A simple leadership ritual, a little discomfort, and a lot of culture
I have spent my entire working career trying to become the best leader I can be. My guess is, you’re doing some version of that too.
Along the way, I’ve sat through more bad meetings than I care to count. Meetings with no agenda. Too many people. Zoom antics. “You’re on mute,” moments that never get old. Meetings that run long, go nowhere, and end without clarity on what was decided or who owns what next.
(Thankfully, AI has made note-taking easier, but it hasn’t fixed bad leadership.)
When I started Placers, I wanted meetings to be different: Clear, intentional, and human. In one small but memorable way, I made that expectation unmistakable.
If you were late, no matter the reason, you had to sing “I’m a Little Teapot.”
And yes, you had to act it out.
Truth be told, I usually sang and danced along with the “offender.” The point wasn’t punishment. It was culture. Be on time. Be present. Respect the room.
There’s a video floating around of our current manager, Sam Ide, doing this on his very first day, back when he was an intern. He was (and still is) a great sport, and he permitted the clip to live on. It still makes me smile.
That little ritual stuck with me. It became part of my leadership identity.
Later, when I taught a college HR class, I put the same concept directly into the syllabus. There’s nothing worse than being mid-sentence, fully engaged with your audience, and having someone walk in late. Do you stop and start over? Do you ignore them and feel distracted? Either way, it disrupts the experience for everyone.
The students leaned into it. Some came in late on purpose. They rapped “I’m a Little Teapot.” Others did theatrical readings or a cappella versions. What could have been awkward became communal, creative, and surprisingly bonding.
I still use this ritual today.
Whether I’m leading a Life Plan Review group, working with my management team at Placers, or facilitating a strategic planning session with clients, the expectation is the same: if you’re late, you sing.
Now and then, the late arrival happens to be the most serious person in the room, which makes the moment even better.
It’s lighthearted. It’s memorable. And it works.
More importantly, it builds culture because people know what to expect, and that the expectation applies to everyone.
That said, leadership requires judgment. There are moments when you don’t push. When someone walks in late carrying real grief, loss, or a difficult business reality, the rule gives way to humanity. A ritual should serve people, not overshadow them.
This silly little song has become my signature leadership quirk. It’s not about control. It’s about presence, respect, and shared accountability.
So I’ll leave you with this question:
What defines your leadership style or ritual?
I bet you can’t sing yours.
Until next time, friends,
Chris
P.S. There’s always a moment when I’m doing this with a client or nonprofit group, and the person who walks in late happens to be the most serious in the room. The one everyone quietly assumes won’t play along.
So far, every single one of them has smiled and gone for it.
The worst-case scenario is just singing with them.
If this idea resonated with you, share it with someone in your world. Sometimes the smallest rituals create the biggest cultural impact.