What a misstep on a remote farm in Myanmar taught me about leadership, listening, and last-mile sales The Morning That Felt Different It was the kind of morning I’ve come to know well in rural Myanmar’s dry zone—quiet, golden, and already heavy with heat. The overnight bus from Yangon had dropped me in Magway at 4 a.m. The streets were still asleep, save for the occasional trishaw gliding past. I rented a small motorbike, found a local tea shop that was just beginning to stir, and waited for the first light with a cup of sweet, thick Burmese tea. I’d done this countless times—early field visits that began in silence and dust, long before any office opened. But this visit felt different. I wasn’t here to just observe or support. I was here to quietly assess one of our most promising team leads. Meet “Spiky Head” Everyone on the team called him Spiky Head —a nickname earned as much for his wild, uncombed hair as for his sharp, unfiltered energy. He had outsold everyone in the regi...
The Day I Lost Face—and Felt Most Proud
Dust, Deal and Field Notes – Issue #3
Lessons from the road in last-mile distribution and decentralized leadership in Myanmar
This article explores how a moment of failure taught me the power of decentralized leadership in sales teams
The Unexpected Oasis in the Dry Zone
We were on the road to Kamma Township, in Tayet District, Magway Region—a place I’ve always found quietly beautiful. It sits in one of the driest zones in Myanmar. Dusty plains stretch far and wide, and when the sun hits the land just right, it feels like you’re standing on the edge of a desert. But when the waters retreat, when the rivers and creeks step back just a little, the soil tells another story.
This part of Magway becomes an unlikely oasis. Rich in nutrients carried by the floods, the soil needs no chemical fertilizers. Farmers here grow some of the country’s best onions and sesame, and they trust the land. They know the timing of the water, the weight of the sun, and the kind of seeds that thrive in silence.
I was traveling with my Zone Manager, Chit Kaung, who leads our sales team across eight townships in this region. Over the past year, his zone had become one of the top-performing in the country—and I wanted to see why.
When You Give Up Control to Build Real Ownership
Last year, I made a decision that could’ve easily gone wrong. I dismantled our centralized system. No more top-down approvals. No regional offices. No field supervisors holding clipboards. I gave full autonomy to each zone, including the power to hire and fire, design commission structures, and shape their own operations—within a shared framework of KPIs and backbone policies.
I wasn’t sure if it would work. But I knew it had to be tried.
Now, a year later, I was riding through the backroads of Magway, visiting installations, speaking with customers, and trying to learn—quietly—from the people who made it work.
Old Habits, New Rules
Late that morning, we arrived at a customer’s house where Chit Kaung’s team was doing an installation. While he coached his sales reps and gave technical guidance, I wandered off. Not far from the house, I noticed a man leaning against a tree, watching everything from a distance.
I’ve been in sales for over two decades. That instinct doesn’t go away.
I walked over, introduced myself, asked a few questions, and in the space of ten minutes, I sold him a system. It felt natural. We shook hands. I called over Chit Kaung and said, “I’ve got a new customer for you—can your team take the measurements?”
They did. We calculated everything. And just before signing the contract, the customer reached for his wallet to pay the down payment.
Chit Kaung turned to me and asked, “Boss, is this cash down or installment?”
I said, “Installment,” without thinking twice.
He paused. Look at me.
“We don’t allow installment sales in this zone,” he said. “It’s our rule. No one’s allowed to do it.”
When You Get It Wrong—In Front of Everyone
I froze.
In our national structure, we allow both cash and installment sales. But in his zone, I had not realized they had made a different choice. Their rule, created by the zone itself, was cash-only—to maintain financial discipline and avoid follow-up collection issues.
The customer was standing right there. Quiet, attentive. I had two choices.
I could step in, pull rank, and override the decision—after all, I was the one who’d set the national structure. Or I could respect the policy, lose face in front of the customer, and hold myself accountable to the very system I’d created.
I turned to the customer.
“I’m really sorry,” I said. “Even though I’m their boss, I don’t interfere with zone policies. This was my mistake. If it helps, I’m happy to pay on your behalf.”
Chit Kaung cut in, gently but firmly. “Boss, we don’t allow third-party payments either. That’s also our policy. Customers must pay for themself.”
Now I was sweating. Literally. And maybe a bit emotionally too.
But the customer smiled. “It’s fine. I’ll pay cash,” he said. “This is the first time I’ve seen a boss respect his team’s rules like this. Especially in a village.”
Real Leadership Happens When You Let Go
On the way back, we were quiet for a while. Just the hum of the dusty road and the heat.
Then, as usual we sat on the road side , the way back to our hotels, just to reflect on what we did today and Chit Kaung said, “Boss, I hope you’re not upset. I had to hold the line. Since you gave us freedom to run our zones, I can’t make exceptions. I told my guys no one could sell on installment, and they’re watching me. If I bend the rule—even for you—it all breaks.”
I smiled.
“Chit Kaung,” I said, “you made me proud today.”
The Foundation We Built Actually Worked
That night, I lay on the bed in the small hotel room, the fan spinning above me, and thought about the day.
It’s easy to preach decentralization. It’s harder to live with it—especially when it humbles you in public.
But this was the proof. In one of the driest, most remote parts of Myanmar, I saw a team that had taken ownership—not just of sales, but of leadership. A team that respected policies they wrote, enforced discipline without fear, and believed in the structure we had set together.
And maybe the real win wasn’t the customer or the sale.
Maybe it was that moment, when the manager said “no” to his boss—and did it with honor, not rebellion. When the system didn’t need a supervisor to protect it. When culture held the ground.
That day, I lost face. But I saw something stronger rise in its place.
A team that had become unshakable.
Field Note:
- Real decentralization begins when your people can say “no” to you. That’s when you know you’ve built something stronger than control—you’ve built trust.
- Decentralization in sales teams can lead to greater ownership and resilience.
- Failure can be a powerful teacher in leadership.
- Trusting your team can yield unexpected positive results.
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