When the plan falls apart

Planning vs navigating, uncertainty in strategy, and doorways to something better.

Of all the plans I’ve carefully crafted and worked toward in my life, almost none have turned out the way I imagined. With one exception: my career choice — though right now, that also feels more like a dip in the road, due to a chaotic market and the conservative rhythm of German business.

Beyond that, I’m happy to say nothing has gone to plan.

Now, as a strategist, this could throw me into a loop of self-doubt (which it has in the past). But instead, it’s taught me something essential: while planning is both human and necessary, things rarely unfold exactly as we expect.

And that’s where strategy comes in. It’s not about rigidly sticking to the plan; it’s about adapting along the way — finding a way to navigate new information and the unexpected.

Strategy isn’t just a tool for executing a fixed plan; it’s what helps us thrive amid uncertainty and chaos. It’s the direction we choose to pursue, a scenario we commit to, until new information or feedback guides our next move.

Strategy is the guidance system, not the map. And that’s where much of what’s out there today is steering us wrong.

My failed plans have been a reminder that we’re often more naive, misinformed and close-minded than we care to admit or even realize.

Every twist, every disappointment, has cracked open my universe a little more. But before each expansion came the discomfort — uncertainty, control addiction, disorientation, panic.

Ambiguity isn’t the enemy.

The very thing business tries to eliminate is not inherently bad for business, just inconvenient.

Uncertainty is treated like a rogue element — something to manage, contain, engineer out of existence. But it never really goes away. And maybe it shouldn’t. Where would we be without surprise? Without randomness? Without the ideas we didn’t plan for?

Question marks don’t fit on a spreadsheet. And business loves what it can measure.

I feel this pressure in my work as a strategist. There’s a quiet unease running through the industry. You hear it in the language: urgency, efficiency, acceleration. You see it in the asks — tidy answers, perfect slides, clarity delivered by the end of the quarter.

We’ve exiled ambiguity, the fertile ground where ideas gestate, where contradiction sparks insight, where creativity can breathe.

Ambiguity is an invitation.

The best strategic work I’ve seen didn’t come from certainty or data alone. It came from those willing to linger in the unknown. Who resisted the urge to resolve too quickly. Who followed strange threads, sat in the silence, let something deeper emerge.

In branding, this isn’t just poetic. It’s practical. Human behavior doesn’t fit cleanly into boxes. Market shifts don’t follow roadmaps. And insight rarely shows up where we expect it. It comes in sideways, often contradicting the brief, the data, even our intuition.

We need to rebuild our tolerance for the unknown. For the nonlinear. For the possibility that the most useful outcomes may not be answers at all — but better questions.

Strategy right now needs less resolution and more resonance. Less performance, more pause.

Because business has become too serious. Too urgent. Too much pressure, not enough progress.

Maybe what we need isn’t another perfect plan, but a moment to breathe. And the courage to let our paths emerge, not just be constructed.