The art of beginnings: entering an organisation as a consultant

Beginnings matter. Drawing on the work of Francesca Cardona and her book ‘Work Matters’, they carry the DNA of what is to come, shaping relationships, expectations, and the emotional landscape of a project. Whether we realise it or not, everything is present in the first interactions - if only we pay close attention and are able to make sense of what is happening. This is particularly true when stepping into an organisation as a consultant. The way we are received, the nature of our first conversations, the physical environment and the emotions we experience offer crucial insights into organisational dynamics.

For consultants, these early moments require detective work. How are we welcomed? What is said - and what is left unsaid? What feelings are we left with? Are emails responded to promptly, or do they linger unanswered? Is there enthusiasm or hesitation in the invitation to engage? The consultant's role is to tune in, not just to what is explicit, but to the ‘music behind the words’, as Harold Bridger put it. People communicate through tone, rhythm and symbols, revealing their and the organisation’s anxieties, aspirations, and hidden struggles.

The psychological contract: setting the scene

The initial interactions between consultant and client establish what is often referred to as the ‘psychological contract’ - an unspoken agreement that runs alongside the formal one. It is an emotional context, shaped by unconscious expectations, desires, and fears. Both parties bring projections: the consultant may be seen as a saviour, a disruptor, or an unnecessary luxury, while the client may be idealised, resisted, or misunderstood by the consultant. This early mirroring can offer a glimpse into the deeper currents within the organisation.

A case in point: I once entered a charity where the CEO, Miles, who had recently taken up the reins expressed his eagerness to modernise the organisation yet seemed reluctant to engage with the emotional realities of change. Our initial meeting was revealing - he quickly offered me a role without first securing the support of his senior leadership team (SLT). This eagerness, while flattering, signalled that Miles might be operating in isolation, perhaps unable to fully trust his team or delegate authority effectively.

Observing the system in action

The way an organisation interacts with a consultant often mirrors its internal dynamics. At the charity, I observed a striking hesitancy within (an all-white) SLT. They joined our first remote meeting from the same office space yet seemed reluctant to engage. One had a malfunctioning camera while another required prompting from Miles to enter the discussion. The lack of urgency in starting the meeting, the reluctance to voice opinions, and Miles’ tendency to step in and do the work for his team all painted a picture of an SLT struggling to use its power, privilege and authority in leadership to manage what was a difficult time for the organisation.

Even small, seemingly inconsequential moments offered insight. During my first in-person visit to the charity’s offices, I was given a tour by Miles. He opened door after door, revealing empty, underutilised spaces. As Miles took me around, he seemed apologetic, repeatedly saying rooms needed new carpets and coffee machines. The absence of people in these rooms and the focus on image and surface level fixes appeared to mirror a deeper issue. The organisation seemed to be struggling to focus on its primary task and the emotional and cultural aspects of change, instead focusing perhaps on something that was easier to relate to.

The challenge of being the ‘stranger’

Consultants enter as outsiders, and this position is both powerful and precarious. There is a seduction in speaking to someone who is not enmeshed in the internal politics of an organisation. At the same time, the consultant is often met with suspicion - can they be trusted? Are they here to judge? The consultant must navigate this paradox, using their ‘stranger position’ to invite openness while also respecting the protective instincts of those within the system.

In the case of the charity, my past acquaintance with Jill, a member of the SLT, complicated my entry. To pre-empt any concerns, I openly addressed our previous social connection, clarifying that my role was to consult to the organisation (not to her personally). This transparency was met with humour rather than concern - a reminder that in some organisational cultures, personal connections within the team and with external consultants were the norm rather than the exception, which can make holding boundaries and taking up one’s authority to have difficult conversations challenging. But it could also mean that the SLT could trust me in what appeared to be a close knit group.

Negotiating the work

The negotiation of a consultancy agreement is never just about logistics. The number of sessions, the fee structure, the delays and hesitations - all of these reveal something about the client’s anxieties and defences. In this case, there was ongoing uncertainty about who should be involved in the consultation. Miles initially insisted that the focus remain solely on the SLT, while others within the SLT, advocated for broader staff engagement. The absence of board members from these discussions was notable - were they being sidelined, or were they disengaged from the organisation’s day-to-day struggles? I remember feeling anxious as the SLT failed to agree on who should participate, ultimately stepping in to conclude the session, reinforcing a sense that the SLT were unable to exercise their leadership.

Such ambiguity is common in consultancy work. Resistance can take the form of indecision, endless negotiation, or a reluctance to commit. The SLT’s inability to agree on participation reflected a deeper tension: they seemed to recognise the need for external support but also felt shame in acknowledging it. This ‘shame of needing help’ is particularly acute in mission-driven organisations, where staff often see themselves as the helpers, not the ones in need of assistance.

Reading the signs

As consultants, we must pay attention not only to spoken words but also to symbols, gestures, and omissions. On my way out of one meeting, I noticed a gold-coloured model of a rickshaw being used as a doorstop. A beautifully crafted object, rich in cultural significance, yet placed out of sight, trodden on, its purpose reduced to the functional. It struck me as a metaphor for the client group - valued in principle, yet marginalised in practice.

This is the essence of consultancy: noticing the overlooked, naming the unspoken, and helping organisations connect their stated values with their lived realities.

Embracing the Mess

Beginnings are rarely neat. They are full of contradictions, unspoken fears, and competing narratives.

The consultant’s role is to embrace this complexity, to stay with the uncertainty rather than rush to impose solutions. They begin to form an understanding and assessment of the client’s situation, while the client starts to develop a relationship to the consultant and to the project. Through this there is a “red thread” that starts to emerge at the beginning, representing the core issue(s) the client is facing.

In the case of the charity, my early observations - Miles’ reluctance to engage with emotional dynamics, the SLT’s hesitations, the marginalisation of the board - provided a tacit roadmap for the work ahead – even if it wasn’t made explicit in the contract.

As the project unfolded, I had to balance patience with provocation, helping the SLT surface difficult truths while ensuring they felt supported. The consultancy did not have a clear-cut start or endpoint; it evolved through dialogue, reflection, and adjustment. And this is the reality of organisational change - it is never as simple as a strategy document or a restructuring plan. It is a human process, shaped by history, power, emotion, and the stories we tell.

To enter an organisation as a consultant is to step into a living system. How we engage in those first moments - how we listen, observe, feel and make sense of what we encounter - sets the tone for everything that follows. The beginning is not just a prelude; it is the work itself.