A quiet moment with the team wheel

It was that quiet minute before the weekly sync, the one where everyone’s still shuffling papers or finishing a last sip of coffee. I’d pulled up the wheel on the shared screen, a simple circle waiting to be filled. No one had to ask what it was for; we all knew the unspoken question of who would take the lead on the next cross-departmental task.

When the choice isn't really yours to make

You want to be fair, you really do. But sometimes, looking at the team’s workload, every option feels like it has a downside. Assigning it myself felt too top-down, like I was playing favorites even when I wasn’t.Asking for volunteers can put people on the spot, especially when everyone’s plate is already full. The silence that follows can be more awkward than productive. I needed something that removed my own bias from the equation entirely.

The gentle spin of a neutral option

So I just typed in our names. No weights, no special conditions. Just the list of people who were capable and available in a broad sense. There’s a strange relief in handing the decision over to chance when all human-led options feel slightly unfair.When I clicked ‘spin’, the room got quiet for a second, then there was a soft chuckle. It wasn’t about dodging work; it was about accepting an outcome no one could argue with. The wheel did the talking, and it spoke clearly.It landed, and we all just looked at the screen for a beat. Then someone said, “Alright, I’ve got it,” and we moved right into the agenda. The tension of ‘who’ was gone, dissolved by a simple, transparent mechanic.

What was left unsaid

No one questioned it. There was no debate about capacity or seniority in that moment. The wheel had made a neutral choice, and we all implicitly agreed to trust it.