Leadership
I am generally curious about the concept of legibility of work. Look around in your workplace. You can find documents, messages, presentations, design files. Evidence of people’s work. While it may look like a lot, there is a whole other type of work that is very hard to see. The invisible work.
When a big project starts, one or two people usually take the lead. They set up the Slack channels. They write the doc that gives the thing shape. They schedule the daily syncs so the work has a pulse, something that keeps people moving together instead of drifting. When a new person joins late, they get them up to speed. Anyone could do this stuff, in theory. It’s just logistics. But I’ve noticed that the people who do it tend to be the same people who end up doing much more later.
Because as usual, the project starts to get complicated with time. Scope creeps because a senior stakeholder had a great idea in a meeting. Stakeholders multiply because people don’t want to be left out of something that might matter. The original idea dilutes a little as it passes through more hands. Timelines slip, sometimes for good reasons, sometimes not. I’ve seen this happen so many times it feels like gravity. Projects just drift toward chaos unless a person is actively holding them together.
And that’s what those same one or two people end up doing. They see what’s happening, often before others do, and they start doing harder work.
They write the one-pager that forces clarity on a sprawling mess. They sit with stakeholders one by one, patiently, until each person’s context gap is closed. They build the tracker that keeps forty workstreams from drifting apart. They assign work to people who didn’t even know they were supposed to be doing it yet. They run the review prep so thoroughly that the exec meeting becomes almost a formality. I’ve watched people do this, and it’s genuinely hard. It requires judgment, patience, and a kind of care that’s hard to fake. Somehow, through all of it, they hold the whole thing together.
This is real work. It takes hours and days and weeks. It produces artifacts: docs, trackers, agendas, roadmaps. But even though the artifacts exist, the work that produced them becomes invisible almost immediately. I think about this a lot, because it seems so unfair.
It disappears
I once worked on a project that shipped on time, under budget, with quality intact. People knew it had gone unusually well, you could feel it. At the wrap-up, people thanked the engineers and the PM and the exec sponsor. But there was one person who had quietly done something like 40% of the actual coordination. She’d written the strategy doc that got the team aligned in week one. She’d built a tracker that six teams relied on daily. She’d had dozens of one-on-one conversations to close context gaps before they became conflicts.
When the project succeeded, her work had dissolved into the project’s infrastructure. The doc was just “the doc.” The tracker was just “the tracker.” The alignment was just how things were. People forgot it had ever been otherwise. That’s the thing about good coordination. I’ve realized that when it works, it disappears. You can’t see it precisely because it worked.
A founder I know once described his most valuable employee this way:
"She's the reason things actually work around here. She just... makes sure everything happens. She writes the docs. She runs the meetings that matter. She talks to people. Somehow everything she touches stays on track. I don't know how I'd even describe what she does to a person outside the company. But if she left, we'd fall apart in a month. Maybe less." — A founder friend
That’s the invisible work. Not invisible because it leaves no trace. It leaves plenty of traces. Invisible because the traces are unglamorous. A well-maintained tracker doesn’t make people think “this is extraordinary.” An alignment doc doesn’t make people say “this is the reason we succeeded.” The artifacts just become infrastructure. And like all infrastructure, they’re only noticed when they’re missing.
The slide wins
The problem is that recognition follows narrative. When a project succeeds, credit flows to the people whose contributions are easy to describe. The person who presented to the board. The person whose name is on the launch email. The person who shipped the final feature. These contributions are real, I’m not diminishing them. But they’re not more real than the work that made them possible. They’re just easier to point at. Easier to put in a slide. And I think that’s where the unfairness starts, slowly, without people really noticing.
The invisible work is often where the real leadership happens. Leadership as function, not as title. Thinking hard about a problem until it becomes clear. Bridging gaps between people who don’t even realize they’re misaligned. Writing the document that gives a project its shape. Orchestrating complexity so that others can focus on their own piece. That’s leadership. It just doesn’t look like leadership from the outside. It looks like a person who’s “helpful” or “organized” or “really on top of things.” I’ve seen people get described this way for years while doing work that was genuinely holding entire programs together.
Most performance systems can’t capture any of this. They reward what’s measurable, and the invisible work resists measurement. How do you quantify “brought clarity to a sprawling mess”? What’s the metric for “kept the strategy from getting diluted over six months”? There isn’t one. So you end up with systems that reward the visible and ignore the essential. Not because anyone designed it that way. That’s just how it shakes out when you’re trying to evaluate people at scale. I don’t think there’s malice in it, just a kind of structural blindness that’s very hard to fix.
This gets worse as organizations grow. In a five-person team, people see what’s happening. The person who holds things together is obvious. But add layers and distance and the gap widens. The people at the top start relying on proxies: titles, presentations, narratives. The correlation between doing the work and getting credit for it weakens. Sometimes it disappears entirely. I’ve seen it happen to good people doing essential work, year after year, wondering why they’re stuck.
Some leaders know
There’s no framework that fixes this. You can’t design a rubric that captures “held the project together.” But you can pay attention differently.
If you lead people, learn to see the work that doesn’t announce itself. Watch who people actually rely on when something important needs to happen. Notice who wrote the doc that people keep referencing, who runs the meeting that actually moves things forward, who seems to be in the room when something critical is being figured out. The work is there. It’s just quiet. You have to want to see it.
And about the invisible work itself: under the right leader, it finally gets seen for what it is. In my experience, it’s the fuel that keeps organizations running. I’ve worked in places where invisible work was abundant, and you could feel it in how things moved. Decisions got made without endless back and forth, projects shipped without drama, people knew what they were doing and why. I’ve also worked in places where it was scarce, and those felt completely different. Lots of activity, lots of meetings, lots of talking about work, but underneath all of it, things were quietly stuck. Nothing really moved until a person rolled up their sleeves and did the unglamorous work of making it move.
So find a leader who has the eye for it. They exist. They’ve done invisible work themselves, they know what it looks like, they can see past the org chart to how things actually get done. Under a leader like that, they put you on the things that matter. They fight for your compensation. They tell other leaders what you’re actually doing. Your work becomes load-bearing in ways that are hard to unwind.
If you’re good at the invisible work, the first move isn’t to get better at visibility. It’s to find the leader who doesn’t need you to be visible.
Then produce like hell.