A few months ago, I was interviewing for a role centered around employee development – an area I genuinely care about. It was the second interview. And while I had a few red flags, I thought, why not? Seemingly solid company. Great benefits. Remote opportunities.
Now, when I hear the phrase “data points,” it usually goes one of two ways: either a corporate jargon spiral, or a beautifully geeky brainstorming session with charts, frameworks, and someone who loves systems as much as I do.
My gut told me this wasn’t going to be the latter.
To be clear, that’s not always a dealbreaker. But within ten minutes, I knew something was off. It was the only time I’ve ever wanted to politely end an interview mid-call. I didn’t – but I should have.
The thing is, I was genuinely confused. What exactly were these “data points” they wanted? What story were they hoping the metrics would tell? Even more importantly – what were they going to do with the information?
Anyone who’s worked in management or operations knows this truth: you can track anything. But without intention, most metrics become digital clutter – nice charts, no compass.
So when I asked for clarification – something like, “What’s the information for, and what decisions are we trying to support?” – there was a pause. A long one.
Finally, the interviewer said, “We just want to see how you’d present data to leadership so they can make decisions.”
And that’s when it clicked.
They weren’t building a performance system. They were trying to simulate one – collecting impressive-looking metrics without asking the most important question: what kind of system are we building, and why?
It was like being asked how I’d optimize a ferris wheel without knowing what kind of ride they were building, who it was for, or whether anyone even wanted a ferris wheel in the first place.
Honestly, every metric without a goal isn’t just a data point. It’s data point-less.
Maybe I misunderstood. The vibes were off. Mercury was in retrograde. Whatever the reason, the interview didn’t align – and in hindsight, I was relieved I didn’t move forward.
But it stuck with me. Not because I didn’t get the job. Because it really made me evaluate what I want to achieve in a people operations role – and within an organization as a whole. If there’s even a hint that I’d be consumed by spinning dashboards with no direction, I have to trust that gut feeling.
Note: it’s not lost on me that the disconnect in the interview was also mine to own. At the end of it, I genuinely wished I had one of those Men in Black brain-eraser devices – just to wipe the whole thing from memory, for both of us. It was an hour of disconnected back-and-forth, spotty internet, confusion between the first and second interview, and overall just a cringe-worthy experience.
Still, sometimes it takes a moment like that to realize what really matters. This isn’t about tearing anything down. It’s about using that moment as inspiration – to rethink what performance systems could be.
The Real Problem: Linear Thinking in a Complex System
Let’s get clear. When I say “performance system,” I don’t just mean annual reviews or dashboards. I mean the full set of beliefs, rituals, technologies, conversations, incentives, and habits that shape how an organization defines and supports success.
And most of these systems are built on a tidy assumption: if we track behavior clearly and consistently, we can manage performance effectively.
It’s clean. It’s simple. It’s also not how humans work.
That kind of thinking is linear – based on the idea that outcomes are predictable and traceable. If Person A does X, then Y will happen. But humans aren’t spreadsheets. And workplaces aren’t assembly lines (though they can consist of them). They’re complex systems – full of feedback loops, shifting priorities, unspoken dynamics, and contextual nuance.
In complexity science, there’s a concept called emergence. It means outcomes don’t arise from any one part acting alone, but from how all the parts interact. Trust is emergent. Motivation is emergent. Creativity, burnout, resilience – none of these things can be isolated or explained by a single behavior. They arise from the environment someone is in, and how they interact with it over time.
Which means: you can’t understand a person’s output without looking at the system they’re part of. But most performance systems aren’t designed to see the system. They’re built to monitor the individual – without context.
The Ferris Wheel, Revisited
Traditional performance reviews are like freezing one moment on a ferris wheel and judging the entire experience based on that snapshot. But two people can be at the exact same height and have completely different experiences. One is thrilled by the view. Another is queasy and holding their breath. A third is still processing past rides gone wrong.
And the reasons behind those reactions? Prior work experiences, psychological safety, personal values, the culture they’re navigating, whether they feel seen – whether the ride was built with them in mind.
