Instructions not Included

When You Need Someone to Show You How (And When You Need Space to Figure It Out)

Over Christmas, I got given a model bicycle as a table gift. Properly excited about it, I was. The kind of miniature replica that sits on your desk and makes you look like you have interesting hobbies.

I opened the box expecting maybe 10-15 pieces and some straightforward instructions. What I found instead was what can only be described as a mechanical crime scene. Dozens of tiny pieces scattered across the table. Screws the size of rice grains. Components I couldn't even name. And absolutely no instructions on how any of it went together.

I tried for a few minutes, thinking surely I could work it out. I mean, how hard could it be? It's a bike. I know what bikes look like. Frame, wheels, handlebars. Easy.

Except there were these odd-shaped brackets and mysterious little metal rods and at least four different types of screws that all looked vaguely similar but definitely weren't interchangeable. I had no idea where anything went or in what order. The frustration was building quickly.

I was genuinely about to pack it all back in the box and declare it a lost cause when I noticed something on the bit of paper that came with the parts. A QR code.

Scanned it. Found detailed step-by-step instructions online, complete with diagrams showing exactly what went where. Twenty minutes later, I had a fully assembled model bicycle sitting on my desk, looking rather pleased with itself.

What I Learned About Help

Here's what struck me afterwards: what I needed in that moment was absolutely not coaching.

A coach would have been brilliant at helping me think through my options. They'd have asked me what resources I had available, what approaches I'd used before when assembling things, what my plan was for moving forward. They might have helped me notice my growing frustration and find a better mindset to approach the problem.

All useful stuff. All genuinely valuable. But none of it would have gotten me from a pile of disconnected pieces to a functioning model.

What got me there was clear instruction. A process. Diagrams showing me exactly what to do and in what order. What I needed was someone (or in this case, something) acting as a consultant, sharing expertise I didn't have and couldn't quickly develop on my own.

And yes, what was missing was a 4-box grid, because all good consultants do love a 4-box grid.

The Challenge of Knowing Which

This is something I think about constantly in my work. I operate in both modes, coach and consultant, often with the same clients. And the challenge isn't being good at both. The challenge is knowing which is appropriate and when.

Sometimes people come to me needing frameworks. They're building talent strategies or designing leadership programmes or trying to make sense of organisational complexity. They need expertise, clear process, something that works. What they need is consulting.

Other times, what they really need is space. Space to think without someone jumping in with solutions. Space to look at problems in a different way. Space to find their own answers rather than having mine imposed on them. What they need is coaching.

The tricky bit is that it's not always obvious from the outside which one is needed. And sometimes it changes mid-conversation.

When Instruction Isn't Enough

I've seen this go wrong in both directions.

I've watched consultants deliver brilliant frameworks to clients who weren't ready to hear them, who needed to arrive at the answer themselves for it to actually land. All that expertise, wasted because the timing was off.

And I've seen coaches maintain their questioning stance when someone is drowning and just needs to be thrown a bloody rope. There's a time for curiosity and exploration, and there's a time for "look, here's what's worked before, try this."

If I'd tried to coach myself through building that bike, asking myself reflective questions about my relationship with instruction manuals and my tolerance for ambiguity, I'd probably still be staring at the pieces. And if I'd consulted my way through a situation that needed deeper exploration, bringing in frameworks before understanding the real issue, I'd have solved the wrong problem entirely.

The Instinct That Makes the Difference

The skill I'm constantly developing is the instinct to switch between modes. To recognise in the moment what's actually needed.

Sometimes that means putting down the coaching hat mid-conversation and saying "look, I've seen this before, here's what worked." Other times it means resisting the urge to jump in with solutions and instead sitting with the discomfort of not knowing.

It's not about being rigidly one thing or the other. It's about being fluid enough to respond to what the situation requires.

What This Means for You

If you're leading right now and feeling stuck, it's worth asking yourself: what kind of help do I actually need here?

Do you need expertise you don't have? Frameworks that work? Clear instruction on how to approach something you've never done before? Then you probably need consulting.

Or do you need space to think? Someone who'll ask you uncomfortable questions and trust you to find your own answers? Time to explore the problem properly before jumping to solutions? Then you probably need coaching.

Both are valuable. Neither is better. But they're different, and knowing which you need matters.

And if you're not sure which you need, that's fine too. Sometimes the first conversation is about figuring that out together.

That model bicycle is sitting on my desk now, a tiny reminder that sometimes you just need someone to show you how the pieces fit together. And sometimes you need someone to trust that you'll figure it out yourself.

The trick is knowing which is which.