Motivating Software Teams: Purpose-Driven Development

Audio Discussion

What happens when a software team discovers the true impact of their work? Not through corporate messaging or vision statements, but through a raw, unexpected encounter with reality?

At MedTech, Marco’s software team is about to find out. When a mysterious all-hands meeting is called, they assume it’s just another corporate announcement.

As the story unfolds, we’ll discover how a powerful reminder of purpose might be exactly what Marco needs to transform his team’s approach to their big project, Denali.

This is a story about software development, yes. But more importantly, it’s a story about what happens when technical excellence meets genuine human impact - and how that combination might just change everything.

Key take-aways and links to additional resources are at the end of this article.

Please note that all people and companies mentioned in this article are fictional.

We Make Miracles

The email arrived at 6:47 AM, jolting Marco’s phone to life before his alarm.

From: Grant Charlesworth III, CEO
Subject: Mandatory All-Hands Meeting

He squinted at the screen, coffee not yet diffused through his system, and read the terse message requiring everyone’s presence in the cafeteria Friday at 0800 sharp. No exceptions.

By the time he reached his office, the rumors had circulated through MedTech’s corridors. He passed Ellen from Accounting in the hallway. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she said to Clay, “…but the quarterly numbers weren’t that bad…” Two engineers from the mechanical team huddled over a laptop, frantically pulling up stock prices and competitor news.

Marco’s software team pinged him on Teams.

Any intel on the all-hands? asked Raj.

Questioning emojis from the others flooded the screen.

Marco typed and retyped his response, finally settling on: Let’s just focus on our sprint goals for now. Friday will come soon enough.

The next afternoon, Marco was adding cream to his coffee when Kris, the VP of HR, entered the break room. She wore her usual friendly smile, but he noticed the tension in her shoulders as she reached for a cup.

“Kris, fancy running into you here,” he said, trying to sound casual.

“Don’t even try, Marco.” Her smile widened, but her eyes remained serious. “I know what you’re going to ask, and I can’t tell you anything about Friday.”

“Can’t blame me for trying.” He watched as she hurried out with her coffee, already thumbing through messages on her phone.

The next two days crawled by. Marco’s team was almost too productive, their nervous energy channeled into rapid-fire commits and pull requests. During their daily stand-up on Thursday in the Jupiter room, Mei voiced what everyone was thinking. “Should we be worried?”

Marco leaned back in his chair, considering his response before speaking. “Look, here’s what we know: nothing. MedTech’s numbers are steady. Could be restructuring, could be an acquisition, could be Grant wanting to show off his new ping pong skills.” Tight smiles appeared around the table. “Whatever it is, worrying won’t change it. Let’s just keep building good software.”

Friday morning arrived under gray skies. As Marco walked across the parking lot, the distinctive whump-whump-whump of helicopter blades cut through the quiet and his attention. Employees stopped in their tracks, heads turning skyward as a sleek, black helicopter descended on the visitor parking area. Through the mist, Marco watched a tall figure in an impeccable suit drop from the cabin and duck beneath the spinning rotors. Grant Charlesworth hurried out to meet the man, hand extended.

In the cafeteria, Marco’s team gravitated together, claiming chairs near their usual allies from Electrical and Mechanical. Raj was mid eye roll about Legal’s choice to cluster by the exit (“Classic them, always with an escape route”) when the lights dimmed.

Charlesworth stepped up to the podium. “Good morning, everyone,” he said. “I’d like to introduce Robert Fisher.”

The tall man stood and stepped forward, his presence commanding the room. He moved to the podium with the easy confidence of someone accustomed to addressing crowds, yet there was something different in his manner—something personal.

“Good morning,” Fisher said. His voice was warm and surprisingly gentle for a man his size. “I apologize for the early hour and the mystery surrounding my visit.” He clicked a small remote, and the giant screen behind him flickered to life. An image filled the screen: a sun-drenched beach scene, a laughing woman with windswept hair chasing three children across the sand, their faces bright with joy. “This is my family,” Fisher said, his tone soft. “My wife Rachel and our three amazing kids.” He advanced through more photos—birthday parties, hiking trips, quiet moments at home—painting a picture of a life filled with love and privilege.

He paused, his hand hovering over the remote before he spoke quietly. “We had tried for years to have children. Through multiple rounds of IVF and one blessed adoption, we built our family. Each of our children is a miracle to us, especially our youngest, Sophie.”

The cafeteria was still, intense. Marco could almost feel his team leaning forward, the usual skepticism of corporate presentations forgotten. Even the ambient hum of the ventilation system seemed to have faded away.

Fisher clicked the remote again. The idyllic family scenes vanished, replaced by an image that drew a gasp from the room. A charcoal gray Volvo sedan, or what remained of it, crumpled like paper from a high-speed impact. The timestamp in the corner read 3:47 AM.

“Six months ago,” Fisher said, his voice thick with emotion, “Sophie was coming home from a friend’s house. The other driver ran a red light. He walked away, but Sophie…” He roughly cleared his throat. “Sophie didn’t.”

The mangled Volvo disappeared, and the next photo presented the sterile whites and blues of a hospital room. Medical equipment crowded around a bed, the screens and wires creating a technological cocoon. The patient’s face was blurred, but the pale figure beneath the sheets was unmistakably a child. The doctors and nurses wore grave expressions.

