It was about 5:30 in the morning.
I was sitting in my office with a cup of coffee, reading quietly with the blinds open. Outside, the neighborhood was still dark and peaceful—one of those early hours where the world feels paused between night and morning. Then I noticed a car pull up at the bottom of my driveway.
It wasn’t marked. It wasn’t a delivery van. It just sat there, idling. A moment later, a figure stepped out of the car and began walking up the drive toward my house. Instinctively, my attention sharpened. A stranger. In the dark. Approaching my door before sunrise.
And then something subtle—but decisive—happened.
The person raised their smartphone. The screen glowed brightly against the darkness, held up almost intentionally, as if to say, I'm on the job here, buddy. In that instant, my nerves settled. I knew exactly what I was seeing. This wasn’t a threat. It was a delivery. A gig worker already at it before dawn, moving packages through the invisible infrastructure that now hums quietly through our lives
What struck me wasn’t the delivery itself. It was how normal the moment felt. Because just four or five years ago, that same scene would have triggered a very different response. A nondescript car parked at the end of a driveway before dawn. A complete stranger walking toward the house in the dark. No visible uniform. No logo. No context. That moment would have felt alarming, not reassuring. The situation hadn’t changed. Cultural signals have.
The rise of the gig economy quietly rewired our expectations. Personal vehicles became delivery vehicles. Smartphones became symbols of legitimacy. Behaviors that once felt suspicious now feel routine. That glowing screen wasn’t just a phone—it was a cultural signal. A small one. An easy one to overlook. But one that carried meaning because something deeper had already shifted. This is how change usually arrives.
Cultural change doesn’t announce itself with headlines or strategy decks. It shows up in small behaviors that feel slightly out of place at first. In moments that would have made us uncomfortable not long ago but now pass without a second thought. Meaning changes before systems do, and our instincts adapt faster than our organizations.
Most companies miss these signals because they’re waiting for certainty. They wait for data to confirm what’s already happening. They wait for scale, for validation, for consensus. By the time everyone agrees something has changed, the opportunity to lead has already passed.
That’s why every organization needs what I call a weathervane.
A weathervane doesn’t create the wind. It doesn’t predict the storm. It simply pays attention to which way things are moving—often before anyone else feels the shift. Weathervanes are people who spend time out in the world, noticing how culture is behaving, not just how it’s being measured. They experience change firsthand and come back with observations that don’t yet fit neatly into dashboards or forecasts.
They’re the ones who say, “This feels different than it used to.” Or, “People are starting to behave in ways our data doesn’t fully explain.” They don’t always have proof, but they have perspective. And that perspective matters.
Historical data is important. Trends matter. Metrics matter. But history only tells you where you’ve been. It doesn’t tell you what people are beginning to accept, normalize, or expect right now. Culture moves faster than reporting cycles. Meaning shifts before numbers do.
That early morning delivery didn’t just bring a package to my door. It reminded me how easily we overlook the small signs that signal bigger shifts underway. The moments that feel insignificant are often the ones worth paying attention to. They’re early indicators of how trust, behavior, and expectations are evolving.
The companies that stay relevant aren’t the ones with the most data. They’re the ones with the most awareness. They create space for people to notice what’s changing and to talk about it before it becomes obvious. At Always Future, we believe the future isn’t something you wait for—it’s something you learn to notice.
Reach out to give voice to your Weathervanes - [email protected]
