Fair question. You're considering bringing someone into your organization to diagnose why your product team can't deliver. That's not just a business decision.
It's a decision about who gets access to your team's struggles, who sees the dysfunction you're trying to fix, and who influences the people whose lives will be affected by whatever changes get made. That requires trust.
Let me tell you how I became someone people trust with that.
My dad was in Army Intelligence and worked with computers. Back in the late 80s – when most families didn't have computers – we had an IBM 486/33 at home. Part of my learning how to read was on a DOS prompt.
I never got into programming, but I liked to tinker. By the late 90s, I was on ORION, a text-only version of the internet run by the Ozark’s Regional Information Online Network.
In high school, I was one of two founding members of a student tech support group to help staff and faculty. By my senior year, I had my own office. I'd built six computer labs, run the networking cable for the whole campus, and was managing the Active Directory, file servers, and print servers for the entire high school.
When I was a senior in high school, a local computer repair place offered me a job. I turned it down because I didn't want to work with computers like my dad did.
My dad and I weren't on great terms. Without getting into details, I'll just say this: when I was 9 years old, lying in bed listening to my parents fight, I made a decision about the kind of man I wanted to become. I wanted to be a good husband and a good father. Someone who provided for his family – not just financially, but by being present, making time for them, loving them, and investing in them as people. That decision has shaped everything I've done since.
When I applied to Missouri State University, I wanted to understand people, not machines. I majored in Religious Studies with a minor in Creative Writing – poetry specifically.
But I also needed a paycheck. So I took a job in Computer Services as a lab assistant because it was something I could do and I needed the money. The guy who interviewed me shared that I had more experience and knowledge than any of the full-time staff.
I was 17.
Then the campus got hit with a virus. This was back before antivirus was really a thing, and the virus had infected critical financial systems – bookkeeping, HR, sales, financial aid, accounts payable. They pulled me out of the lab to lead the virus remediation process.
A university with a $60 million annual budget trusted a 17-year-old student worker with their most sensitive systems. Not just because I was trustworthy, but because I was the one with the answers. And any time I ran into something I didn't know how to do, I learned.
A few years later, when I joined the staff full-time in Computer Services, I did it because I wanted to get married and needed a steady income.
But I had also realized something: I wasn't just working with computers in that role – I was working with people. The technical problems were easy to solve. The human problems were hard, and those were the problems that actually mattered.
Missouri State's Religious Studies program wasn't theology or preaching. It was critical studies: psychology, sociology, history, anthropology, and religious theory. The program trained me to read massive amounts of material quickly, synthesize it, and communicate back conclusions clearly and concisely.
But more than that, it trained me to ask one question over and over: Why?
Why did people believe what they did? Why did they develop the beliefs they developed? What about their environment, landscape, culture, historical context, economy led them to these beliefs?
If you study history, you focus on the "what." If you study religion, you focus on the "why." That obsession with "why" – that deep curiosity about human motivation and meaning-making – changed how I see every problem.
When I look at your Jira data now (or Linear, or Asana, or whatever; the system doesn’t matter), I'm not just seeing cycle times. I'm asking: why is work getting stuck here, and what's causing this pattern? When I sit in your sprint planning meetings, I'm not just observing what’s said and written down, I’m picking up on what’s not being said and the hidden messages that too often go unnoticed.
When I analyze your Slack messages, I'm not just looking for communication gaps. I'm asking why these teams are talking past each other and what beliefs or fears are shaping how they communicate. I’m also exploring what about an organization’s culture drives people into DMs instead of public channels.
The "why" gets me to root causes faster than any framework ever could. Because frameworks tell you what to do, but understanding why the problem exists in the first place – that's what lets you fix it.
Poetry creates constraints that force you to be more creative in your communication. You're not just trying to communicate an idea – you're trying to communicate an emotion, to evoke a feeling through words, not images.
That challenge taught me to hear what people actually mean, not just what they say. To read between the lines. To notice the gaps, the hesitations, the things left unsaid.