“For seventy-two hours, Rachel and I watched every breath, every heartbeat on those monitors, but Sophie’s brain was swelling, and the doctors…” His voice caught. He pulled in a deep breath. “They said our only hope was to keep her in a controlled coma.”

He stepped closer to the screen, raising his hand to point out a device that most everyone in the room would recognize in their sleep: the MedTech Rainier infusion pump, its familiar blue housing and LED display nearly lost among the bulkier equipment.

Fisher turned to face the room, his eyes sweeping across the attendees. “This pump—your pump—delivered the exact right amount of medication, every second, for three days straight. Not once did it falter. Not once did it fail.” He scanned their attentive faces as the words sank in. “While Rachel and I prayed and waited, completely helpless, your work—your dedication to precision, to quality, to excellence—was helping to keep our daughter alive.”

Marco felt Mei grip his arm. Around him, his team sat frozen, their restless energy replaced by something deeper. He tried to read their expressions.

Awe? Confusion? Or maybe pride? Marco wondered.

Even the HR and Legal tribes seemed to have lost their professional distance.

“Sophie woke up on the fourth day,” Fisher said, a smile moving across his face. “She’s back in school now, back to arguing with her siblings about whose turn it is to walk the dog.” He clicked to a final image: Sophie, clearly recovered, laughing as she threw a tennis ball to a golden retriever.

“Folks, I’m not here to announce a merger or a restructuring or anything else you might have been worried about,” he said. “I’m here because I needed to thank you in person. Each of you—whether you wrote the code, designed the circuits, tested the systems, handled the paperwork, or supported the people who did—you are part of the reason my daughter is alive.”

The silence in the cafeteria was absolute.

“You don’t just make medical devices.” He drew his hands toward his chest, eyes bright and sincere. “You make miracles possible.”

For the next hour, Robert Fisher circulated among the employees of MedTech. The conversations were warm and genuine, punctuated by handshakes and occasional hugs. Marco watched his team members interact with Fisher, noting how their usual professional detachment had given way to something more personal, more meaningful.

After Fisher had spoken with everyone, Grant Charlesworth took the microphone to close the meeting. He thanked Fisher for sharing his powerful story, though Marco noticed the CEO seemed almost as moved as everyone else.

Fisher offered a final wave goodbye before heading out to his waiting helicopter. As the sound of rotors faded into the distance, employees began filing back to their work areas. The usual post-meeting chatter was replaced by a reflective calm that seemed to follow everyone through the halls.

Marco spent the rest of the day watching his team. They were quieter than usual, but their work had a different quality to it - more deliberate, perhaps. More purposeful. As he drove home that evening, an idea began forming in his mind.

He pulled out his phone and texted Sam: “Hey man, had a good day at work. Let’s get together for a drink on Saturday.”

Sam’s reply came quickly: “You got it. See you at The Cut Shop at 4.”

That Saturday, Sam was waiting when Marco rolled in. “Let me grab a beer and a sandwich” he said to Sam, who was waiting for him at their usual table. Sam was already enjoying his usual order: a shot of Red Breast, neat, and an order of fries.

When Marco returned with his order, he and Sam got down to business. After catching up, Sam asked Marco to update him on the situation at MedTech:

“Things are going pretty well. You know that I have been concerned with ensuring that my team will have a relatively flat demand curve. Sarah and I talked about it. I used the analogy of a tractor pull with her, and she understood it immediately. She then put together a presentation for the rest of the team. She did a great job and I think it’s safe to say that everyone now understands that on Denali, we intend to do whatever we have to do to keep the demand on the team relatively constant over the course of the project.”

“That’s smart, Marco. Keeping the load on the team more or less constant - and well-within their capacity to process it - will help a lot. Everyone’s lives will be better.

Of course, it’s only half of the picture.”

Marco looked puzzled. “Half of the picture?”

“Yes. If you want predictable outcomes on your project, the work to be done has to be under control, and the ability of your team to process that work also has to be maintained.”

“I see what you’re saying. Keeping the workload - what we are calling the demand on the group - constant won’t be enough if the group’s ability to complete the work is fluctuating significantly.”

“Exactly right,” said Sam, and then he continued.

“Now, it sounds to me like this surprise visit from Mr. Fisher is a real opportunity for you.”

“How so?” asked Marco.

Sam thought for a bit, took a sip of whiskey and then continued.

“Years ago, some politician made a cynical remark: ‘Never let a good crisis go to waste.’ I don’t really like that sentiment. However, it occurred to me that I could invert it.”

“Invert it?” Marco asked.

“Yeah. How about something like: ‘Never let a good outcome go to waste.’”

“Makes sense. The visit by Fisher feels like a good outcome. Maybe I can capitalize on it?”

“You can,” said Sam.

Marco took a gulp of his beer and sat quietly for a bit, thinking.

“I know you’re right, Sam. I just don’t have the full picture yet.”

“Well, think of what we discussed today. I’m confident that you have all the prerequisites. You just have to figure out how you want to fit them together.”

Marco started to protest, but something in Sam’s expression made him pause. His friend was gazing out the window, a familiar distant look in his eyes.

“I won’t always be here, Marco.”

The words hung in the air between them, weighted with more meaning than their simple surface. Marco knew better than to push back against this particular mood of Sam’s. Instead, he took another sip of his beer and let the silence settle, comfortable in its own way.