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I remember a client—let’s call her Tasha—who had just stepped into her first real leadership role.

She’d been the reliable one for years. The one who always met deadlines, solved problems quietly, picked up the slack. When her boss offered her a management position, it felt like a natural next step. She didn’t celebrate—she got to work.

But a few months in, she was unraveling.

“They just don’t care,” she told me one day. “I shouldn’t have to chase them down to do their jobs. I don’t want to be a babysitter.”

She wasn’t yelling. She wasn’t dramatic. She was tired. Bitter. Frustrated in the way that sneaks in when you’ve done everything “right” and still nothing’s working.

That bitterness had a particular flavor. I’ve come to call it mustard.

What Mustard Looks Like

Mustard adds bite. A little is fine—even great—on a sandwich or stirred into the right sauce. But in management, it doesn’t belong. That sharp, acidic edge—judgment, resentment, frustration—might start small, but it spreads fast. And once it takes over, it smothers your ability to support, strategize, even succeed.

It doesn’t feel like judgment at first. It feels like reason. Like standards. Like clarity.

“They’re adults.”

“I shouldn’t have to spell everything out.”

“Why don’t they care as much as I do?”

But underneath that is something sour. And if left unspoken, it settles in as resentment.

It clouds how you see people. It warps how you communicate. It makes everything harder than it has to be.

I’ve seen it again and again—especially in new managers who have always been high performers. People who were dependable, driven, self-directed. That intensity helped them stand out when they were responsible for their own work. But once they’re responsible for others, that same sharpness can turn inward—and start corroding trust from the inside.

They look around and see missed deadlines, dropped balls, people who seem to need more hand-holding than they ever did—and the judgment creeps in. They start thinking things like: I wouldn’t need to be reminded. I would’ve seen this coming. I would’ve done it right the first time.

That’s when mustard takes over.

The Shift That Hurts

No one tells you how much has to change when you shift from doing the work to managing it.

You’re still the same person—still capable, still clear, still committed—but now, the work is different. You’re not just completing tasks. You’re creating clarity, setting expectations, noticing patterns, and helping others follow through.

And that requires a shift in perspective.

The problem is, most managers don’t get support for that shift. They’re promoted because they’re great at what they do, then thrown into leadership and expected to figure it out. And when people don’t meet their expectations, they take it personally. They stew. They pull back. They try to carry it all themselves.

That’s where judgment festers.

Where Clarity Begins

Here’s the hard truth I’ve learned over years of coaching: judgment is comforting.

It makes us feel like we’re right. Like we’re the only ones who get it. But it also isolates us. It blocks connection. And it rarely moves anything forward.

The real shift doesn’t happen when a manager “lets go of judgment” all at once. It happens when they finally speak clearly. When they stop hoping people will just get it and start naming what “it” is.

That’s what happened with Tasha. Her turning point wasn’t internal. It was practical. She finally told her team, “Here’s what I expect. Here’s when it’s due. And here’s what happens if it doesn’t happen.”

It wasn’t mean. It wasn’t controlling. It was clear. And that clarity changed everything.

People stepped up—not because they suddenly cared more, but because now they knew what was expected and what it meant to fall short. They didn’t have to guess anymore. Neither did she.

A Quick Self-Check

If you’re leading people—or trying to—and finding yourself stuck in frustration, ask yourself:

>> Have I clearly said what I want?

>> Have I said it more than once?

>> Have I explained what happens if they don’t meet expectations?

>> Have I offered support to help them succeed?

>> Am I holding onto a story about their attitude—or focusing on what they need?

>> Am I reacting to what they’re doing—or what I’m feeling?

There’s an AA saying I love—someone I know is in the program—that puts it this way:

“Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.”

If you’ve been carrying that sharpness, you’re not alone. It makes sense. You’ve worked hard to get where you are. You care. You show up. You want things done well.

But that bite—the judgment, the frustration—it won’t get you what you want.

It just keeps you stuck.

What Real Leadership Looks Like

Management isn’t about intensity or hyper-responsibility.

It’s about learning to see clearly—even when it’s uncomfortable.

It’s about choosing care over control. Clarity over resentment.

It’s about letting go of the sharpness that once served you, so you can lead from something deeper.

Not because it’s easy.

But because you’re ready.

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