Adapt. Re-adapt. Repeat.

I’ve Always Valued Change

I used to think change was the point. Turns out, staying changed is the real challenge.

I've always considered myself someone who's pretty good at navigating through change. Adaptable. In fact, I remember telling my soon-to-be-wife once upon a time that if I knew what I'd be doing in 5 years, that thought would scare me. It would have to be something new. Something I hadn't even considered yet.

Change is fickle, though. 
For example, sometimes, it makes things a LOT easier.

I used to use a typewriter for final versions of term papers, reports, and other documents. I would write out the original on paper by hand, edit, cross stuff out, rewrite. For the final version, I would go to my father's trusty IBM Selectric typewriter and type it out, one page at a time. That meant retyping entire pages if I changed my mind about a paragraph. Most of the time, I just left it alone—not because it was right, but because fixing it was too much work.

Then came computers and word processors. Suddenly, I could cut, paste, and move things around. It didn’t just make editing easier—it changed how I thought. I loved it. All I had to do was print it.

Once you adapt, you don’t want to go back. But here’s the catch: just because you adapted once doesn’t mean you’re done.

When the Model Changes

Take ChatGPT.

I used the 4o model for the last year or so. I got used to how it responded to prompts. I got fluent. I had a system that delivered what I needed. It worked.

Then came the 5 model. It's supposed to be an improvement.

Improvement or not, it is a change.

Now I have to learn again. Not from scratch—but in some ways, that’s the problem. I’m not a blank slate anymore. I have expectations. Habits. A mental model I now need to reset or unlearn before I can build a new one.

It’s like I said in You’re Measuring the Wrong Thing: we crave clarity, and we use numbers and systems to give us the illusion of control. But when those systems change, we’re forced to confront how much we were relying on false certainty.

Do I abandon ChatGPT? Maybe switch to Claude?

For a minute, that felt like a solution. But then I realized: it doesn’t change anything. The next model will break my work processes, too. It will likely improve. And shift in ways I can’t predict. And I’ll be back here again.

The real question isn’t which tool to use. It’s whether I’m willing to adapt again—even when I thought I already had.

Re-Adaptation Hurts More

That’s the harder part of adaptability. Not the initial shift, but the re-adaptation. The muscle you have to keep using. The one that aches more each time because you’ve done this already.

Even I took things for granted. I adapted once and expected it to hold.

But adaptability isn’t a milestone. It’s a mindset. It’s what helps you stay functional—even when the ground keeps moving.

I’ve started thinking of this as the re-adaptation reflex. It’s not about being flexible once. It’s about staying flexible.

It Happens in Business

I’ve seen this play out in my work with analyst relations.

You finally get a handle on how Gartner or Forrester works. You nail the briefing format. You figure out the personalities, the expectations, the signals that matter.

Then someone leaves. The criteria changes. A new Magic Quadrant emerges. The game shifts—and suddenly, what you adapted to no longer applies.

You’re not starting over. But it feels like it. Because now you have to relearn how to win—with tools and muscles you thought you’d already built.

Narratives Need Re-Adaptation, Too

It’s the same with company narratives.

You think you’ve nailed the story. You’ve got alignment. Sales is saying it. The website reflects it. The pitch deck lands. It works.

But the market shifts. Customers change. Competitors reframe. The narrative you adapted to—the one you built systems around—starts falling flat. And the question becomes: do you double down, or...re-adapt?

As I wrote in People Like Bad Pizza, success depends on context. The best story isn’t the one that sounds the most polished—it’s the one that fits the situation your customer is actually in.

That’s where real narrative leadership shows up.

It’s not just about consistency. It’s about curiosity. It’s about making space for signals you didn’t expect. The key isn’t control—it’s authentic listening.

Adaptability in storytelling means being willing to hear what no longer resonates. And to change—even when you thought you were done changing.

You Thought You Were Done

That’s the part no one tells you: 

Adapting the first time is hard. 
Adapting again is harder. 
Adapting when you thought you were done—that’s the real test.

Because it’s not just the work that’s changed. It’s you. The way you think. The systems you trust. The narrative you’ve been telling yourself.

And when all of that breaks? You can either protect the old version… or stay open long enough to build a new one.

That’s not failure. That’s not weakness. That’s what adaptability really looks like.

BERKSON’S BITS

Farming Beginner’s Luck

This week I've got a guest insight for Berkson's Bits, from none other than artist Charlie Rodriguez (aka @rhoser) who adds visual storytelling to each issue of The Narrative Intel:

Farming 'beginner's luck' tokens. I LOVE that metaphor. 
I prefer to call his work exceptional, but what artist is ever satisfied? That’s a mindset built for adaptability.

What I'm Watching...

I first came across Elle Cordova with her work as a musician under the name Reina del Cid. I now frequently see her very nerdy, humorous TikToks on topics like grammar and the Higgs Boson. In this conversation on Simon Sinek's podcast I love how they explore the concepts of boredom, creativity, and creating space for rumination. And I've now added "Roswell Time" to my daily calendar. 

If you're tired of having to adapt again, you're not alone. Honestly, that’s how you know you’re doing it right. You don’t need to be unshakable. You just need to notice when things start to shake—and keep moving anyway.

Because the breakthrough isn’t the end. The real work starts when you have to adjust after the breakthrough. When the version you thought was final… isn’t.

That’s the part nobody celebrates. But it’s where the real story lives. 

That’s what adaptability really looks like. At least that's how I see it. How about you? 

Looking forward to continuing the conversation...

Alan