There's Always One
People imagine controllers arrive wearing a badge.
They don't.
They arrive wearing helpfulness.
At first, everything sounds perfectly reasonable.
"Let's keep communications streamlined."
"I'll be the main point of contact."
"Clients shouldn't have to speak to different teams."
Sensible enough.
Until one day a client asks you a question.
Not because you sought them out.
Not because you bypassed anyone.
Simply because you happened to know the answer.
That's when something fascinating happens.
The question quietly stops being about the client...
...and starts becoming about who was supposed to answer it.
Ironically, clients don't consult organisation charts before sending an email.
They don't pause to consider reporting lines.
They don't ask who's senior.
They don't wonder whose inbox they're supposed to land in.
They simply contact the person they believe can help.
Most people would see that as a compliment.
Controllers wonder why the question wasn't asked through them instead.
That's where things become interesting.
The question gets answered.
The client gets what they need.
The work moves forward.
Everyone should be happy.
Except someone isn't.
Somewhere along the way, the conversation quietly changes.
It stops being about whether the client received the right answer and starts becoming about whether the answer travelled through the correct person first.
That's usually your first clue.
Blink and you'll miss it.
But the pattern remains.
You'll feel it in the atmosphere and... boof... the air shifts.
Then you realise it was there all along.
You'll know you've found a controller when solving the problem becomes less important than controlling who gets to solve it.
Controllers often confuse influence with ownership.
Influence is earned.
Ownership is assigned.
The two are not the same.
A controller isn't always interested in improving the outcome.
Quite often, they're more interested in improving the route the outcome took.
If every conversation passes through them, it reinforces the comforting belief that nothing moves without them.
It's a different kind of behaviour.
Some people call it controlling.
Others simply shrug and carry on.
Whatever name you give it, you'll notice the pattern.
Once you see it, you can't really unsee it.
Clients, rather inconveniently for controllers, have a habit of ignoring that arrangement.
They ask.
Questions get answered.
Work gets done.
Life carries on.
The funny thing about competence is that it doesn't spend much time checking reporting lines.
It simply solves the problem standing in front of it.
Clients seem rather fond of that approach.
Controllers... less so.
The newest employee often discovers this first.
Why?
Because they don't yet know the unwritten rules.
They simply answer the question.
The temptation is to take this personally.
Don't.
It's rarely about the person answering the question.
It's about the person who believes every question should have arrived on their desk first.
Leave a controller alone for long enough and they'll eventually identify themselves.
Usually by trying to control something that never needed controlling in the first place.
Fortunately, there's no need to argue.
Continue doing good work.
Remain professional.
Answer the question.
Help the client.
Carry on.
Eventually everyone notices the difference between someone who controls conversations...
...and someone who contributes to them.
If someone becomes more interested in who answered the question than the fact the question was answered...
You've found today's controller.
After all...
There's always one.
Independence isn't rebellion. To a controller, it simply looks that way.
There's Always One