Field Notes · By
The First Ninety Days No One Warns You About
The org chart they walk you through on day one is the least accurate document in the building.
Every new job comes with an org chart. Somebody pulls it up in week one and walks you through the boxes like it's a map. You nod. You believe it, because why wouldn't you?
Give it a month or so. The person with "Director" under their name turns out not to approve much of anything, and the ops lead two boxes over is who everyone quietly runs things by before a decision goes anywhere. The founder will tell you marketing owns the brand. Sales thinks sales owns the brand. Then you find out the dealers have been making their own flyers in Canva for years, and they're... not great, and nobody thought to mention it.
None of it's sinister. Companies drift like this once habits set in. The chart shows how things were supposed to work, and the people show you how they actually do.
That second map is most of what the first ninety days are about, and nobody hands it to you because nobody really knows they're living in it. You find it by asking a lot of dumb questions. Who signed off on the last campaign? Why is that photo still on the homepage? (There's always a photo. There's always a reason, and the reason is usually a person.) The answers almost never line up with the chart, and that gap is the most useful thing you'll learn all quarter.
There's a pressure, too, that nobody names. They hired you because something needed to change, so you feel like you'd better start changing things. I've felt that. I've given in to it, and made stuff in a first month that went absolutely nowhere because I pitched it to whoever had the title. It died in a hallway conversation I wasn't part of. Didn't even get a no, just silence.
So now I spend the front of a new role mostly listening. I sit in on sales calls. I talk to customer service, who honestly know more about what customers think than anyone in a strategy meeting. If there's a trade show coming up I'll work the booth and watch who people glance at when a dealer asks a hard question. You learn a lot from that glance.
The real risk in those months is quieter than screwing up. You get absorbed. On day ten every weird workaround jumps out at you, and by month four they're just how things are and you're defending them in meetings. So early on I keep a running note of every "wait, why do we do that" moment, before it stops looking strange to me.
Somewhere around day seventy or eighty the two maps start lining up. You know whose yes counts, whose no counts more, which meeting is the real one. That's usually when the work starts landing. Kind of humbling, if you spent the first month trying to prove something. The first thing that landed for me was a real kit for the dealers – photos, posters, postcards, displays, spec sheets. Once they had it, they stopped making their own, everything stayed on brand, and when the product changed we finally had version control over what the dealers were showing.
The chart's still pinned up somewhere, probably. I haven't looked at one since about week two.