable.
Wisdom requires more than time. It requires intellectual curiosity, humility, reflection and the willingness to acknowledge when we have been wrong. It requires us to examine the consequences of our decisions, understand our influence on others and remain open to learning, regardless of our seniority or achievements.
Some of the most valuable lessons of my career have not emerged from success. They have come from adversity, difficult relationships, uncomfortable decisions and circumstances that required me to reconsider what I thought I knew. I have had to do the personal work. And I continue to do it.
That is how experience develops into wisdom. It is the liquid gold of a professional life. Something you cannot manufacture quickly, buy through a qualification, or assume simply because someone has held a senior position. I believe organisations should become far more discerning about whose experience and wisdom they seek and what they are actually purchasing when they commission professional advice.
In the 21st century there is no shortage of information. Leaders are surrounded by reports, research, data, frameworks, opinions and increasingly sophisticated technology. The challenge is often determining which information matters, what has been overlooked, and how to make a decision appropriate for the people and circumstances involved.
This is the work that excites me. I love entering a complex situation, understanding its history, listening carefully, exploring possibilities and bringing together ideas that may not previously have been considered. My creative mind is as important to this work as my business acumen. I enjoy designing solutions, challenging assumptions and identifying opportunities that conventional thinking may have overlooked. I am not particularly interested in providing an answer simply because it is familiar, fashionable or easy to implement. I want to understand what is right for right now and what can sustain itself into the future. When I have moved on from a role or an organisation and see initiatives I introduced still in use years later, I recognise the enduring value of the work we undertook.
I have a strong work ethic, and I want the people who seek my advice to know that I will bring my full attention, intellect, experience and creativity to the challenge. That is also why authenticity matters. For much of our professional lives, particularly as women, there has been an expectation that success requires a degree of conformity. Be agreeable. Work hard. Be helpful. Do what is expected. Avoid making people uncomfortable. Do not challenge authority too directly. Be a good girl.
These expectations can remain remarkably influential, even when women occupy the most senior leadership positions. The habit of seeking approval, moderating opinions or accommodating others can become so deeply ingrained that individuality is gradually diminished. I have little interest in continuing that tradition. At this stage of my life and career, I am comfortable with the fact that my perspective will not appeal to everyone. I do not need it to.
There is freedom in recognising that our individuality is not something to apologise for, conceal or dilute to make ourselves more acceptable. It is often the very thing that makes our contribution valuable. I am increasingly drawn to working with people and organisations that appreciate quality, independent judgement and the richness of an individual perspective. People who are prepared to challenge conventional thinking, explore different possibilities, and invest in relationships built on mutual respect and intellectual honesty to find forward-thinking solutions.
I also admire those who are prepared to establish their own enterprises, stand behind their own names and offer something distinctive in a marketplace dominated by larger institutions and sameness. There is courage in that decision. There is also accountability. When your name is attached to your work, your reputation is inseparable from the quality of what you deliver. The relationships matter. The outcomes matter. The way the work is undertaken matters. I do not underestimate the responsibility that comes with that. Nor do I underestimate the value of individual attention.
A one-of-a-kind piece of art is not valued because it resembles everything else. A beautifully crafted vintage object does not need to compete with mass-produced alternatives on their terms. Its appeal lies in its authenticity, craftsmanship, history and the character that makes it distinctive. The same principle can apply to professional expertise and a life well lived.
Established institutions, conventional methodologies, and standardised services will always have a place. They serve important purposes. But we should also better recognise the individuals whose perspectives have been shaped by extraordinary combinations of experience, creativity, judgement, and personal history.
Not everyone will want or value that kind of advice, nor will everyone be prepared to invest in it. That is perfectly acceptable. I have reached a point in my career where I care far more about the quality of my contribution than the breadth of my appeal. The quality of my contribution is within my control. How widely it appeals to others is not, and I have little interest in allowing ego or external approval to determine its value. I want to work with people who value thoughtful conversation, are prepared to explore uncomfortable questions, and understand that genuine expertise involves more than producing a polished report or recommending a familiar solution. I want to bring something into the room that was not there before. A different perspective. A creative possibility. A challenge to an established assumption. A depth of understanding that comes from having lived, led, learned and reflected. Established systems and institutions are increasingly being challenged to demonstrate their relevance, integrity and value. The familiar approaches that once delivered success may not be sufficient for the complexity of the future. This creates opportunities for people who bring independent thinking, creativity and the courage to challenge conventional wisdom. I have navigated these challenges throughout my career, and I am excited by the opportunity to contribute differently.
Like that beautiful vintage piece of furniture in a contemporary room, I bring my own history, character, and story. I am not new, mass-produced or designed to suit every environment. I have provenance.
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