When I interview your team members confidentially, I'm listening for what they're not saying as much as what they are. That skill – hearing the subtext – is what lets me see the problems that everyone inside your organization has become blind to.
I'm a Christian. My faith shapes how I work, though not what I expect from you; I’m a coach and consultant, not a preacher – my job is to love and serve people, and while we’re called to make disciples, I think we do that through relationship, not proselytizing.
A few years ago, I read a book titled What We Owe to Each Other by T.M. Scanlon. It's about contractualist ethics: the idea that we have obligations to each other that we should honor, and that we shouldn't act in ways that others could reasonably reject. That book, combined with my faith, changed how I think about my work.
Most consultants see this as a transaction. You pay them, they deliver a report, they leave.
I see it as an obligation.
But what does that obligation actually look like in practice? Who am I obligated to?
When you bring me in to diagnose why your team can't deliver, I'm not just responsible to you – the person paying me. I'm responsible to everyone affected by my recommendations. And that's more complicated than it sounds, because teams aren't just dealing with delivery problems. They're dealing with loss and change.
I recently got certified as a Grief Counselor Professional because I needed to understand this better. Not just the human side of loss, but how it affects teams trying to deliver, and how to see the whole system clearly when people are under that kind of stress.
Loss and change has a myriad of causes. Someone's idea gets shot down. Half the team gets laid off. Someone's parent dies and they get three days of bereavement leave, then they're expected to perform at 100%. Someone gets cancer or goes through a divorce, and a few weeks later, people start wondering why they're not back to normal yet.
I owe something to the person experiencing the loss, and I owe something to the rest of the team who has to keep working, and I owe something to the company that needs to deliver value. All at the same time. That's what systems thinking combined with contractualist ethics really is – seeing everyone in the system and recognizing you have responsibilities to all of them, not just the person signing the check.
When you bring me in, I'm not just delivering a diagnosis. I'm responsible for the humans whose lives will be affected by my recommendations – the engineer who's been grinding 60-hour weeks, the product manager drowning in stakeholder conflicts, the designer watching their work get rejected repeatedly. These are real people with real lives, and my diagnostic will change how they work.
Here's what I believe I owe you:
I owe you honesty. If I see something that won't work, I'll tell you – even if it's not what you want to hear.
I owe you ownership. If I'm wrong, I'll admit it and make it right. My yes means yes, and my no means no.
I owe you protection for your team. I won't recommend changes that benefit the company at the expense of the humans doing the work.
I owe you more than a report. I'm responsible for whether my recommendations actually help the people affected by them.
This is what my faith teaches me: that I'm called to love and serve people, not just extract value from transactions. This is what contractualist ethics teaches me: that I have obligations to you and your team that go beyond what's written in a contract. And this is what systems thinking means in practice: seeing everyone affected and taking responsibility for all of them.
If I was a CPA, I'd be a fiduciary. I'm a product consultant who puts the success of the company and team before my own success.
You can trust me because my God makes me better. Not perfect, but better – better at seeing people as people, not resources. Better at taking responsibility when things go wrong. Better at caring about the impact of my work on real human lives.
When I left Missouri State University for Adaptavist, something happened that I didn't expect. Three people I'd worked with reached out asking if there were openings: Ryan first, then Brenda, then Jonny. I recruited them because I knew they were excellent, and they came because they wanted to work with me again.
Soon we had a physical office in Springfield. Adaptavist was based in London, but we grew to 8 people locally, and it made sense to have a local presence.
Here's what's notable: only Ryan was on my team. Brenda and Jonny joined other teams at Adaptavist. They didn't follow me because they wanted to be on my team specifically – they followed me because they trusted that wherever I was, the work would be meaningful, the culture would be healthy, and they'd be treated well.
It became an established fact across Adaptavist that people on other teams wanted to transfer to my team. Not because my team had easier work, but because everyone on my team loved their jobs. They had clear direction, got good feedback, worked sustainable hours, and felt valued.
Not everyone at Adaptavist could say that about their boss or department. Many were stressed, lacked clear direction, got poor feedback, and worked long hours.
People love having me as a boss. Not because I'm easy on them, but because I care about them as humans.

