Restaurants closed. Supermarkets open. Strategy needed.

In 2020, I worked in strategy at a multinational in Amsterdam. The team was drifting. We needed a strategy day, the kind where everyone aligns on the direction and walks out on the same page.

I teamed up with Frits Paagman, an executive (team)coach I'd worked with before. I had an idea: "Let's kill our darlings. Let's get rid of post-its, and replace them with pictures."
And so we sat down to explore what that meant. Back and forth, we designed how to make it work.

Not a workshop. Not a seminar. A way to make what each of us saw, really saw, about the strategy visible to everyone at once.

We'd built this format from scratch together. Then it was time to test it. Outside, with a camera and a question in hand. Sounds random. It wasn't. The right question, at the right moment, focusing on the important topics.
First session, first question: "What, to you, is the added value of an operations department to the company strategy?"

Eight of us working in different pairs, each trying to find the right metaphor for their story. I chose the sushi section of a large supermarket. A sushi chef crafts the right flavours, textures and ingredients into one perfect tasting experience.

What's made with care and craftsmanship should reach the customer that way. The whole chain intact, at a price the customer is willing to pay. Not every product has the same chain, but the care must never get lost.
Not an operational answer, but a driving force: appreciating the value of craftsmanship. The image I took encapsulated that story.

A week later, second session, second question: "What is your contribution to the team?"
I was at home, wandering the house, when another mental image presented itself: a flower meringue from fururu, by Anne Fleur Sanders.

Combining unexpected things. Seeing what others don't see, or see only later. Making something that doesn't exist yet.
I couldn't voice it at the time, but it was my entrepreneurial ambition, avant la lettre.

A few weeks ago, those two images resurfaced. And suddenly I could connect the dots.
From sushi to value. From meringue to ambition.
From a question I couldn't answer to a company I'm now building.

Every picture is like a fingerprint. Unique. Yours. It shows how you see, before you can put it into words.
That's the power of the image. The image does the work.