A client change lands mid-sprint.
In one team it feels like a nuclear bomb just dropped. Messages start flying from every direction, someone writes that this "breaks everything" we built. Another tries to go on record about why it wasn't the right time to touch anything and that they "warned this would happen." More energy goes into discussing how the problem arrived than what to do about it.
In another team, something similar happens. The change also comes late and disrupts what was planned. But here, someone cracks a half-joking remark, there are a couple of laughs, and once everyone releases the tension, the practical questions emerge: what actually changed, what no longer makes sense, what should be moved first.
The difference between the two teams isn't the problem-it's actually the same one. The difference is where that problem ends up.
In the first team, adversity gets internalized. It becomes part of the group's identity, and that makes every change feel like a sign that everything is broken or that someone is about to be exposed or blamed. The conversation starts revolving around the fear of making mistakes, of the stakeholder, of consequences.
In other teams, the problem stays outside. It's seen as an object that showed up on the path. Something that might be uncomfortable or difficult, but that doesn't define who they are or how much they're worth as a team. That difference dramatically changes how people react.
An interesting way to notice that difference is to observe how some teams use humor for this.
When a team manages to grab a problem-even for just a few seconds-and put a clown nose on it, something loosens up. Obviously it depends on how serious the problem is. None of this makes the problem less serious, but what changes is the vantage point. That small gesture strips away the drama and restores perspective. The problem will still be there, but it stops looking like a monster about to devour us.
That same gesture also helps with coordination. A short comment or an inside joke can pack a lot of context. It lets you point to a pattern or a situation without having to explain everything from scratch. Everyone understands what the reference means, and the conversation moves faster.
What usually prevents this from happening is fear. When fear settles in as the prevailing climate, it brings out the worst in us. For some, it causes paralysis: nobody wants to be the one who gets it wrong, so nobody decides. Other times it pushes toward the opposite extreme: defensive reactions, unnecessary arguments, exaggerated urgency. The focus shifts away from the problem and toward self-protection.
That climate is often amplified from leadership. When the person leading is afraid of the stakeholder, afraid of making mistakes, or afraid of being exposed, every change starts to feel like a potential disaster. The team picks up that signal immediately and ends up living in permanent alert mode. When leadership manages to lower the threat level and hold a wider perspective, the opposite happens: the team can see the full picture, not just the fire of the moment.
The consequences of each climate become noticeable over time.
A team that frequently enters survival mode ends up staying there. Adrenaline is useful for getting through a specific crisis, but when it becomes the permanent state of work, it starts to erode everything. Decisions get rushed, quality gets less attention, people burn out. Even when the context improves, the team keeps functioning as if it were still under threat.
The result is often paradoxical. You work with enormous urgency for weeks or months, and the outcome still ends up being worse.
In teams where the problem usually stays outside, something different happens. Difficulties still show up. Projects still get complicated. The difference is that those situations become shared stories instead of scars.
The hard moments end up becoming part of the team's folklore. Over time, they're remembered as episodes that strengthened their shared identity. That collective memory means the next time around, the group faces the problem with less anxiety and better judgment.
That's why humor within a team is often a good cultural barometer. Not because healthy teams are cracking jokes all the time, but because when difficulty appears, humor tends to surface naturally. It's a sign that the group is maintaining perspective and that the problem hasn't seeped into the team.
The next time a disruption shows up in a project, it's worth watching that small detail. What happens with the climate in the first few minutes. Whether a siren goes off, or whether someone dares to put-even just for a moment-a clown nose on the problem before starting to solve it.
The problem is almost always the same. What changes is where the team places it.