How I Sidelined Someone by “Protecting” Her

Louise was going through one of the hardest seasons of her life.

Her husband was seriously ill. They were in and out of the hospital constantly. And on top of that, she was caring for their child and working full-time.

I wanted to help, I really did.

So I made a decision I thought was compassionate. And I hurt her without even realizing it.

We had a training initiative that involved traveling across our market areas—visiting each location, working with teams on the ground, delivering training in person. It was visible, company-wide work. The kind of project that puts you in front of people across the organization.

Normally, I would have assigned it to Louise. She was exactly the right person for it.

But given everything she was carrying at home, I assumed the last thing she needed was a demanding travel project. I wanted to put as little pressure on her as possible. So I quietly assigned it to someone else.

I thought I was giving her a gift. One less thing to worry about. One less burden during an already crushing season.

I announced it casually, almost in passing, the way you’d mention a minor scheduling change.

At our next meeting, Louise told me how much it had hurt her.

Was she not doing her job well? Was I punishing her for something? Had she done something wrong?

She took it personally—deeply personally. What I had framed in my mind as “protecting her,” she had experienced as being benched. Pushed aside. Quietly told she wasn’t needed.

I was stunned. I had been so sure I was doing the kind thing.

Here’s what I finally understood: Louise was motivated by recognition.

She wanted to be out across the company, contributing, visible, known for her work. That field project wouldn’t have drained her during a hard season—it would have energized her. It would have been the one place where she felt competent and valued and seen, exactly when the rest of her life felt out of her control.

I had assumed that during a personal crisis, she would want what I would want: fewer obligations, less to juggle, a lighter load.

But that was my projection, not her reality.

For someone driven by recognition, meaningful, visible work isn’t a burden to be removed. It’s a source of strength. By taking the project away, I hadn’t lifted a weight off her shoulders. I had taken away her platform—at the exact moment she needed it most.

What I saw as compassion, Louise experienced as exclusion.

What I thought was lightening her load, she experienced as being sidelined.

I got it completely backward.

I never asked her what she wanted. I never said, “Here’s a project that involves some travel—given everything going on, do you want it, or would you rather sit this one out?” I just decided for her.

And in deciding for her, I sent a message I never intended: You’re not up to this right now.

For someone whose sense of value came from contributing visibly across the organization, there was almost no message that could have hurt more.

For recognition-motivated people:

Visibility > Protection

Being included > Being shielded

Contributing > Being excused

Asking > Assuming

Louise didn’t need me to remove her from the work. She needed me to keep her in it—and to let her decide what she could carry.

I gave her the opposite.

Here’s the question I wish I’d asked before I made that decision: Do you know what actually energizes each person on your team?

Not what would energize you. Not what you assume would help them. What actually drives them?

Someone on your team right now might need something different from you than what you’re giving them:

Someone who needs visibility while you’re quietly “protecting” them.

Someone who needs consistency while you’re being flexible.

Someone who needs autonomy while you’re staying involved.

Your version of kindness might be their version of being overlooked.

If someone on your team is going through a hard time, resist the urge to decide for them what they can handle.

Instead, ask: “I want to support you well right now. What would actually help—and what would you hate for me to take off your plate?”

Then listen. Don’t assume. Don’t project.

Especially with the people who are driven to contribute and be seen, the most caring thing you can do isn’t to shield them from meaningful work.

It’s to make sure they still have a seat at the table—and let them tell you how much they want to carry.

I learned that the hard way, with someone who deserved better.

In an upcoming post, I’ll share a practical framework for identifying the distinct work motivations of every person on your team—so you can lead from what actually drives them, instead of what you assume.