My attrition rate has been zero for the last three years.

In this industry, that’s rare. People move fast. Offers fly around.
But my team stayed. I was proud of that. Still am.

It felt like proof I was doing something right—creating a space where people felt supported, where we delivered, where we stuck together.

But recently, I’ve started asking myself a harder question:
At what cost?

Earlier tonigh at 10:25 PM, one of my team members called. I picked up, and she said she wanted to give me an update.

Earlier that day, I had shared a simple message with the team:
“I’m out of office due to a death in my family. Please direct urgent requests to Sandip.”

So I asked her: “Did you see my message?”
She said yes.
I said, “Please respect that.”
She apologized, paused, and hung up.

I’ve thought a lot about that moment since.

She meant well. She’s proactive, responsible, thoughtful.
She wasn’t being disrespectful—she just assumed I’d want to be kept in the loop. That I’d still be available, because I usually am.
And that made me pause.

It reminded me how easily we shape a culture without meaning to.
We don’t need to say “call me anytime”—people pick it up from how we behave.
From the late replies. From the constant presence. From never really logging off.

And I get it. I’ve tried to be approachable. Supportive. Always there.
But being available all the time isn’t the same as being present in the right moments.
It’s not the culture I want to build.

It also reminded me of someone I really admire: JĂĽrgen Klopp.
He doesn’t just manage football—he manages people.
He protects his players when they need it. He knows when to push, and when to pull back. He builds teams that fight for each other, not just for results.
That’s the kind of leadership that lasts.

So no—this moment wasn’t about the update.
It was a small thing that revealed a deeper truth:
We teach people how to treat each other by how we show up. Even in silence.

And for me, this reflection came on a hard night—just hours after I lost my grandmother.
I wasn’t planning to write anything. But maybe that’s when these things surface.
When you’re forced to pause.
When everything’s a bit quieter.
And you start seeing things a little more clearly.

I’m not sharing this to make a point.
Just to say: I’m learning, too.

And I hope we all keep building teams where it’s not just okay to pause—
but where people actually feel it’s okay to pause.

Especially when it matters.