Managers should ask these questions every week

Every organization lives with the risk of someone being “hit by a bus.”

What happens if your development director, programs manager, or events coordinator suddenly disappears? For most orgs, the answer is chaos.

That’s because critical processes live in someone’s head, not in a shared place. There isn’t a playbook, a checklist, or documentation in sight.

A lack of process documentation isn’t just a risk for the worst-case scenarios, but also for common ones: someone quits, goes on leave, or changes roles. In those moments, you can be stuck scrambling to piece together how things worked, falling behind for months.

People leaving the organization is inevitable. It’s sad when they’re someone who does so much, but it doesn’t have to be devastating if you document the process.

Some tips for process documentation:

• Start with the recurring tasks: Anything that happens monthly, quarterly, or annually – think reports, events, renewals, or donor touchpoints efforts – is worth documenting.
• Use a format that fits: Paragraphs of text about how something is done is rarely the best approach. Whether it’s a checklist, timeline, screen recording, flowchart, or simple bullets, make the format fit the process.
• Record the who, what, and when: Ownership and timelines around each step are just as important as the step itself. Who do you work with to do that thing? When does it happen? Capture those details.
• Perfection isn’t the goal: When you start documenting, don’t focus on making it perfect – it can be messy and a little incomplete. Get a draft, then refine it over time.
• Store it somewhere central: For most process-related info, my org uses Confluence as a “wiki,” but any platform works as long as everyone has access and knows where to find it.
• Update regularly: Processes change from time to time. Set a reminder to take a look at your process documentation and update them as needed.

I remember in college when I was a state officer for DECA. We had to generate a fifth-of-the-month report (FOMR) for our coach outlining the projects, wins, and challenges we worked through that month.

I hated them.

Then I got into the professional world and had to do more reports – some internal, some client-facing.

I still hated them.

I get it – writing a report is a big lift. Whether it’s weekly, monthly, or quarterly, they not only can take a lot of time to complete but there is always the fear of leaving something out or getting called out for something you include.

Despite their reputation, I am a big believer in weekly reports. They can be a powerful thing if done well. But most of the time they’re not. They become a formality or a Friday afternoon chore. A waste of time. The problem? No one ever explains why they’re important, or what a good one looks like. They should be seen as an opportunity to tell the story of the week.

Here’s how I approach weekly reports as a manager:

• They’re not a task list. They should tell the story of the week: progress, wins, challenges, and lessons learned. If it was a great week, the report should clearly communicate why. If it was a bad week… same thing.
• Provide a guide: If you want to avoid reports being phoned in, set clear expectations for what reports should communicate. I literally created a “good report / bad report” side-by-side comparison for my team when I noticed a pattern of unhelpful reports, and it worked.
• Good reports create better one-on-ones. The weekly report should be your pre-read for check-ins. That way, they can focus on coaching, providing context, working through challenges, and professional development – not just a project status that can be communicated another way.

When done correctly, weekly reports help leaders stay connected to what’s really happening on the team and help employees feel seen, supported, and celebrated.

Oh, by the way, managers: make sure you actually read them 😉

One of the reasons I struggled in Spanish class was that I often confused the past tense with the imperfect tense. They looked similar, sounded similar, and both referred to the past… but they weren’t interchangeable.

Strategy and tactics are like that. Easy to confuse, but they play very different roles. It’s a common mistake, and I experience it often.

Think of strategy as the destination and tactics as the directions.

A good strategic goal should be simple and brief:

Increase brand saliency with Gen Z
Diversify donor base across three new geographic regions
Create a strong culture with above-average retention rates

The tactics are in the weeds: partner with Gen Z influencers, host fundraising events in X, Y, and Z cities, launch monthly employee surveys.

A quick gut check to help differentiate the two:

• If changing it would shift the overall goal, it’s the strategy
• If changing it would leave the goal intact but change how you get there, it’s a tactic

Strategy sets the direction, and tactics are the steps. If you and your team aren’t clear on the difference, you’ll end up debating details when you should be defining goals.

The great Stoic philosopher, Marcus Aurelius, said that. And I forget it all the time.

Like when my partner loads the dishwasher in a way that makes my eye twitch. After all, I’ve spent almost a decade figuring out the most optimized way to load the dishwasher, and they’re throwing dishes in there like it’s a trash bin.

This is how I’m wired – and I know it’s not always easy to be around. But I value order and systems. I like things done with care, done efficiently, and done right. And I hold myself to that standard.

A problem arises, though, when I hold others to this high standard. I expect people to think the same way, act the same way, and have the same general mindset. And, surprise, that leads to way more frustration than contentment.

When I get too rigid about how others should operate, I’ve noticed that resentment begins to creep in. I start to feel frustrated and silently hold people to expectations they never agreed to. I get annoyed when they don’t approach things the way I would.

That’s not leadership. That’s immaturity. And it’s something I wanted to share that I’m working on in case anyone else relates to this dynamic.

The Stoics got it right – focus only on what you can control – even if that’s easier said than done.

Imagine you’re in a race with competitors flanking you on both sides.

After the starting pistol goes off, there’s a strong temptation to keep an eye on them. You want to see how fast they’re going, whether they’re gaining ground on you. But the more you look, the more you lose your own rhythm and risk stumbling behind.

I’ve seen the same thing happen to organizations and individuals alike. They have competitors – or peers – that they can’t stop keeping an eye on. Maybe it’s FOMO, or just traditional fear, but with every bit of ground a competitor seems to gain, there’s a risk of losing focus on your own lane.

Competitors exist, of course. Awareness is smart, but constant reaction is not.

You need to know your space and who’s in it, but you also need to establish your lane and own it. Someone else’s path is not the path for you. Comparison often disguises itself as clarity, but it usually leads to distraction, loss of direction, and even resentment

Run your own race in your own lane.

That $5 donor can become one of your biggest donors.

That new follower can become your future business partner.

The shy intern may run the organization one day.

I’ve been amazed in my career at what the small moments can turn into with some cultivation and patience.