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Career Highlights:

Aaron Cullers
Feb 9, 2026
It's not speed. It's panic.
Somewhere along the way, urgency became the default operating system. We adopted the panic. Were molded by it. I just wrote that and in my head I 1,000% used the Bane voice from ‘Dark Knight Rises’ as I did.
Every single thing anymore, is urgent. Each request is a fire, every Teams chat carries the emotional weight of a five-alarm marketing (or sales, or finance, or - ) fire. When your calendars fill up with stacks of meetings, your timelines compress worse than your back after sitting at your desk for eight hours.
Worse somehow, is that in the middle of all this motion, the actual work gets thinner, weaker, more reactive. Best laid plans, and all.
We live this cycle more times than we will ever proudly admit.
The cycle looks like this: A week where every meeting ends with “we need this by EOD.” A stretch where even lunch feels indulgent. And a creeping sense that if you just move faster, reply quicker, stay more available… things will stabilize. And the cycle repeats because… honestly… things don’t stabilize. They accelerate.
Eventually, we realize something uncomfortable: this isn’t a workload problem. It’s an operations problem. Urgency is the absence of decision-making dressed up as importance. It’s also what happens when everything is labeled critical because no one wants to choose what actually matters.
As a marketing leader, I see all the time that we often are the ones stuck keeping the maching humming along. Like we’re some sort of ‘bleed,’ or connective tissue that serves as a layer between “OMG” and “we can try?” Marketing absorbs chaos so the system can pretend it’s functional.
But false urgency is a big watch-out, too. False urgency thrives in environments where:
