The Surgeon and the Bathroom Meeting

The surgeon is operating. Somewhere downstairs, somebody needs to know where the bathrooms are.

Of course the surgeon knows. Everybody knows the surgeon knows.

So someone schedules a meeting.

First the surgeon stops the operation. In this spectacularly ridiculous imaginary hospital, they sew the patient up, leave the operating room, walk to the meeting, and sit down with everyone waiting to discuss the question.

“Second door on the left.”

Meeting adjourned!

The surgeon returns. The team gathers again. Where were we? What had we done? What were we about to do? Time to reopen the patient and figure out where the surgery left off.

All that, for directions to the bathroom.

But hold on. Who decided the surgeon had to answer? Did the information desk know? Could someone there have answered? Did they have the authority? Or has the system quietly taught everybody that questions go to the person with the most expertise, even when that expertise isn't needed?

Maybe this wasn't a question problem at all. Maybe it was a story the whole system had started treating as fact: Only the surgeon can answer.

A look in our Mirrors

Through Our Lenses

What do we actually know about which questions require specialist involvement? What are we assuming? What might we discover by looking at where questions travel?

What does the meeting cost beyond the time spent talking—stopping, switching context, gathering, remembering, restarting?

When should the surgeon be interrupted? Some decisions truly require specialized expertise, and the system must make that path clear too.

Could a different route, a shared understanding, or a little more decision authority somewhere else change the adventure?

Perhaps another traveler has already built a working information desk. Would we like to see how they did it? We still get to choose what fits our team.

That last question may lead toward The Gate: who can open which door, when, and for what? But first, the Mirror asks whether the story we're telling about the work matches what's actually happening.

Another Door Appears

Side Quest: Fast-Track Curiosity!

Does the question need a meeting—or might there be another way?

Somebody at the information desk has a thought: “Hang on. Did anyone put the bathroom directions in the new employee handbook?”

Another traveler looks up. “Could we put a sign on the wall?”

A third points toward the lobby. “Could the information desk answer without asking the surgeon?”

Now the team has a whole new set of doors to explore. Maybe the answer already exists, but nobody knows where to find it. Maybe the handbook needs one line. Maybe the sign is missing. Maybe the employee at the desk knows the answer but hasn't been given permission to answer. Maybe a colleague has solved this exact problem somewhere else.

And maybe there are still questions that absolutely should reach the surgeon. Which ones? How would we know?

The Fast-Track Quest isn't a race or a mandate to cut corners. It's an invitation to notice routes, expertise, and information that could make the work flow more naturally—without stealing anyone's choice about what fits.

What might we discover if we ask: “Does this need a meeting, a decision, a person, a sign, a shared reference—or something else entirely?”

Sassy has checked the meeting agenda. Still no bathroom map. 🐾

Different teams may choose different paths. The Mirror offers questions, not a verdict.