𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗗𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗦𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗸 (𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗪𝗵𝘆 𝗜𝘁 𝗪𝗮𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝗢𝘂𝗿 𝗙𝗮𝘂𝗹𝘁)

Years ago, management decided we were going to give report at the bedside instead of at the nurse's station.

We hated it.

We were already drowning: high acuity, too many patients, a 12-hour shift that never actually ended at 12 hours. And now this. One. More. Thing.

So we pushed back. 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙.

Looking back,  I think about it now, as a coach: we won. Sort of. We did it for a few weeks, and then we quietly drifted right back to report at the nurse's station.

No one stopped us. The change just…evaporated.

For years, I assumed that was on us. We were the resistant staff; the nurses who wouldn't get on board.

I don't know that I believe that anymore.

That change didn't fail because we were difficult, but because no one made it clear, meaningful, or doable. And those three things aren't personality traits, but a failing approach by leadership.

Chip and Dan Heath have a framework called Switch that explains why change sticks or slips. They split it into three parts—the Rider, the Elephant, and the Path.

Allow me to make this relatable to the unit.....

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗥𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱𝘀 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆. In our ER, no one ever told us what "good" bedside report actually looked like. Who's in the room? How long does this take? What do we say, what do we skip? We were left to guess and a tired brain that has to guess will 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 default to what's comfortable aka the nurse's station. 

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗘𝗹𝗲𝗽𝗵𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱𝘀 𝗽𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗲. We were told to do it. We were never told why in a way we could feel. No one connected bedside report to the patient who didn't get hurt because two nurses caught something at the door. People don't move because the policy says so, but when the change means something to them.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗣𝗮𝘁𝗵 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝘃𝗶𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴. Honestly? It was clunky. No script, no rhythm, slower than the old way every single time. And when the new behavior is harder than the old habit, the old habit wins. Every time. That's more than a resistant staff, that's human wiring.

Here's what I want you to sit with: when your people resist a change, it's tempting to read it as attitude. A buy-in problem. A "these nurses just don't want to" problem.

But most of the time, it isn't a people problem at all. It's a clarity problem, an energy problem, or a systems problem...and all three of those land on the leader's desk, not theirs.

That reframe changes everything, because a people problem feels hopeless. A clarity problem is fixable within the near future.

So this week, pick one change on your unit that isn't sticking and ask:

🔵 Where are they having to guess what "good" looks like?

🔵 Where have I told them what to do, but never helped them feel why it matters?

🔵 Where is the old way still easier than the new way?

Whatever's missing, I want to challenge your perspective that the staff is failing you and take it as an opportunity as the next thing for you to lead with confidence and empathy.

And leading that way doesn't add weight to people who are already carrying too much. It lifts some of it off.

Here's the part that breaks my heart, because it's so avoidable: the change quietly dies, the leader decides the team "just won't get on board," and everyone goes back to plum exhausted, except a little more resentment lingers on both sides.

I'm telling you this because I think you're already the kind of leader who can do it differently.  The next time a change stalls, resist the pull to make it about your people. Nine times out of ten, what's missing isn't their effort. It's a clear next step. And honestly? It's just easier. On all of you.

Warmly,

Ilene

𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐲. 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲. 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐭.

PS.  {𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘥, 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴...𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘰.}