Every morning for nearly three weeks, before I checked my email, I checked my internet data usage.
That sentence still feels ridiculous to write.
It started innocently enough. Cox sent me one of their automated emails warning me that I had reached 75% of my 1,280 GB monthly data allowance. That had never happened before, so I was a little concerned. I figured I had streamed a few extra shows or taught a couple more webinars than usual.
Then I opened the app.
On one day alone, I had used 224 GB of data.
For context, that was nearly half of my entire usage from the previous month.
And that’s when my relationship with my internet bill became…personal.
As someone who owns a business and works from home, I immediately did the math. Cox offered unlimited data for an additional $50 per month, which would take my $74 bill to $124.
That’s a 68% increase.
I wasn’t trying to save $50. I was trying to avoid making a permanent decision based on incomplete information.
So, naturally, I did what any reasonable leadership consultant would do.
I started investigating my Amazon Fire Stick and Apple TV.
Over the next several weeks, my daily conversations with Chad, my nickname for my AI assistant, became increasingly absurd.
“Good morning, Chad. The Fire Stick was active for 17 hours yesterday, and the TV was never on.”
“Chad, I think my MacBook Air is the problem.”
“Chad, Google Photos has consumed 12 GB in the last few days.”
“Chad, I may have accidentally become my own IT department.”
At first, I was certain I knew the answer.
It had to be my laptop.
Then it had to be Cox.
Then it had to be my iPhone.
Then it had to be Google Photos.
Then it had to be the Amazon Fire Stick, which appeared to have developed a secret life while I slept.
Meanwhile, the data refused to cooperate with my assumptions.
So we started testing.
I installed monitoring software on both Macs.
I had Cox audit my data usage to make sure they weren’t making a mistake. (They weren’t.)
I set downtime schedules on my router.
I tracked my AT&T cellular usage.
I reset my iPhone statistics.
And, in what felt like an extreme measure at the time, I turned the Wi-Fi off on my phone for more than a week.
If you’ve ever tried to run your life entirely on cellular data while bouncing between meetings, presentations, client calls, and watching reels (for an escape), I can assure you it’s an excellent exercise in patience.
Every morning became the same ritual.
Open the Cox app.
Hold breath.
Review the graph.
Send Chad screenshots from the previous 24 hours.
There were days the usage was 160 GB.
There were days it was 5 GB.
Somewhere around day ten, I realized I had become emotionally attached to a bar graph.
And that’s when it hit me.
I had already decided it was the Fire Stick’s fault before I had a single day of evidence to prove it.
This wasn’t really a technology problem.
It was a leadership problem.
Because leaders do this all the time.
Someone misses a deadline, and we think, “I already know why.”
An employee disengages, and we think, “I already know why.”
A project goes sideways, and we think, “I already know why.”
The problem isn’t a lack of intelligence.
The problem is our desire to arrive at certainty before the data is ready.
After more than 30 years in leadership, I’ve learned that curiosity is a discipline.
It requires us to sit in the discomfort of not knowing.
To resist the temptation to assign blame too quickly.
To gather more information.
To test our assumptions.
And sometimes, to turn off the Wi-Fi on our phones for a week.
As I write this, the Amazon Fire Stick remains under investigation. No comment at this time.
But I was reminded of something I’ve spent my entire career teaching:
Better decisions begin with better understanding.
And perhaps the most dangerous words in leadership aren’t:
“I don’t know.”
They’re:
“I already know why.”
I coach and consult with leaders on exactly this kind of thing — not internet bills, but the assumptions we make before we have the facts.
