“Why don’t they care like I do?” …And other quiet questions leaders ask

Katrina Casaclang
Apr 9
3 min read

Leadership can be lonely sometimes. Not because you don’t care—because you do. Very much.

And because it’s hard to admit when you’re frustrated. When things aren’t landing. When your team isn’t showing up the way you hoped.

You want to be fair. Supportive. Understanding. But sometimes, the thoughts creep in—the ones you don’t always say out loud:

Why don’t they care like I do?
Why do they need so much praise just to do their job?
How do I hold them accountable without being mean?
Why do I feel like I’m walking on eggshells?
Is it just me, or has leadership gotten harder?

These aren’t bad questions. They’re human ones. They come from people who are genuinely trying to lead well in a changing world. People like you.

But here’s the part that matters most:

Leadership isn’t just about having the questions. It’s about being curious enough to look for the answers.

Frustration is a signal. Not a strategy.

When someone clocks off exactly at 5pm while you’re still knee-deep in deadlines, it stings. You know that they don't need to stay. You know that 5pm is there finish time, and you don't have a budget for overtime. But you might also have a little voice in the back of your mind, and that voice tells you they’re lazy, or that they just don’t care.

But what if the question isn’t “Why don’t they care like I do?”

What if it’s “Do they understand why I care so much?”

Do they know about the behind-the-scenes work you’re doing—the funding battles, the budget restraints, the emotional labour of carrying a team?

Or have we accidentally left them out of the bigger picture, expecting them to care about something they’re not invited to be part of? Or maybe you think you are protecting them. Shielding them from the hard decisions and uncertainty.

But guess what...

Care comes from connection.

When we let people in—when we build relationships with the work, the mission, and each other—commitment grows.

Being kind as a leader doesn’t mean being weak. Accountability isn’t cruel.

One of the hardest balancing acts for leaders, especially in people-first spaces, is holding the line of accountability without hurting someone’s feelings. You don’t want to be seen as harsh, out of touch, or worse—triggering someone who’s had a tough time at work before.

So you soften the feedback. You make allowances. You don’t say what needs to be said. You give a flexible inch...and then you feel like they take a very flexible mile.

But here’s the truth:

You don’t have to choose between being kind and holding the line.

Be clear. Be direct. Do it with empathy.

Set the boundaries and stick to them—for everyone, not just the “easy” ones.

Have the hard conversations, but have them privately and with purpose.

Model the behaviour you expect. If you laugh off the rules, don’t be surprised when no one else follows them.

Fair is not mean. Consistent is not controlling.

Validation isn’t vanity. It’s part of the process.

When I began my career, I was instructed that if my boss said 'jump,' my response should be 'how high?' Many senior staff and leaders began their careers with a similar mindset. Therefore, it can feel unusual to have to continuously reassure someone for simply doing what you consider to be their job. However, younger team members often come from different backgrounds—ones that are more trauma-aware, emotionally open, and eager for feedback.

Maybe it’s because they never got it. Maybe it’s because they need to know where they stand. Feedback might be how they equate that they are doing the job correctly. Either way—your frustration is valid, but so is their need.

Let’s stop asking “Why do they need so much praise?”

And instead ask: “How can I support their growth without losing myself in the process?”

Support their capacity for self-direction by offering feedback that teaches, not just affirms. Let them know what they’re doing right and why it matters. This builds confidence—and eventually, independence.