From the outside this seasoned nonprofit theater looked like a thriving creative space. Inside, the reality was more complicated.
For years leadership had been working to build a strong, connected culture—one where everyone truly felt like they were in it together. And for a while it worked. But then COVID hit, and everything changed. Costs skyrocketed, and the industry’s long-standing model wasn’t cutting it anymore. People needed more stability, more security. And even though leadership kept pushing forward, doing everything they could to hold onto their vision, everyone could feel the strain.
You could sense it walking through the building. Some team members worked remotely, shaping ideas from a distance. Some team members were on-site, keeping the stage alive. Conversations that used to be effortless started feeling more like negotiations. Not because people didn’t care—if anything, they cared too much. Yet somewhere along the way, the gap between people became something more than just physical.
Leadership wasn’t about to let that become permanent. They had already put in years of work to build on and improve this culture, and they weren’t about to lose that progress. So they brought in an advisor—not to “fix” something broken, but to help keep the momentum going.
The advisor didn’t come in with some big, flashy solution. That’s not how this kind of change happens. Instead, they created space for real conversations. In two all-staff workshops, people came together face-to-face—some for the first time in years—to take an honest look at what was happening. The advisor guided them through exercises where they laid it all out for one another: what was working, what wasn’t, and how the silos they had fallen into were shaping the way they saw each other.
That was the moment things started shifting.
One group exercise had them mapping out the benefits and drawbacks of working in silos. At first, it made sense—silos created efficiency, focus, a sense of autonomy. But then as they looked at the other side of the list, the reality set in. Silos didn’t just keep things organized. They kept people apart.
And then there was that moment. One of the production team members, normally pretty quiet in group settings, hesitated for a second, then finally said, “This is the first time I’ve felt like we’re truly on the same side as the artistic staff.”
The room went silent. Then, slowly, heads started nodding.
That was it. The shift.
From there, things started moving. The groundwork was already there, and now the staff started making the changes themselves. Someone started a Slack channel for quick, informal check-ins. Leadership made more time for people to connect—not just in meetings, but in ways that actually mattered. A "kudos" channel popped up, where people could call out great work, something that had been missing before. Conversations that used to happen in silos started happening between teams, and instead of last-minute fire drills, people were catching problems early, working together before things escalated.
And then one afternoon, you could see it—artistic and production leads, sitting side by side, bouncing ideas back and forth. No tension, no guarded language. Just a team, working toward the same goal.
Through it all, the space the advisor had helped them create persisted. Conversations sputtered to life just as they were starting to stall. Quieter voices started to speak up. People took the energy of frustration and reframed it into something more productive.
One of the participants put it best when they shared: “The real shift happened when people realized how much they mattered—not because someone told them, but because they experienced it.”
The work isn’t done. It never really is. Yet walking through the halls now, the energy feels different. Conversations flow. Ideas move. It’s not about “their side” or “our side” anymore.
It’s just one team, moving forward together.
