From AI adoption to innovation to values. From weeks to months. From office populations to field staff who never sit at a desk. The method adapts. The result doesn’t: behaviour that sticks.
A national water utility, around 1,400 people. The board had a clear group strategy, but a lot of what needed developing was emergent rather than fixed, the kind of thing you discover by doing, not by announcing. The CEO and board kept asking, especially on the digital side, for new capabilities to be built in-house. You don't have to fold every one of those into the corporate strategy: you can develop something small, treat it as emergent strategy, test it for real, and make sure it sticks with the people who have to live it.
So we started by listening. An AI capability and sentiment scan, with 85% taking part, then honest, structured conversations between leadership and staff. Adoption was reframed as a set of personal wins rather than corporate orders, which let people move at their own pace instead of waiting for permission.
Because it ran as emergent strategy rather than a single mandated line, the programme could hold competing strategies at the same time. Several directions ran side by side, each tested against what people actually did, with the strongest earning its place rather than being chosen in a room. Within 90 days, over 70% felt more confident making AI-driven decisions and daily tool use was up 30%.
An energy retailer in a market where switching supplier is easy and a poor impression costs you the customer. The job was to get the sales, marketing and digital teams properly up to speed first, sharpening the everyday work that shapes how people experience the brand. So we didn't start organisation-wide. We started at business-unit level, where it mattered most.
The programme ran three months: around seventy assignments grouped into fifteen missions, five released a month so fresh content kept arriving without flooding anyone. A scratch card on each desk carried the password for that mission, the daily trigger of scratch, enter, start. Monthly live sessions showcased real, unexpected use cases from inside the teams, and open office hours with senior experts let people bring their own questions and go deeper.
Here is what made it interesting. Sales and marketing people are often quicker to try things on their own, but individual willingness did not translate into collaborative practice. You had plenty of individually capable people and no shared way of working with the tools together. That was the real problem to solve. Once the programme cracked it at business-unit level, it earned the right to move outward, and a follow-up is now being designed for the rest of the organisation.
A global technology company whose people are engineers, collaborative by instinct, but a good number genuinely doubtful about the new technology. The board had a group strategy and it was not landing. It moved slowly, people were unhappy with it, and the more official it was made, the more they resisted. The honest read was that this could not be driven from the corporate centre. It needed a bottom-up approach, and the centre was nervous about that, because bottom-up means letting go.
So we made it fun, on purpose. The programme ran across the globe, teams and meetups on different continents, with live events as the centre of gravity, some online to bring people together across time zones. Every sprint carried a contest: a real question, open to all, judged by peers. Winners were announced in plenary and handed a physical award, a Clippy built from building blocks, the accidental mascot of all the AI nobody asked for but everyone recognised. The gimmicks lowered the stakes enough that people chose to join in rather than comply.
And here is what you do not always expect from fun. It left something behind. After the programme people built their own communities, kept sticking together, and several were now seen as leaders by their peers. Sometimes the glue is simply that people loved getting up for it.
A large insurance group with a lot of sub-brands, where even people inside it did not always see the through-line. The job was to align innovation across that spread, and the quiet was part of the problem: capable people who stayed silent and siloed. So we brought them together, online and offline, around topics some already knew and some had never touched, and we put the current leaders in those fields in the room to run real dialogues rather than presentations.
Underneath it sat a digital backbone people could tap into, learn from and get answers from. The design choice that mattered: the learning was available to anyone, but the real assignment could only be developed by doing it together. We built the teams so that crossing brand and discipline lines was the only way through. You could not solve it from your own corner.
And we made it a game. People had to dress up, meet up, and put what they had just learned straight into practice, which only worked because they had actually learned something new first. The fun was not a wrapper round the content. It was how the content got used.
A telecoms company had built a strategy around new values, and people were not adhering to them. The standard adoption playbook had been tried: sandbox sessions, spaces to talk, encouragement to get active. But people had an instinctive wariness about all of it, and the deeper issue was who the company actually is. Around 80% of the workforce is blue-collar, in the shops and out in the field. They could not care less about a values deck, and yet the metrics were built on top of those values landing. So the gap was not motivation. It was reach.
So we built for that 80% specifically, with mechanics designed to travel where they already were. Scratch cards people could use in the van, on the road, between jobs. A story contest instead of a survey. Local-team pub quizzes so colleagues could learn about the new values together and have fun doing it, rather than being lectured at. Deliberately low-tech, deliberately physical, deliberately local. The programme ran in Dutch and English in parallel, and the assignments were multi-modal: take a photo, pick a song, have a short conversation.
Reach into that audience went past anything regular internal communication had ever managed on this topic. The point was never a slicker deck. It was meeting people through a channel the slick decks could never use.
A department inside a bank, heading into a reorganisation, in the summer. A reorg is heavy, and the dangerous part comes before it even starts: people sense it, morale dips, and collaboration quietly stops. They knew they needed something positive to carry the team through the moment, before and after, and were genuinely unsure how to create it themselves. So we built a live experience with a before and an after around it, designed less to inform than to shift how people felt going in.
The atmosphere was the opposite of corporate. People came in summer clothes, some closer to carnival than to a bank, and that was the point. Getting bankers to laugh and wear something ridiculous was deliberate, because it opened a second where letting go became possible. Say one or two last things about the past, mark them, and then it is genuinely alright to move on. We ran it as a ritual of letting go, then turned people toward a future vision rather than leaving them in the dip.
