Your Board of Directors Doesn’t Need a Title: Learning From Exemplars Changes Everything

At some point, we all need a North Star—a sense of what 'right' looks like when left to our own devices. Early in your career, maybe you lucked into working beside a master: someone who raised the standard in every discussion, who listened twice as long before offering critique, who calmly handled chaos. You noticed their effect almost immediately—the team was sharper, the results steadier—but you never quite figured out how they did it.

Years later, in a funk, you revisit the lessons you learned from them. You list not only their technical skills but the habits and attitudes you aspire to: their refusal to gossip, their relentless preparation, their willingness to praise quietly but critique in private. Catching yourself on the edge of a half-hearted workday, you pause and ask, 'How would they handle this slump?' You force yourself to run through their likely choices and, just once, copy their move. The day shifts.

Soon, this becomes routine: you add figures from a book, a sports legend, even a grandparent, to your imaginary board of directors. In low-stakes trials—careful emails, drafting practice essays, awkward conversations—you test their approaches, adjusting for your own context. Most days, you don't execute perfectly, but you notice improvement.

Social learning is one of the oldest forms of behavior change, and classic research shows that “modelling” high performers—especially those who combine competency with character—shortens your learning curve dramatically. Treating your life as a series of small experiments, where you channel your 'personal board,' both increases your confidence and signals to others what’s possible.

Tonight or tomorrow, name three people whose way of handling challenges you truly admire. Identify the exact quality you want to borrow—and in your next tricky moment, stop just long enough to ask what that person would say or do if they were in your shoes. Don’t wait for a crisis—this is best tested in safe, sandbox settings. Try this out in the small interludes—a tough group project, a difficult email draft, a tense family dinner—and write a quick note about the outcome. You’re building your own playbook, one mini-experiment at a time.