This Is How You Know You Care
When invisible details matter more than anyone realizes.
I moved three books on my office shelf. Not because I needed them, or because they were out of order, but because I wanted the composition of my virtual background to look more harmonious for whoever was on the other side of the screen.
While moving the books, holding a copy of Conversations with Artists, I paused. What was I doing? It felt ridiculous. Who would even notice? It was a mentoring session I was about to have with the students from the MIT startup incubator.
Have you ever caught yourself obsessing over something invisible to most—and done it anyway?
Maybe it's the wording of an email that only three people will read. Maybe it's the alignment of elements on a slide deck that will be seen once and forgotten. Maybe it's the way you organize files in a folder no one else accesses.
The Madness That Makes the Work Whole
That moment brought to mind Robert Irwin (one of my favorite artists - ever!).
The pioneering Light and Space artist spent weeks, sometimes months, finishing the undersides of his canvases and the insides of stretcher bars—parts absolutely no one would ever see. When asked why, he said simply:
"Any gesture or act that you're involved in should read all the way through."
Most of us would call that excessive. Even Irwin acknowledged that few, if any, would ever notice these hidden details. But he didn't do it for recognition or praise. He did it because to leave any part unfinished was to leave the entire work unresolved.
This wasn't about perfection. It was about integrity.
But here's where it gets interesting. Irwin's obsession with invisible craftsmanship might sound like artist eccentricity—the kind of behavior we expect from creative types but dismiss as impractical in business.
And yet, some of the world’s most admired companies operate with the same philosophy—down to the smallest, hidden details.
The Business of Hidden Care
In the same conversation with Patrick Collison from Stripe (I told you I’d keep coming back to it—it’s a gem!), Jony Ive—Apple’s legendary Chief Design Officer—described spending a Sunday afternoon obsessing over how to wrap a power cable inside a product box. Even the most mundane experiences—like unwrapping a cable—can commun
icate love, consideration, and respect for the user.
That cable was just one example. During his years at Apple, Ive and his team obsessed over the interior surfaces of devices—circuit board layouts, screw placement, the box, the unboxing experience. These were places no customer would ever see.
These details didn't make the products work better. They expressed values. At the same conversation, Ive said:
“You sense carelessness. And so I think it's reasonable to believe that you also know care.”
This philosophy traces back to Steve Jobs, who learned it from his father. Paul Jobs, a machinist and carpenter, taught young Steve to finish the back of the fence—even if no one would see it. "You'll know," he said. "And that will show you're dedicated to making something excellent."
That ethic followed Steve Jobs into Apple and became part of the company's DNA. It's why the original Macintosh was as elegant inside as outside. It's why Apple became the kind of company that made customers feel excellence long before they could articulate why.
The invisible parts were the culture.
Is it Too Much?
But let's be honest about the tension here. When you find yourself caring about details no one will see, there's always that voice asking: is this too much? Is this obsessive? Does it even matter?
In business, this kind of care often gets dismissed as inefficiency. Time wasted. But I believe it’s a form of creative leadership. This is part of Business Artistry—the craft of shaping not just the object, but the ethic behind it. Leaders who understand this know that care is a leadership trait.
If you've ever cringed at a poorly kerned presentation title, or straightened a chair before a meeting that might not happen, or rewritten an internal memo that only your team will read—you know this feeling. You wonder if you're being excessive.
You're not. You're being human-centered. You respect your audience.
Because here's what I've learned: superficiality shows. Always. People might not be able to point out what's wrong, but they can feel it when something is unfinished, when corners are cut, or when someone doesn't care enough to sweat the invisible details.
The opposite is also true. Care accumulates. When small things are built with attention—even invisible ones—they add up to something greater. They become trust.
And trust, unlike features or code or design, is never seen directly. But people feel when it's there. They know when someone has thought through not just what they'll see, but what they won't.
You see this principle in action across every field.
The chef who plates a dish beautifully even for takeout orders knows this. The engineer who comments their code clearly, even on internal tools, knows this. The manager who crafts thoughtful one-on-one agendas, even when they're running behind, knows this.
None of these details may be noticed in the moment. But they signal something deeper about how you work, how you think, and what you value.
They signal that you care about the whole experience, not just the visible parts.
This is how you know you care: when you're obsessed with the invisible parts your user will never see.
And this is why it matters: care isn't just craft—it's leadership. The leaders who understand this know that excellence isn't built in the visible moments. It's built in all the moments no one sees.
So—what's one meaningful detail you can tend to this week, something your customer might never notice, but would absolutely feel?
Would love to hear your thoughts,
NIR
If helping your team create with meaning is on your mind, this is exactly what I speak about. Curious what that could look like in your organization? Let’s talk.
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