One of my dearest friends used to say that—with a twinkle in her eye—any time someone ran down the hallway during our consulting days. "No one should be running! It's just consulting!"
It always cracked me up. Because of course, there was no fire. Just client demands, late deliverables, or someone hustling to grab a sad salad before their next meeting.
This isn't one of my old colleagues, but could have been ;) Nathan Samani on Unsplash
I think about that often—especially now, working with people in moments of transition.
Because I hear it all the time, in words or in tone:
“I need a job now. I don’t have time to experiment.” “This sounds great in theory, but I need to direct my team. I need clarity. I need answers.”
(And yes, despite doing this work for a living, I catch myself in the same trap when things aren’t happening as quickly as I’d like.)
It makes sense. Liminal spaces—those in-between moments where the old way doesn’t work and the new one hasn’t arrived—can feel like moving through thick clouds. And who wants to hang out in thick clouds?
As Morgan Freeman says in Robin Hood: “Is there no sun in this cursed country? Which way is East?” In other words: Without the sun, how are we supposed to find our bearings?
You're disoriented. You can’t see the path. And yet the urgency to move is overwhelming.
Urgency is super seductive. It makes us feel productive—even when we’re just reacting.
But here’s the paradox:
Urgency convinces us that the one thing that might help the most—experimentation—is too small or too slow to be worth it.
How can I say this politely? Urgency is lying!
Much like there was no fire in the halls of our consulting company, most of the things that present as urgent in life's transition moments are mirages.
But even if there is a fire, we still need a way forward that doesn’t leave us singed.
Because in the fog of uncertainty, there’s no map. But there’s also no clarity without movement. That's where experimentation comes in. When done well, experimentation isn’t wandering. It’s forward movement—with purpose.
And here’s the good news: Experimenting well is a skill. It’s something you can learn, hone, and trust.
So this week, try this:
Don’t start with the job search. Or the life overhaul. Or the business unit strategy. (Oh my!)
Start small. Experiment with something that doesn’t carry so much weight:
That dentist appointment you keep pushing off? Call and ask for the next available time—even if you’re not sure you’ll take it. The experiment: notice what shifts when you break the avoidance loop.
Your car’s been making a weird noise but you're anticipating a huge bill? Swing by the mechanic and ask if they can take a quick listen—exactly when you don’t have time to leave the car. The experiment: gather info without committing to a full fix.
A teammate’s request doesn’t make sense (again)? Call them for a five-minute chat instead of stewing on it. The experiment: see how quickly clarity can emerge with a simple conversation.
These low-stakes experiments build the muscle: You’re not solving—you’re learning.
Here are the two most important ingredients in an experiment:
A good experiment is targeted(it's about one thing only and can be done in a day or a week), and it includes time to reflect on what you learned.
Start where the feedback loop is fast and the outcome doesn’t matter much. Because the more you practice experimenting when it doesn’t matter, the more you’ll trust yourself when it does.
And the next time the panic rises and you feel the pull to sprint in some direction? Pause. Ask: “Where’s the fire?” Chances are, it’s just smoke. And that's your cue to experiment.
Need help experimenting? Book a call and we’ll get started.
And before you go, I'm curious...
If I made a booklet on Getting Started with Experimenting, would you...
I’m so glad you’re here! Thank you for joining me in this corner of the world where we’re committed to imperfect sideways steps that get us moving. Together, we’ll make all the sideways, backwards, and forward steps we please until we’re exactly where we hoped to be. Subscribe here:
Thoughtful insights, smart experiments, and a touch of mischief delivered Fridays. I’m Amy Bonsall—sharp questioner, creative nudger, architect of brave experiments, and liminal guide. I help high-achievers navigate the space between what was and what’s next. I’m a former IDEO exec, Harvard Business Review author, and coach to ambitious humans making quiet (and not-so-quiet) shifts. Each week, I send a short note to help you move forward—with clarity, momentum, and just the right amount of mischief.