Be A Goldfish

Contrary to the old myth, goldfish don’t actually have three-second memories. Recent research shows they can remember things for weeks or even months. They learn to navigate mazes, recognize human faces, and remember feeding schedules. They can distinguish between different people and even be trained to perform simple tricks. The goldfish memory myth persists because it’s convenient; it makes us feel better about keeping them in small bowls. But the truth is, goldfish remember far more than we give them credit for.

Unlike goldfish, we humans sometimes remember too much of the wrong things and too little of the right things.
How we remember isn’t like filing away a document. It’s more like painting a picture each time we recall something, and each painting looks a little different. The colors we choose, the details we emphasize, the parts we leave out—all shape not just the memory, but also how we feel about the person or situation we’re recalling.

I’ve watched this play out countless times in leadership. Two people experience the same meeting, but they walk away with completely different memories of what happened. One remembers the constructive feedback and collaborative problem-solving. The other remembers feeling criticized and dismissed. Both memories are “true” in their own way, but only one builds the foundation for future trust and cooperation.

Leadership is fundamentally about relationships, and relationships live in the space between our memories and our hopes. Without trust, leadership becomes nothing more than compliance driven by fear or necessity. Trust gets built through countless small interactions, and how we remember those interactions becomes the foundation for everything that follows.

Some of the most important work leaders do happens when they help teams remember their shared experiences. I’ve noticed that strong teams have developed their own language for talking about their history together. They reference past challenges not as failures to hide, but as proof of their ability to overcome difficulty. They celebrate successes in ways that acknowledge everyone’s contributions, not just the visible wins.

When a project fails, great leaders don’t pretend it succeeded. But they also don’t let the team remember only the failure. They help people see what was learned, how individuals showed character under pressure, and what capabilities were built for the future. These shared stories become the cultural foundation that shapes how the team approaches whatever comes next.

I had a colleague once tell me, “We all hate being lied to, but we don’t always want the truth.” Memory works similarly. We don’t want to forget what went wrong, but we also can’t let every disappointment define our expectations for the future.

Leaders face this tension constantly. Team members make mistakes. Projects fail. People let us down. Trust gets damaged. The question isn’t whether we remember these events—we will. The question is how we remember them. Do we file them away as evidence of someone’s limitations, or do we see them as part of a larger story about learning and growth?

This isn’t about being naive or ignoring patterns that matter. It’s about choosing to remember in ways that create space for people to surprise us.

The healthiest leaders I know have learned something that goldfish might understand instinctively. They remember what serves the mission and the people they lead, but they don’t let old disappointments control present possibilities. When someone walks into their office, they relate to who that person is today, not just to a collection of past interactions.

This takes discipline. Our brains are wired to notice and remember problems because that’s how we survive. But in leadership, this survival mechanism can become a trap. We start seeing people through the lens of their worst moments rather than through the lens of their potential.

Memory shapes everything about how we lead. We can choose to remember in ways that build trust and create shared purpose. Or we can let memory become a prison that limits our ability to see what’s possible in the people we serve.

Sometimes the wisest thing a leader can do is be like a goldfish. Remember what matters and let the rest fade where it belongs. Creating communities where people can grow beyond their past mistakes and into their future potential is the Bison Way.