Back to Clackmannanshire: On Coffee, Clarity, and Walking Away

I wasn’t planning to return to Clackmannanshire.

But there I was, easing my car into a quiet car park, ready to meet a new client for coffee. A frontline post with a national eating disorder charity had sparked interest north of the border, and they’d asked if I could support their recruitment efforts.

They didn’t need to ask me twice.

The café was warm. The client was thoughtful. The Ochil Hills still loomed with quiet majesty.

And then, like smoke through a half-open window, something old drifted in. I hadn’t been back here in a while. Yet the moment I stepped out of the car, memory pressed in like mist. A tightness in my chest. The ghost of a decision made years ago.

Last time I stood on this ground, I was walking away from a role I’d cared deeply about - but one I could no longer reconcile with my values. The organisation’s original mission had calcified into something less humane, more performative. The culture that emerged valued hierarchy over honesty, and silence over accountability.

I left. Not because I wanted to. But because staying would have meant endorsing a dynamic that rewarded endurance and punished integrity. I couldn’t do that. Not then, not now.

The memory arrived not with bitterness, but clarity. A shadow that had never fully lifted.

This new client was preparing for an interview presentation. My role? Ask questions. Offer feedback. Help them centre their voice. It was straightforward, human work. The kind of work that makes sense.

And watching them — open, grounded, committed to growth ….. I found myself thinking: this is what high standards really look like. Not a weapon, but a compass.

It reminded me of something else. My final appraisal before I left that earlier role. ‘Appraisal’ might be generous. It felt less about development, more about defence. Less reflection, more positioning.

One line stood out. Delivered with absolute certainty:

“I have exceptionally higher standards than Mark.”

It wasn’t just untrue. It was calculated. The kind of line that reveals more about insecurity than standards. Because when scrutiny arrives, some leaders reflect - and some deflect. And this particular Leader was world class at deflection.

I’ve since realised this: when people in power feel exposed, they don’t always lash out. Sometimes they curate. They shape a version of events in which they’re always the expert, always the victim, never the cause.

And if you’re the one holding the mirror, you might just become the problem.

That organisation may still be wrestling with its contradictions. But I left with something intact: a working moral compass, a clearer sense of what matters, and the knowledge that walking away can be a form of leadership too.

Helping that client prepare - and watching them land the role ….. felt like exhaling something I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. Not revenge. Not even closure. Just the quiet return of something I thought I’d lost:

Trust in the work.

The coffee was good. The hills were still watching. And this time, I left Clackmannanshire carrying something I hadn’t had last time.

Not regret.

Direction.

When have you stepped away from something misaligned with your values?

What does high standards really mean to you?

How do you respond when leadership distorts the story?

If this resonated, pass it on. Someone out there might need reminding they’re not alone.

#QuietLeadership #WorkplaceCulture #ThirdSectorVoices #IntegrityAtWork #HumanFirstWork #Clackmannanshire

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Clackmannanshire Economic Regeneration Trust