Erich Stauffer

Tag: systems

  • Authority, Winning, and the Cost of Staying Adjacent

    This morning clarified something I’ve been circling for years but never named plainly: I have optimized for system impact, not personal authority.

    I’m very good at building, fixing, and stabilizing systems. I improve organizations, help leaders think more clearly, and quietly make things work. But I’ve done this while standing adjacent to power instead of occupying it:

    • Advisor instead of owner
    • Architect instead of authority
    • Reliable #2 energy instead of explicit responsibility with upside

    That pattern used to make sense, but it is no longer congruent with who I am.

    Earlier in life, staying adjacent gave me flexibility, safety, and moral insulation. I could contribute without exposure. I could help without risking visible failure. I could preserve an identity built around service, intelligence, and restraint. It worked—until it didn’t.

    What’s changed is not my capacity, but the gap between who I am and how I’m positioned. That gap is now emotionally expensive. It shows up as frustration, quiet resentment, and the sense that I’m under-leveraged. At this stage, capability without outcomes doesn’t read as humility anymore—it reads as incongruence.

    The hardest realization is that not winning has been an emotional strategy. Losing—or at least not fully claiming victory—kept me morally clean and relationally safe. But the cost was real: borrowed authority, capped upside, and leadership that I donate instead of own.

    What once looked virtuous is now avoidance wearing a service costume.

    Here’s the reframe that landed hardest for me: for someone like me, winning is load-bearing.

    When capable people refuse authority, less capable systems stay in charge and entropy increases. Responsibility without power becomes the norm.

    Winning, rightly defined, isn’t dominance or ego—it’s stewardship. It’s aligning authority with responsibility so systems actually stabilize (instead of limping along).

    This internal shift then let me connect directly to recent geographic and social friction. A regional analysis made it obvious to me that I’m trying to regulate myself in environments that don’t reward execution or ownership. La Crosse and similar Driftless towns prioritize values, relationships, and moral signaling over outcomes. That’s not wrong—but it’s costly for someone wired to build, ship, and take responsibility.

    Madison and Rochester stand out not because they’re glamorous, but because there competence carries weight. Execution is expected. Outcomes matter. Accountability is normal. The insight isn’t “I need to move tomorrow,” but that I need periodic immersion in consequence-dense environments to recalibrate my nervous system and expectations. Without that, resentment builds and clarity erodes.

    The through-line is uncomfortable but clean: this isn’t a motivation problem. It’s an identity lag. I was still operating with rules designed for an earlier season—rules that prioritize safety and flexibility—while my calling now requires ownership, visibility, and measurable outcomes.

    At this point, refusing to win isn’t neutral. It quietly undermines authority, credibility, and self-trust. Winning isn’t about ego anymore. It’s about accepting stewardship of the systems I’m already capable of carrying.

  • The Gristmill at Spring Mill State Park

    This is a guest post written by Zac Parsons:

    On June 22, 2009, Erich and I decided to meet in person to do some hiking, planning, and bonding at Spring Mill State Park in Mitchell, IN.  It was also Erich’s birthday, the second official day of summer, and a beautiful day to be outside.  By the end of the day, we realized that our experience itself was actually interesting enough to write about (and hopefully interesting enough to read).  We decided to write about our accounts separately, to see where our perceptions of the same days events would take us.  What would I write about?  What was meaningful and impactful to him?  Where would we be similar?  Where would we differ?  Erich’s thoughts, (which I have not read, at the time of this writing) can be found here.

    We grabbed a map, and headed out on the trail closest to where we had parked.  As we walked and talked about the future of our business, we crossed a bridge over a muddy river.

    We mused over what could have caused it to become so dirty, and  never really came to a conclusion.  What we did conclude was that in order for the river to become clean again, the dirty water would have to run its course.  If we were to dam up the river, then we would have a dirty lake.  Not much of a solution if we got thirsty (which we were starting to).  It was an interesting object lesson for us on the messes of life that we find ourselves in.  Even when we decide that the water is dirty, we have to let life keep running while we allow the clean water to slowly come back in and take over.

    Continuing on down the trail, and continuing with our conversation, we eventually found ourselves in the middle of an early 19th century village, restored and preserved for visitors like us to observe and explore.  It was a welcome surprise for me, as I just expected trees, rivers, and trails like in the picture above.  There was an old school house, sawmill, leather mill, tavern, pottery shop, and more.  In the middle of it, we came across a huge water wheel next to a three story building.  Erich wondered how long it had been since the wheel was in operation.  Well, we were about to find out.

    httpvhd://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2NgHaWvm86c

    Watching the man slide the cog into the system was fascinating.  Not the physical act itself, but just realization that this huge machine absolutely depended on this small piece in order to function properly, if at all.  The power of the water was being used to grind corn into meal for the rest of the village.  If the little cog broke down, the people wouldn’t starve, but they would have had to work harder for their corn meal.  I immediately applied it to other situations in my life and business where things were not optimal.

    It’s a question that we all have to deal with:  Is there a piece damaged or mission, or is the entire system broken?  Sometimes, we make huge changes in our lives, and we throw out a system that seems to be broken.  Often it is just a cog, or a gear that needs to be tweaked or replaced, and not the whole thing.  You may have heard this being called “throwing the baby out with the bathwater”.  Just because you have identified a problem, does not mean that that problem is systemic.  Look closely at the gears, cogs, pulleys, levers, and tools you use in your life.  Your thoughts, habits, experiences, expectations, beliefs, relationships, attitudes, etc.  Perhaps more attention being paid to just one of these “cogs” count significantly change your system, whether it is your life, or your business.

    Erich and I continued discussing the gristmill as we hiked around the park.  We saw an astronaut memorial, some caves, a graveyard, and got a nice little workout in the process.  My relationship with Erich was good before.  We email constantly, comment on each other’s articles, and speak on the phone.  But, this face to face meeting added a new dimension to our relationship (system), bringing in new pulleys and sinews that connect us.  Everything is a system.  Everything is a balancing act.  Everything has a tipping point.  By the end, we relaxed with some Cherry Coke Zero and let our bodies recuperate.  It’s all a part of the system.