BOOK EXCERPT: The Heart of the Matter (Chapter 5)

Editor's note: Each week, the Henrico Citizen will present a new chapter of The Heart of the Matter, a forthcoming book by Gayle Turner and Shelli Jost Brady, longtime Central Virginia leadership consultants, storytellers, and community builders. Through stories and reflection, the authors explore how the values people hold and the stories they tell shape the decisions they make — at work, at home, and in communities. Follow along each week as the book unfolds, one chapter at a time.

Chapter 5 — Values are the stories that have already won

Every organization has values. Some can even name them.

Very few can tell you what those values actually look like on a Tuesday afternoon when a deadline is slipping, a customer is angry, and profit is on the line.

What most people call “values” are really aspirations.
But real values—the ones that govern behavior—are revealed in something far more tangible:

The stories that get told.
The behavior that gets rewarded.
The compromises that get excused.

In other words, values are not what you profess.
They are what actually govern decisions.

The values you claim vs. the values you live

Walk into any organization and listen for a few hours. You’ll hear the real values long before you read them on a wall.

• “That’s just how things get done around here.”
• “You don’t want to push too hard on that.”
• “They say teamwork, but promotions are solo sport.”
• “We talk integrity—until the quarter’s in trouble.”

Those sentences are not complaints. They are cultural confessions. They reveal the invisible story the organization is actually living.

Because here’s the uncomfortable truth: The stories that get repeated become the standards people follow.

A leader’s wake is always a story

Every leader leaves a wake behind them.

Not in the press releases. Not in the performance reviews. In the stories.

• “Let me tell you what happened when someone challenged her…”
• “Here’s what really matters to him…”
• “You’ll be fine as long as you don’t do this…”

Those stories outlive titles. They outlast strategies. They outlast quarterly goals.

They are the culture. Which means leaders are never merely managing operations.

They are editing the narrative of the organization in real time—whether they mean to or not.

The collision of inherited values

Most leaders assume their people “share the same values.” What they really share is a payroll system.

In truth, every team is a collision of inherited moral frameworks:

• Family systems
• Faith traditions or their absence
• Regional culture
• Previous employers
• Personal survival strategies

People don’t arrive value-neutral. They arrive pre-loaded.

And if leaders don’t name the values that govern decision-making in this culture, the strongest inherited story wins by default.

Frequently, that story is fear-based:

• Don’t rock the boat.
• Don’t be wrong.
• Don’t be first.
• Don’t be next.

Fear makes terrible values—but excellent enforcers.

Clarity is an act of moral leadership

This is why Clarity is the first pillar of The Culture Chart. Our proprietary process for improving organizational productivity.

Clarity is not branding. It’s not marketing language. It’s not wall decor.

Clarity is the moral courage to say:

• Here is what we mean by respect here.
• Here is what accountability looks like here.
• Here is how we make decisions when values collide.
• Here is who we choose to be when it costs us.

Clarity turns abstraction into expectation. It replaces assumption with alignment 

Without clarity:

• Good people drift.
• Strong performers turn toxic.
• Silence becomes policy.

With clarity:

• Behavior stabilizes.
• Trust becomes possible.
• Strategy has something concrete to align to.

Values are measurable — or they are decorative

One of the most corrosive things leaders do is talk about values in language that cannot be violated.

“Excellence.”
“Integrity.”
“Innovation.”
“Respect.”

These words sound noble—and mean almost nothing without behavior attached.

Values only become real when they become measurable behaviors:

• What does excellence look like when a mistake happens?
• What does integrity cost when no one is watching?
• What does innovation risk when failure is visible?
• What does respect require when someone is difficult?

If you can’t describe what violating a value looks like, you haven’t defined a value.

You’ve written poetry.

A clear signal

I grew up working on construction sites. My dad was a bricklayer and later a contractor. He did a lot of residential home improvement work. I started carrying brick on his jobsites the summer I turned 10. (I thought he was making a man of me. Then when I became a parent, I realized it had just been day care of the 1960’s.)

One of his employees did something one day that exhibited disrespect for a home owner’s property. I remember he whistled. He was an amazing whistler. He’d been a petty officer in the Navy, and his whistle was a loud as his Boatswain’s pipe.

He immediately had everyone’s attention. He called everyone to circle up around him. He said, “Watch my hand.”

He slowly stuck his finger in a bucket of water.

“You see my finger?”

“Watch closely.”

He slowly removed his finger from the water.

“Did you see how long the hole I made in the water lasted?”

He paused and scanned their faces.

He looked at the fellow who’s done whatever had upset him and said, “That’s how long our customers can’t get along without us. There are people lined up just waiting to do what we do.

We need our customers more than they need us. Do not take them for granted. Do not do anything that might indicate we don’t appreciate the opportunity to work on their home. Be on your best behavior. We are guests here. Respect their property.”

He paused.

“Everybody get back to work.”

In years to come, I’d hear him whistle. Men would look his way, and he would simply stick his finger in a bucket of water. When he was sure we’d seen him, he’d look at the man who had done something my dad felt had been disrespectful. He’d pull his finger out the bucket, pause, and then he’d go back to laying brick.

Occasionally, a new guy would ask, “What was that about?”

One of the men would repeat the finger in the water trick. Asking the guy to see how long the hole lasted. Then tell him, “We need our customers more than they need us. Treat their home with respect.”

All these years later, I don’t remember daddy circling us up again. But I remember the men reveling in repeating the exercise for new guys.

The message was so simple.

While we were working on their homes, we were guests, and we should behave accordingly.

Clarity does not create agreement — it creates expectation

A final truth:

Clarity does not eliminate conflict. It eliminates confusion.

People can disagree with clarity. They cannot hide behind it.

And that is exactly why it feels so dangerous to many leaders.

Because clarity removes the leader’s ability to stay ambiguous and liked at the same time. But it also removes the organization’s ability to drift.

Which is the greater gift.

Closing reflection

Values are not what you announce. They are what your people are already living.

Clarity is the moment a leader stops pretending and starts naming.

And until that happens, the stories that won yesterday will quietly rule tomorrow.

Discover what matters most to you by taking "The Culture Compass" free to discover and prioritize the values that guide your decisions; visit storytellerschannel.com/culturecompass.