Small, finished things

There is a tendency in many professional and creative environments to aim for the right solution rather than a usable one. We talk about quality, completeness, robustness, and long-term value. All of those matter. But they often become reasons to delay doing anything at all.

Over time, this can create a subtle paralysis: good ideas remain abstract, and progress is measured in discussion and intention rather than real outcomes.

Small, finished things can make a difference. Not because they are perfect, but because they are real. They create a point of contact with the world, and that contact teaches you more than any amount of refinement in isolation.

A simple signal

Recently, I participated in a series of leadership workshops. The details are unimportant. What mattered was that, as a group, we spent time identifying patterns that show up at work — particularly unhelpful ones. We talked openly about behaviours we fall back into under pressure and agreed that awareness alone was not enough.

As a group, we decided we wanted a way to signal each other when those unwanted patterns appeared. The idea was not to shame or police, but to interrupt gently and early, while things were still recoverable.

The workshop facilitator suggested a simple mechanism: a yellow card, like in football. When someone noticed a familiar pattern emerging, they could hold up a yellow card as a shared signal.

Everyone agreed this was a good idea.

No one made a yellow card.

No one printed one, carried one, or remembered to bring one into meetings. The idea remained intact, but unexpressed.

Making the smallest thing that works

That gap between agreement and action is familiar. It’s not malicious or lazy; it’s human. Without friction, ideas dissipate.

I decided to close that gap in the smallest possible way. Over a couple of hours on a weekend, I built a simple web app and published it at a short URL. When you open it on any device, it displays a yellow card. If you tap or click it, a short explanation appears, reminding us why the signal exists and what we are collectively responsible for as leaders.

That was it.

No login.

No tracking.

No clever design.

No attempt to make it scalable or reusable.

Just a small thing that worked.

What happened next

The first time it was used, it did exactly what it was meant to do: it interrupted a moment where an old pattern was starting to show up. The interruption was visible, neutral, and shared. It served as a gentle reminder to the team.

The second time it was used, something more interesting happened.

Instead of immediately reflecting, the group started to argue the point. Was this really a “yellow card” moment? Was the signal justified? Were we overusing it?

That reaction turned out to be the real value.

The tool didn’t just reinforce the learning from the workshop; it surfaced how we felt about accountability, feedback, and interruption. It made visible our discomfort with being called out, even gently, and our instinct to debate rather than pause.

None of that would have emerged from a slide deck, a policy, or a perfectly designed system. It emerged because something small and finished existed and was used.

Progress over perfection

The app was not elegant. It was not comprehensive. It will probably never be reused outside that context. But it did its job, and then it taught us something new.

This is what I mean by progress over perfection.

A finished thing creates feedback. Feedback creates understanding. Understanding informs the next thing you make — or convinces you not to make anything at all. Either outcome is better than staying hypothetical.

Perfection and its pursuit, by contrast, often delays learning. It assumes you already know what matters most. Small finished things accept that you don’t and allow you to learn along the way, often with unexpected outcomes.

Why this matters beyond work

This pattern shows up everywhere, not just in professional settings. Writing, learning, building habits, experimenting with ideas — all of these benefit from small, completed acts.

A short essay teaches you more than a planned book outline.

A simple prototype teaches you more than a polished concept.

A conversation beats a perfectly worded message that is never sent or never answered.

Small does not mean careless. Finished does not mean final. It means building a strong foundation, whether to create momentum, improve a skill, or build confidence.

Making as a form of thinking

One of the quiet benefits of making small, finished things is that it turns thinking outward. Instead of reasoning endlessly in your head, you let reality respond.

Sometimes the response is indifference. Sometimes it’s resistance. Sometimes it’s unexpected insight. All of those are useful.

In the case of the yellow card, the thing itself was trivial. What it revealed about group dynamics was not.

That asymmetry is worth paying attention to.

Closing the loop

I don’t believe that everything needs to be shipped, published, or shared. But I do believe that ideas benefit from contact with the world. Small, finished things are a way to create that contact without overcommitting.

They are low-risk, high-signal experiments. They move you forward, even when they show you something you didn’t expect.

And sometimes, a couple of hours of weekend coding fun can do more to reinforce a shared understanding than weeks of discussion.