The $7M Mistake That Built Trust
The $7M Mistake
That Built Trust
Ask an Implementation Genius how they knew exactly what to say in that town hall, email, or budget hearing, and you’ll usually get the same answer. A shrug. Then something like, “I just felt it.”
That’s what the Utilities Director told us, right after he’d stood before his Board to admit a $7 million mistake he and his staff had made.
“I just felt it” is a bewildering answer if you’re trying to learn Consent-Building, especially if your goal is to become one of these Implementation Geniuses: the kind who can turn public wrath into trust and respect.
New students can’t help but want to know what to do?… Invariably, they ask “what should we do to get more people to trust our team and expertise?” And are naturally frustrated to hear our non-answer answer: It’s hard to say…
SDIC (the Systematic Development of Informed Consent) is the step-by-step process we teach for exactly that reason.
But here’s the catch –
Practicing SDIC, not just understanding it, turns students into agents of change. Once that shift happens, something strange occurs… Explaining how they prevent or defuse conflict becomes much harder, even for Implementation Geniuses themselves.
Take Phil, the Utilities Director behind that $7 million blunder…
Only he and a few members of his IT department knew about it, and that fixing it would cost several million more ratepayer dollars on top of the original loss.
A fumble of a few hundred thousand dollars would already make headlines statewide. What would mismanaging millions cost him and his team? In respect. In credibility. In their jobs…?
Certain the Board and ratepayers would want his head once word got out, Phil worried about something else: the loss of trust his team and the utility would take in this staunchly anti-government Colorado community.
Before you read on: what would you do in Phil’s situation?
And what did this Consent-Building student, turned Implementation Genius, actually do?
How did he not only save his job, but leave the utility more trusted than before?
What might be more instructive is what he didn’t do.
Phil didn’t:
- Bury the $7 million blunder in accounting gibberish.
- Describe the mess in jargon City Council and the public would struggle to follow.
- Defend the mistake, then impress everyone with a detailed fix.
- Sell himself as the only one who could get things back on track.
- Sandwich the bad news between a list of other wins.
- Spin it, PR-style, into someone else’s fault.
Instead, Phil and his team did something simpler.
He and his team followed the systematic steps we taught them, working through what made this situation so threatening to their credibility and effectiveness.
Somewhere in that process, they developed a gut-sense of exactly what needed to be said. In that room. To that Council. At that moment.
Did Phil get fired? Publicly vilified? Admonished by Council?
None of the above.
What would’ve been disastrous for most of us, Phil and his team turned into an achievement.
He didn’t just demonstrate his understanding of Consent-Building in that meeting. He embodied it, using the disaster to build more trust, legitimacy, and respect than he’d had walking in.
Phil and his team only needed Consent-Building, not a specific technique, to turn a disaster into a means for earning trust.
There was no magic script. No technical data buried in his slides. No sidebar conversations to manage the story beforehand. No time for any other outreach tactics.
He simply told the Board about the mistake he’d made and took responsibility himself rather than fingerpointing his staff.
And how did the elected officials react?
Instead of calling for Phil’s head, City Council praised and thanked him.
That reaction wasn’t an accident, and it wasn’t a misunderstanding. It came from Phil’s deep sense of precisely what Council needed to hear; something no formal presentation could have delivered.
That’s where Phil crossed over: from an average Consent-Building student to a bona fide Implementation Genius.
As with other students, somewhere between understanding the theory and actually living it, something shifted for Phil. The concept turned into a kind of sixth-sense, one that only comes from practicing SDIC.
Having that gut-sense is a tremendous asset for those who’ve developed it, and a source of real frustration for those who haven’t.
What we find most fascinating is this: practicing the systematic steps seems to produce a skill that can’t be taught directly. And it’s that skill that turns even the biggest blunders into something more powerful than Informed Consent: credibility and trust, even when things have gone terribly wrong.
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