Inability to make decisions is one of the principal reasons

Host: The office was bathed in fluorescent twilight — the kind of sterile glow that made everything look colder than it was. Rain streaked the tall windows, turning the city skyline into a blur of gray and motion. Inside, the hum of the air conditioner filled the silence between two people who had spent the day dissecting numbers, deadlines, and themselves.

Jack, his jacket draped over a chair, stood by the window, staring down at the streets below. His tie loosened, his jaw clenched, his eyes reflecting both the lights of the city and the weight of a choice he hadn’t made. Across the long mahogany table, Jeeny sat, her laptop closed, hands folded neatly, watching him. The faint click of the clock on the wall marked every passing second — each one heavier than the last.

Jeeny: (softly) “You know, John C. Maxwell once said, ‘Inability to make decisions is one of the principal reasons executives fail.’”

Jack: (without turning) “I know the quote. It’s printed on half the management posters in this building.”

Jeeny: “Maybe that’s because no one listens to it.”

Host: Jack exhaled, long and heavy, the kind of breath that carried more exhaustion than air. He turned, eyes sharp but weary.

Jack: “You think I don’t want to decide? You think I enjoy standing in the middle of a minefield, knowing whichever step I take could blow up a year’s worth of work?”

Jeeny: “Wanting to decide isn’t the same as doing it. Paralysis feels noble when it’s just fear dressed in caution.”

Host: Her voice was calm, but her eyes burned with conviction. The room, quiet as confession, seemed to lean in.

Jack: “Fear keeps companies alive, Jeeny. One wrong decision — one bad call — and we’re done. I’ve seen it happen.”

Jeeny: “You’ve seen leaders fall because they hesitated, Jack. Not because they chose wrong. There’s a difference between falling from action and fading from indecision.”

Host: A pause hung between them. Outside, lightning flashed, illuminating their faces for a brief, electric second. Jack’s shadow stretched long across the carpet, touching the edge of Jeeny’s chair.

Jack: “You always make it sound easy. Like courage is some switch you just flip.”

Jeeny: “It’s not easy. But it’s necessary. Every great leader — every real one — knew that clarity only comes after you jump, not before.”

Jack: (snapping) “And if you jump the wrong way?”

Jeeny: “Then you learn how to land.”

Host: Jack’s hands tightened into fists on the windowsill. The rain outside fell harder, streaking down the glass like veins of silver. He looked like a man cornered by his own intellect — too smart to move, too proud to admit he was afraid.

Jack: “You think that’s leadership? Gambling?”

Jeeny: “No. It’s responsibility. You’re confusing control with wisdom. Real leaders know they can’t control outcomes — only choices.”

Host: The clock ticked louder now, as if counting down to something unseen. Jeeny stood, walking slowly toward the window, her heels soft against the carpet.

Jeeny: “You remember the Challenger launch, 1986? Engineers warned the O-rings might fail in the cold. Executives delayed the decision, pushed it off, hoping someone else would decide. They didn’t want the blood on their hands — so it ended up on all of them.”

Jack: “That’s not fair—”

Jeeny: “It’s reality. Indecision is still a decision, Jack. It just costs more lives.”

Host: Her words struck him like a door slammed in the dark. He looked away, jaw tightening, but the truth in her tone lingered like the scent of ozone after thunder.

Jack: “You think I don’t feel that pressure? Every department depends on this call — every job, every paycheck. One word from me could change everything.”

Jeeny: “Then say the word.”

Jack: (shaking his head) “You don’t understand. If I’m wrong—”

Jeeny: (cutting him off) “If you’re wrong, at least you were something. A leader who tried. Not a ghost waiting for the perfect forecast.”

Host: Lightning flared again, brighter this time, followed by the deep rumble of thunder. The office lights flickered, and for a second, everything — the table, the files, the fear — was bathed in pure white clarity.

Jeeny: (softly, almost pleading) “Do you know what indecision does, Jack? It rots the heart. It turns brilliance into bureaucracy. It makes cowards out of thinkers.”

Jack: (voice low, almost broken) “You talk like you’ve never made a mistake.”

Jeeny: “I’ve made plenty. But every mistake taught me how to decide faster the next time. You — you analyze until the truth drowns in data.”

Host: The rain softened, the storm beginning to pass, but the air inside was thicker — like something vital was about to shift.

Jack: (sitting slowly) “You think Maxwell was right? That the real failure isn’t ignorance, but hesitation?”

Jeeny: “Completely. Knowledge can be learned. Courage has to be chosen.”

Host: She sat across from him again, but this time, there was no distance between them — only the quiet hum of shared understanding. Jack’s eyes, once sharp and defiant, had turned inward, heavy with reflection.

Jack: (quietly) “I used to think leadership meant knowing everything. Now I see it means daring when you don’t.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. That’s why the greats are remembered — not because they were right, but because they acted. Because they took the shot when everyone else waited.”

Host: Jack leaned forward, elbows on the table, staring at the file before him — the one decision he’d avoided for weeks. His hand trembled slightly as he opened it.

Jack: “Do you ever get tired of believing in people like me?”

Jeeny: (softly smiling) “Never. Because belief is the one decision I’ve never regretted.”

Host: The clock stopped ticking — or maybe he just stopped hearing it. He reached for the pen. For a heartbeat, the room went utterly still, as if time itself were holding its breath.

Then, he signed.

One line. One decision. One release.

Jeeny: (whispering) “There it is.”

Jack: (exhaling) “Feels… terrifying.”

Jeeny: “That’s how you know it’s real.”

Host: The rain eased into a drizzle, then into silence. Outside, the city lights shimmered, blurred but alive — like a reflection of something new. Jack leaned back, the tension leaving his shoulders slowly, as if the weight of inaction had been heavier than the risk itself.

Jeeny: “You did it.”

Jack: “No. We did it.”

Jeeny: “No, Jack — you chose. That’s the difference.”

Host: A faint smile broke across his face — the kind that wasn’t pride, but peace. Jeeny watched, her eyes filled with quiet triumph, as if she’d just witnessed something far more important than a business decision.

Jack: “Funny, isn’t it? All this time, I thought the worst thing was making the wrong choice. Turns out the worst thing is not making one at all.”

Jeeny: “Welcome to leadership.”

Host: The camera would pan out now, leaving them in the soft hum of the office — papers scattered, coffee cold, but spirits alive. Outside, the storm clouds parted, revealing a sliver of moonlight over the glass towers.

And as the scene faded, Maxwell’s words lingered like a final verdict, spoken not as warning, but as truth lived and learned:

The mind can analyze forever,
but the heart decides when the moment has come.
Leaders don’t wait for certainty —
they build it by choosing.