The quiet after the wheel spun

We were about to start the workshop, and the first thing we needed was someone to lead the opening round. I pulled up the decision wheel on the screen, a simple tool to make a neutral choice. Everyone’s eyes were on it, a little wary but willing.

A tool for the awkward part

No one ever wants to volunteer first, or at least, they don’t want to feel singled out. Asking for volunteers can create this weird pressure, where the same few people always step up. The wheel was supposed to take that pressure off, to make it feel less personal.I explained it briefly, just that it would pick someone at random. A few people nodded, others just watched the screen. I clicked the spin button, and we all watched the names blur past.

The moment it stopped

When the wheel landed, there was this brief, palpable pause. It wasn’t a groan or a cheer, just a collective quiet. The person whose name was highlighted gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.I thanked them and moved us into the first activity. The tension, that initial hesitation, dissolved as the workshop got going. The wheel had done its job—it made the decision, so we didn’t have to.

What the silence meant

That quiet reaction wasn’t about the person chosen. It was the sound of a group accepting an outcome, a shared understanding that this was fair. It’s a specific kind of workplace silence, one of acquiescence rather than disagreement.

Letting the tool carry the weight

As the facilitator, it let me off the hook, too. I wasn’t the one choosing; the system was. It removed any potential for perceived bias from me, which in a team setting, is sometimes the most important thing. My role became about guiding the process, not influencing the people.