In the spring of 2011, I accepted an opportunity to shape a new organization and lead a team of UX designers, program managers, and front-end developers. It was my dream job and I was highly motivated for the challenge. I expected to excel from day one, but within the first week, I was overwhelmed. At three months, I was really struggling. After six months, I doubted my abilities to fill the role.

As a designer, I was confident in my work when I could anticipate what users do, and I had methods and tools to familiarize myself with patterns of user behavior. But when business leaders first began inviting me to meetings, I couldn’t anticipate what they would do. As a result, I was intimidated by the people in the room and their conversations. I assumed it was all very important, complex stuff, and my confidence was shot.

I thought about quitting and finding another gig, but it ultimately didn’t feel right. I had taken a big personal risk in leaving my previous company and felt like it was my responsibility to make it work. So I reached out to a wonderful mentor who I chatted with on a series of frequent walks. On one of these walks, he reminded me that the business people in these meetings were “just humans.” I was an expert in researching humans, wasn’t I? It was at that moment that I realized I knew more than I thought I did.

As I reflect on that experience, I realize I simply lacked the language to get others on board with my ideas. I was speaking design, but my colleagues were speaking business.

The more I witnessed status updates, task delegations, and pats on the back, the more I recognized behavior patterns and could anticipate what people in the room would do. I realized that similar patterns of behavior exist inside most organizations and industries, and the questions business leaders ask of design leaders are remarkably the same design leaders ask of their teams. The methods and tools I used as a designer to familiarize myself with patterns of user behavior could easily be applied to a new framework: learning business.

As I reflect on that experience, I realize I simply lacked the language to get others on board with my ideas. I was speaking design, but my colleagues were speaking business. I didn’t take the time to get to know their unique needs and objectives before I made suggestions on how I could improve things. But as I began to understand basic business concepts, my attitudes about design changed. I knew how design impacted the lives of customers, but I suddenly began to see how it affects the ability of business partners to make decisions as well. I realized that addressing only one perspective of value made it more difficult to gain consensus on my recommendations.

Turns out, choosing to stick it out ended up being the best professional decision I’ve ever made. By being uncomfortable, yet committed, I opened myself up to learning a new way to succeed. I had to adapt to survive, and that meant developing skills in an area I had previously trusted others to handle. And over the last 10 years, I’ve been able to expand and refine these skills while leading design and strategy at companies like EA, Nestlé, and USAA. What I’ve learned is if you understand the basics of the business model and strategies in which you’re working, you’ll be able to spend less time explaining the value of design and more time actually designing. It will also increase your credibility. Developing this understanding may be easier than you think.

I was speaking design, but my colleagues were speaking business.

As a designer, I was confident in my work when I could anticipate what users do, and I had methods and tools to familiarize myself with patterns of user behavior. But when business leaders first began inviting me to meetings, I couldn’t anticipate what they would do. As a result, I was intimidated by the people in the room and their conversations. I assumed it was all very important, complex stuff, and my confidence was shot.

I thought about quitting and finding another gig, but it ultimately didn’t feel right. I had taken a big personal risk in leaving my previous company and felt like it was my responsibility to make it work. So I reached out to a wonderful mentor who I chatted with on a series of frequent walks. On one of these walks, he reminded me that the business people in these meetings were “just humans.” I was an expert in researching humans, wasn’t I? It was at that moment that I realized I knew more than I thought I did.