The digital, the physical and the live event all sat around it, but the live moment did the heavy lifting. In the room, people could move, work in groups, and build their own answers to a hard question: how do you actually let go, and what do you want to walk toward instead. The same platform that drives long programmes ran this as a single live experience. The same engine, in a completely different gear.
Same method, wildly different problems. And if you already are convinced, here’s your next step.
One of the largest media companies in Europe needed a new counter-strategy. Linear television was no longer working, streaming was the real threat, and the hardest part was human. The people leading the market had been its kings for years, and new kings were now suiting up. Admitting that out loud was exactly what nobody at the top wanted to do. So the work ran on two tracks. One was the regular layer, sessions on culture, commerce and everything around the shift. The other, and the important one, was about voice: physical events and places where people could put their own ideas in, in teams we regrouped on purpose, so the ones who stayed silent while the old bosses spoke finally had somewhere to be heard.
To break the posture, the leaders had to break it first. We coached the CEO and the country director to go out in a chicken suit, holding up the golden egg, asking how the company was going to crack this. A senior leader willing to look ridiculous in public gives everyone else permission to drop their guard. The contrast between the seriousness of the strategy and the silliness of the staging was the whole point. It made a frightening conversation safe to have. Then the reward did something clever. Win, as a person or a team, and your idea got built, but you also got the CEO's car for a week. The CEO travels constantly, so the car mostly sits there anyway, which made the prize close to free, and yet it landed like nothing money could buy. A perk nobody else gets, deeply personal. And the winning idea is now dominant in the market.
One of the largest retailers, in the one month that makes the year: the run-up to Christmas, when the sales have to happen. Coaching that frontline is genuinely hard. The shops are full of temporary staff, local leadership is thin, and the existing structures only ever measure how many deals you did. Inside those structures you cannot really have a conversation about doing the work differently. The only lever people reach for is more money, and the brief was the opposite: get people working together, learning from each other, copying what the good ones already do well.
So we built the month as a daily ritual. Region leaders were coached to run it, a big pre-Christmas launch party set the tone that this was going to be fun, and then every shop opened its day the same way: a short morning stand-up, a leaderboard, small playful prizes. The mechanic that made it work was an unboxing moment. Staff did not know what each day would bring, and that little hit of surprise had people turning up five or ten minutes early because they wanted to see. Each day came with one simple, do-it-once tactic. It moved the numbers. Not by hiring better people or paying more, but by taking the qualities already standing on the shop floor, surfacing them, and sharing them across the team as a daily habit. The sales went up, and they went up further this way than targets and more pushing ever did.
A programme in Saudi Arabia that brought together some of the best people in the world, a real mixture of Eastern and Western cultures in one room. The setting was very top-down and very formal, which makes it genuinely hard to get people developing their own ways of working and collaborating less stiffly. The format was a large hackathon, important enough that it was streamed on TV with a big event built around it, so we scaled it up to match. Underneath ran the usual platform layer, leaderboards and pre-learning done individually so people arrived ready.
The first thing that made it work was identity. When people do not know each other, contribution stalls because no one knows who anyone is. So we created individual artefacts people could keep and show off, carrying where they were from and how they work. Once you can see who someone is, it becomes far easier to define what you bring and how you fit.
The second thing was celebration, engineered to escalate. The live event started small, a few party poppers, then the bigger guns came in, until the air was filled with golden confetti and balloons everywhere. It sounds silly, and it was exactly why people pushed so hard across the days. Every personal and team win was marked, with a beat of what can we learn from it, and a room of high performers became a collective.
A global engineering firm that needed new strategies for growth. Consulting had been hit hard, and raising prices was not a real answer, so a big part of the response was upskilling. We built a digital academy people actually wanted to learn in, interactive and hands-on, with formats like Lego Serious Play to get people building rather than just listening. But the part that made it work was not the academy itself. It was the rhythm we wrapped around it.
We created digital weeks and detail days, recurring moments three or four times a year, each with a different theme, where people could experience the new ways of working in an experimental way. We mixed everything into those moments: customer-facing sessions, talking to each other, learning, and experimenting physically and digitally. A pressure cooker that returned on a beat, so momentum never had to be rebuilt from scratch.
The second move was localisation. Much of it happened locally, in different countries, in local languages, with local leaders. A consultant could learn in Vietnamese from a local leader rather than straining to follow someone in English, and people approach a local hero far more easily than a distant headquarters voice. Finding and surfacing those local heroes was the strategy.
A global consultancy in a buy-and-build push, where the outside story and the inside truth had come apart. To clients, the leadership showed off how good the firm was. Internally, people did not believe it. The measurement culture did not help: progress tracked through old tools, individuals assigned a number for how much they had moved, which left people feeling counted rather than taken seriously. The pitch was all future tense, and the honest internal answer was, maybe, but not right now. Underneath sat a stack of taboos no one would say out loud.
The CEO was focused on results and could not see the rest. He walked the floor, showed people how well things were going, and genuinely believed he was being the good leader. What he could not see was that people were a little afraid of him, read the energy as aggressive rather than encouraging, and would never say so to his face. So the strategy people quietly held was: I cannot say this out loud.
So the intervention started as research: what is actually blocking people here. That diagnostic was the turning point. Once the taboos were surfaced, the fear, the feeling of not being taken seriously, the old measurement habits, everything got easier, because we were finally working on the real problem rather than pushing harder on the stated one.
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