The executive’s voice is the institution’s most underused asset. Most never post. The few who do sound like everyone else — or worse, like a machine.
You have spent two decades forming it. It lives in board minutes, in conference rooms, in memos read by nine people. Spoken aloud, it reaches three hundred; in print, a hundred thousand. You post once a quarter — or not at all — because between earnings and the board there is no hour left to draft, route, approve and publish a single paragraph.
The tools meant to help gave every executive the same cadence, the same hedged optimism, the same unmistakable smell of generated text. That is not merely dull — it is a liability. Your name, beneath a sentence you would never have said.
A draft in a document, an email, a reply from a departure lounge — “looks fine, but change the second paragraph” — then silence, a plane, a Friday. The moment that would have carried it has already passed. The voice is yours. The friction is everyone else’s.
What if the bottleneck wasn’t the executive
— but the process?