How a 4-part framework is helping me navigate a job that didn’t exist until I showed up
Let’s talk about job transitions. Not the “I’m chasing my passion” kind or the “I got out before the merger” kind. I’m talking about the kind where you walk into a role that didn’t exist, built on the bones of someone else’s temporary presence, and no one—including your boss—can quite tell you what success looks like.
Add to that a fancy new title, a revised portfolio of responsibilities, and a dash of executive-level ambiguity… and now we’re cooking with gas.
Welcome to my current chapter.
I recently transitioned from a Director of Strategy role at a mid-sized hospital to the Chief of Staff at the largest hospital in our region. A promotion in every sense—title, scope, compensation—but also, a puzzle. My predecessor? A consultant. Brilliant, but temporary. The role? Upgraded, expanded, and rebranded. What was once a support position is now a strategic one. In theory.
In reality? I’m still writing the job description.
And yes, I was hand-picked for this role. The intent was clear: bring me in, give me the experience and platform needed to accelerate my upward trajectory. It was an investment in potential, in possibility. But the catch? That same skill set—the one that got me here—is also what’s anchoring perception in the past.
Because once I arrived, things started shifting quickly.
The admin support team? Upgraded. My mentorship helped elevate them from support staff to strategic thinkers. Presentations? Elevated. Communications? Sharpened. The brand of the medical center—and the CEO—got a full polish. Meetings feel more focused. Leaders noticed. They feel the shift.
And while that’s been validating, it’s also been a little… inconvenient. Because the more effective the upgrade, the more I inadvertently reinforced the old version of the role. Leaders love the output, but they’re still labeling the engine under the hood based on yesterday’s model.
To make matters more complicated, the upgrade to Chief of Staff was intentionally quiet. No big announcement. No rollout. Which means some leaders still refer to me as “the new executive consultant.” They engage with the role based on what it was, not what it’s becoming.
So now I’m navigating two tracks: growing into a role that didn’t exist, while managing perceptions tied to a role that no longer exists—but looks familiar enough that people assume nothing changed.
It’s a paradox wrapped in a compliment. And it’s why the Experience Cube has been a life raft.
What is the Experience Cube? (And why should you care?)
Developed by Gervase Bushe (author, professor, not the guy from MythBusters), the Experience Cube is a deceptively simple tool designed to help leaders communicate with clarity and connect with reality—without spiraling into assumptions, defensiveness, or self-righteous TED Talk mode.
It breaks your internal experience into four buckets:
- What I saw or heard
- What I thought about it
- How I felt about it
- What I want going forward
That’s it. No jargon. No color-coded personality matrix. Just four steps that help you process the moment without losing your grip on what’s real.
It’s useful in conflict. It’s useful in leadership. And it’s definitely useful when you’re trying to navigate a new role that no one fully understands yet—including you.
My Experience Cube (Unedited)
Observation:
Leadership continues to reference the work done by the previous consultant. The language is passive but telling—“when we used to do that,” “that’s how it worked before.” There’s admiration in their voice, but also habit. I’ve been brought in to lead, but the frame they’re using is still shaped like someone else.
Add to that the whisper-quiet rollout of the Chief of Staff title, and the reality is: half the org doesn’t even know the role was redefined. They think I’m just the upgraded version of the last guy. I’m not. And the role isn’t either.
Thoughts:
I’ve been here before. I know how to build. I’ve led major strategy for a complex facility. But this role—Chief of Staff—was created with me in mind, which means I’m now being evaluated against a hybrid standard: the ghost of the consultant and the undefined expectations of a newly elevated role. The risk? I get typecast into doing what I’ve already proven I can do, instead of what the organization needs next. Perception is sticky like that.
Feelings:
Frustrated? Sure. Grateful? Also yes. But mostly—I feel a quiet pressure. A need to validate the decision they made by hiring me. A tension between staying in my lane and building the damn freeway. And maybe just a touch of imposter syndrome’s cousin: impact fatigue. Doing good work and wondering if they know it’s not your ceiling.
Wants:
Clarity. And if I can’t get that, then space. Space to define what this role can be. I don’t want to just perform a job. I want to reshape it. I want to use this window—this transition, this moment—to prove that a Chief of Staff can be more than a coordinator or strategist. We can be a multiplier. A force extender. A quiet engine behind major shifts.
Why This Matters (To You, Not Just Me)
This post isn’t just therapy.
It’s a challenge.
If you’re stepping into a role that didn’t come with a playbook—or worse, came with someone else’s playbook—you need to own your version of the Experience Cube.
Stop guessing what others expect and start articulating what’s real.
Break it down:
- What’s actually happening?
- What do you believe about it?
- What does that stir up emotionally (yes, even at work)?
- What do you want to change—or protect?
Then, say it out loud. With tact. With strength. And without waiting for someone to grant you permission to lead.
Because here’s the thing: leadership doesn’t start when the org chart says so. It starts when you stop playing defense with your value.
So What Now?
I’m still in the thick of it. The balance between not losing what made me valuable in the last role and not getting stuck there is delicate. But tools like the Experience Cube help me keep perspective.
They remind me that I’m not just reacting—I’m building. Not just doing—I’m defining.
And that’s what this whole blog is about.
Not noise. Not performance.
Just the real, messy process of showing up—fully.
Let’s talk.
Have you ever stepped into a role with no roadmap?
How did you navigate it? Or are you still figuring it out?
Drop a comment. Share your cube. Let’s build something real.
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