What the Moment Asks
Most of my career has involved working with policies, procedures, standards, and rules. They matter because they create consistency, protect people from unfair decisions, and help organizations avoid repeating the same mistakes. But anyone who has managed people for a while knows that rules can’t cover every situation.
The Greeks had a word for the kind of wisdom needed in these situations: phronesis, which means practical wisdom. Aristotle described it as the ability to think carefully about what to do in a specific situation. He believed it developed through experience because general principles can take us only so far.1
The Stoics also saw wisdom as one of their four cardinal virtues. Diogenes Laertius wrote that they viewed prudence as knowing what is good, harmful, or neutral. He said wise advice means knowing what to do and how to do it well. Wisdom helped them apply courage, justice, and temperance to the life directly in front of them.2
I probably didn’t know the word phronesis when I first started using the concept. Maybe I just had a sense for it and was willing to stay flexible when the usual answer didn’t fit the circumstances. Most of what I know came from making decisions, seeing what happened, and trying to learn something useful for next time.
Years ago, I managed a large imaging production operation. One of my best employees had developed a pattern of calling in sick nearly every Monday. His attendance was becoming a serious problem because we relied upon his production to keep the operation on schedule.
I spoke with him several times and escalated through the disciplinary process. During one conversation, he acknowledged that he had already used all his available leave and understood that the absences were unpaid. I explained that my not paying him was not the issue. His absence affected operations and put more pressure on the people who came to work.
Eventually, I reached the final step before termination. Firing him would have fixed the attendance issue, but it would have caused other problems. We would lose a top performer and have to spend time and money finding and training someone for a technical job. Even then, a new hire might never reach his level of productivity.
I suspended him without pay for a week.
When he came back, his attendance was perfect for months. The suspension made an impact in a way our talks hadn’t. We kept a valuable employee, kept the production schedule on track, and avoided the cost of hiring someone new.
Later, I told someone in Human Resources about the situation as an example of keeping a good employee. She quickly told me that our policies didn’t allow suspension. I had thought it was an option in our disciplinary process, but it turned out it wasn’t.
I talked to the vice president of Human Resources. He asked if the suspension had worked. When I said it had. He recognized it helped the company, didn’t hurt other employees, and let us keep a strong performer. He agreed it was the right decision.
He also invoked a saying commonly associated with Rear Admiral Grace Hopper. “It’s easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission.”3
That saying can be risky if you don’t use it with good judgment. A manager might use it to justify careless actions or avoid responsibility. My decision needed to be examined because policies protect employees from favoritism and help managers avoid their own mistakes. Just because something works doesn’t mean it was the wisest choice.
The employee’s full record mattered. We had talked several times, and it seemed like the attendance problem could be fixed. Firing him would have cost the organization much more than trying again to help him improve. I would probably make the same choice if I faced the situation again.
I also have to admit that an employee’s overall performance would have influenced my decision. Replacing a weaker employee would have cost less, but I still would have tried every reasonable option before letting them go. Fairness doesn’t always mean making the same decision, since people and situations are rarely the same.
This is where phronesis can be uncomfortable. It takes judgment. Wisdom means explaining our reasons, accepting feedback, and thinking about how choices affect everyone. A good exception should be based on more than just personal preference or convenience.
Another lesson came from the same imaging operation. We ran three shifts each day, six days a week, plus another shift on the seventh day. Employee attrition and corporate budget cuts left us unable to fill vacant positions, so I had to redistribute the available hours around the changing workload.
I studied the production requirements and developed a new schedule. Employees still received 40 hours, and each person got a three-day weekend every third week. The four-day weeks meant somewhat longer shifts, but I thought the extra day off would make the plan attractive.
From an operations perspective, it was perfect. I brought the team together, shared the workload details, and explained the new schedule. But their reaction was flat. They looked down at the table, and the excitement I expected just wasn’t there.
I was surprised and probably felt a bit defensive. I had put a lot of thought into the plan and believed it would help them as much as it would help the company. Then one employee asked if the group could talk it over and suggest a different idea.
I left them with the production data and the requirements we needed to meet. About 45 minutes later, two employees came to my office with a new schedule. It kept the usual five-day workweek and gave up the three-day weekends I thought everyone would want.
Their plan met all the operational needs, and every employee agreed to it. I talked with each person to make sure they really supported it. We went with their schedule, and it worked.
My analysis was right, but I missed something important. The employees valued the routines of their five-day weeks. Longer workdays disrupted those routines more than I realized. They knew what worked for their lives because they were the ones living with the schedule.
Marcus Aurelius reminded himself that if someone showed him he was wrong, he should gladly change his mind. He believed that truth never harms us. That sounds “cool” when we read it in Meditations. But it feels different when a plan you worked hard on falls flat in a meeting.
Practical wisdom meant I needed to pay attention to the room before defending my plan. I had to separate what the operation needed from my own attachment to my solution. Once the team met the real needs, I didn’t have to hold on to my original plan.
I faced a different kind of decision during the seven weeks I spent in Kings Mountain while my mom was ill and after she passed away. By then, I had lost a lot of weight and built a steady routine of walking, exercise, and healthy eating. But it was hard to keep that up while caring for her and dealing with grief each day.
I tried to create a routine that fit those circumstances. I also accepted that just maintaining my progress was enough for that time. Pushing myself to keep losing weight and building endurance would have ignored what life was asking of me then.
That choice might seem insignificant compared to decisions about employees or production schedules. But sometimes judgment is required. Discipline helped me improve my health, but practical wisdom meant changing my goals when life changed. Just maintaining became its own kind of progress.
Researchers who study wisdom have found that it often depends on the situation. Wise thinking means recognizing uncertainty, considering other viewpoints, and knowing the limits of what we know. Experience and careful reflection can help, but no one is wise in every situation.4
I don’t remember using any one method in these moments. First, I tried to stay flexible, then I was willing to look again when the usual answer didn’t work. The lessons I could use again became clearer later.
Policies are still important. Planning matters, and careful analysis can help prevent problems. Phronesis comes in when reality brings up something the plan missed. It asks us to consider the people affected and stay open to changing our minds.
At my age, I’ve learned from experience that I’ll still make mistakes. Wisdom doesn’t promise certainty. It can help me handle uncertain moments more carefully and learn from what happens. Then use those lessons next time.
The right choice isn’t always written down. Sometimes it’s an employee worth saving, a silent conference room, or times when just holding steady is enough. The moment tells us something if we’re willing to listen. Phronesis is the wisdom to hear it and respond.