Each rider brings their own terrain, timing, and interpretation. That’s what most performance systems ignore: belonging, safety, context, and meaning. The very things that shape behavior long before it’s measured.
There’s a line in the book Complexity that stuck with me – about how, in living systems, the same material often moves around and around. Not in a loop, exactly, but in a constant state of flow. That image made the ferris wheel metaphor click in a deeper way. Because we do revisit the same systems over and over – our roles, our teams, our organizations – but never from the exact same place. We grow. We have off days. New goals, experiences, and relationships reshape how we interpret the ride. And that’s not failure or inconsistency. That’s life in a complex system.
Maybe the view from the top is exhilarating one year, and disorienting the next. Maybe someone returns to the ride with a new question or sense of purpose. That difference deserves to be understood – not flattened into a number. This is why Complexity became a foundational lens for me, especially in developing the idea of organized belonging: the belief that belonging doesn’t live solely in feelings. It lives in systems. And those systems are dynamic, adaptive, and always in motion.
So if we’re going to track data points, let’s do it with purpose. Let’s ask how they interact with context, time, and experience – not as frozen artifacts, but as signals within a living, relational environment.
From Snapshots to Systems
Most performance systems still operate like cameras – capturing one frame and acting like it tells the whole story. Even 360 reviews, while broader, are still static. More angles, yes. But still snapshots.
Meanwhile, we’re flooded with dashboards: who hit which KPI, who logged the most hours, who got the most Slack shoutouts. We’re tracking everything except what matters most.
We’re not short on data. We’re short on questions worth asking.
What If We Mapped Performance Instead?
Here’s a better question: what if we stopped trying to score performance and started trying to map it?
Mapping doesn’t mean ranking. It means understanding what’s really happening inside and around someone. What are they contributing – even beyond their formal role? Are they supported, or just surviving? What motivates them now? What’s shifted since last year?
Performance isn’t a static trait. It’s a moving pattern – a story shaped by people, systems, and the relationships between them.
That’s why employees don’t just want a task list. They want a roadmap. One that shows where they’re headed, how they’ll grow, and what kind of support will meet them along the way.
That’s why we invest in onboarding and talk about career pathways. But unless that support is consistent and responsive – unless the system reflects the person’s journey over time – it’s not a roadmap. It’s just a brochure.
Don’t Just Add Riders – Rethink the Ride
You don’t have to tear everything down to start seeing things differently. Rethinking performance doesn’t mean replacing your HR playbook with interpretive dance and sticky notes – though honestly, some teams might benefit.
It means asking better questions:
- What are we trying to learn from the data we collect?
- What conditions help people do their best work here?
- What patterns are already emerging that we could build on?
It also means shifting the focus:
- Instead of “Who’s underperforming?” try “Where is the system stuck – and why?”
- Instead of isolating individuals, look at how teams and environments are shaping the experience.
Because performance doesn’t emerge from nowhere. It emerges from something. And that something is the system.
Brainstorming Session: What You Can Actually Do
If you’re in HR, L&D, or any kind of leadership role, here are a few ways to apply this mindset right now:
Ask smarter questions:
- What’s one metric we’re tracking that no one can explain the “why” behind?
- What’s one behavior we say we value but don’t actually measure or support?
Zoom out before zooming in:
- Where are we focused on individual performance when it might be a system-level issue?
- Where have we interpreted quiet disengagement as lack of effort rather than lack of safety?
Map before you measure:
- Identify three cultural or environmental conditions that influence how people show up.
- Start a team conversation about what’s making people feel stuck – or seen.
Final Thought: If It’s Not Moving People, What’s the Point?
You can’t keep adding riders and calling it growth. If your performance system creaks, stalls, or throws sparks, it’s not the fault of the people in the seats – it’s a sign that the ride needs rethinking.
Performance isn’t isolated. Growth isn’t linear. Systems don’t just need motion – they need direction.
So here’s your final provocation:
If your performance system isn’t helping people move forward – if it’s not adapting, supporting, and learning alongside them – then maybe it’s not a system at all. Maybe it’s just a snapshot machine.
That’s it. You’ve rethought the ride.
The only question now is: What kind of ferris wheel are you building?