Matthew brings energy and enthusiasm into every room. His ability to apply his vast product and project management skills while garnering the support of the development teams that he manages is impressive! I am grateful for his mentorship and his contagious desire to never stop learning and becoming better in all things, professionally and personally.

Immediately after joining our team, Matthew's experience, knowledge, and value became apparent. He clearly articulated the "why" behind the project to which he was assigned, improved processes, and gained team buy-in.
Matthew is a strong leader, able to mentor and teach, and he has a breadth of experience and understanding across many industries and supporting companies at all stages of their journey.

Matthew has that rare ability to see both the forest AND the trees. A gifted strategic thinker, an engaged people manager and a creative and innovative solutions architect.
Any organization that is fortunate enough to work with Matthew will be far better off for having done so.

Matthew leads with empathy, kindness, and a calm, consistent presence. He balances high standards with a genuine commitment to work-life balance, and he offered thoughtful guidance not just on my work, but on my career and life more broadly. He is a wealth of technical and organizational knowledge. He also navigates challenges and conflicts with respect and clarity. As a product leader or coach, Matthew is the kind of person who leaves a lasting, positive impact on every team he joins."

What sets Matthew apart is his Mr. Rogers-like demeanor. His ability to foster collaboration and create an atmosphere of trust and respect made even the most difficult tasks manageable and, dare I say, enjoyable.
Matthew is the kind of professional you want on your team when stakes are high and the path forward is uncertain. His technical and strategic excellence is matched only by his character, and I cannot recommend him highly enough.

I met Matthew when I was applying for an Internship in the United States. I just came from the Netherlands and I was desperately searching for an internship in the United States.
He helped me with improving my documents, scheduling, planning but also improving my English and grammar. For him it was probably difficult to work with me as a foreign person with different beliefs and a thick accent, but he stayed calm and we both got the best out of each other.
Matthew sees opportunities and solutions that others may not even have thought about.
Collective Health brought me in when they got $36 million in funding and needed help scaling from 35 to 500 people in 6 months. They trusted me to help them grow without breaking.
KPMG brought me in to guide a pilot program for 20,000 of their employees. They trusted me with a massive organizational initiative affecting thousands of people.
I led an 80-person team at Stride with a $10 million annual budget. They trusted me with both the people and the money.
These aren't small bets. When companies give you multi-million dollar budgets and large teams, they're betting on your judgment, your ethics, and your ability to deliver.
I've delivered. Consistently. Over 20+ years.
The number of actual failures I've had can be counted on one hand.
I'm not perfect. I have failed.
I built a product from the ground up at Adaptavist. Came up with the idea, built the team, did all the product management work, handled marketing and sales, and led the engineers. And then I had to kill it because a competitor got too far ahead of us, and continuing would have been throwing good money after bad.
That was a failure.
I've also had interpersonal failures where I handled conflict poorly. I was younger and lacked the experience I have now. I learned from those experiences.
As Ed Sheeran puts it in his song "Tides," I don't have regrets but I wish I'd done things in a different way. The reason I don't have regrets is because I deliberately choose not to… though, I really do regret the interpersonal failures. At the same time, I was younger and lacked the experience I have now, and I view every failure as an opportunity to grow and learn and do better.
You can trust me not because I never fail. You can trust me because when I do fail, I take responsibility and grow from it.
Leadership isn't always about finding a way forward. Sometimes it's about saying no – even when that no costs you something.
I've had executives who wanted my team to work nights and weekends. Not because there was a real emergency, but because it would make the executive look good to their boss.
I said no, and I explained why: burning out my team to serve someone's ego would lead to worse performance and make it harder to hit our actual objectives. I owed it to my team to protect them, and I owed it to the company to tell the truth about what would actually work.
The executive wasn't happy with me. But the team stayed healthy, we hit our objectives, and I kept my commitment to be the kind of leader I'd decided to be when I was 9 years old.
I've also had clients who wanted work done that I knew was a bad idea. Work that wouldn't help them achieve their goals, that would waste their money and their team's time. I explained why it was a bad idea and what I thought would actually help them. When they insisted, I told them I wouldn't deliver a guaranteed failure and take their money to do it.
I turned down the business.
Some consultants would take that money. "The client asked for it, so I delivered it – not my problem if it doesn't work."
I can't do that. I owe people more than that. If I know something won't work, and I do it anyway because you're paying me, I'm not serving you – I'm serving myself.
That's not the kind of person I am, and it’s not the kind of work I want to do.
Here's what it comes down to.
I've been working with computers since before I could read. But I also chose to spend years studying why humans believe what they believe and how to communicate with them.
I've led multi-million dollar projects and managed teams of 80+ people. But what I'm most proud of is that people follow me from company to company because they trust me.
I've had executives try to get me to burn out my teams for their ego. But I said no, because I owe my team more than that.
I've had clients want to pay me for work I knew wouldn't help them. But I turned it down, because I owe people honesty.
This is who I am:
Someone who asks "why" until I understand the root cause.
Someone who listens to what people mean, not just what they say.
Someone who believes I owe you more than just a diagnosis – I owe you recommendations that serve both your company and the humans doing the work.
Someone who takes responsibility when things go wrong.
Someone who doesn't give up on people.
You can trust me with your team because I see them as humans, not resources. Because I take responsibility for the impact of my recommendations on real people's lives. Because I believe in helping teams work better together – not just making systems more efficient.
I help teams work better together. I do this because I love them.
I love them because God loves me and tells me to love those He loves.
That's what I do. That's who I am. And that's why you can trust me.
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Springfield, Missouri, USA
Springfield, Missouri, USA
© 2025 Fieldway - All Rights Reserved