Once upon a time, in a busy software company, there was a Product Owner named Marla. Marla believed firmly in the principles of Scrum. She often said, “The team decides what goes into the sprint. That’s how Scrum works.” She had the Scrum Guide practically memorized and was proud of how efficiently her teams ran.
One day, however, she overheard a quiet conversation in the hallway. “It doesn’t feel like we really get to decide what’s in the sprint.” “Yeah, planning’s already done when we walk in.” Marla was stunned. That couldn’t be right. If the team felt that way, they were mistaken. It wasn’t how Scrum worked, and they should know better. If they didn’t feel ownership, well, that was on them.
That evening, as she prepared her usual polished sprint planning deck, a strange wind stirred in her closed office. The air shimmered like heat on pavement. In a golden flash, Marla vanished.
She awoke on a sun-soaked beach. Warm sand beneath her, palm trees overhead, and ocean stretching to the horizon. Dazed, she sat up, just as a group of people in bright woven garments began approaching her from the treeline. And then, just before they reached her, she heard it: a voice. Not loud, but far away and ringing with an eerie clarity, as though it echoed from the clouds:
“You may not leave this island…
until you convince them that ice exists.”
Marla blinked. “Ice?” But the voice had gone. The villagers reached her, smiling warmly. They welcomed her, brought her fresh fruit and cool water, and offered her a place to rest.
Over the next few days, Marla tried to fulfill the task. She explained ice as clearly as she could: how water, when cold enough, becomes solid. She drew pictures in the sand. She mimicked the clink of cubes in glasses. But the tribe only shook their heads. “Water cannot become hard,” said one. “That is not how the world works,” said another. “That is not how the climate works,” said the Chief. She grew frustrated. “But just because you’ve never seen it doesn’t mean it’s not real!” They smiled kindly, but went back to their daily routines.
Marla began to despair. Days passed. She sat staring at the ocean, wondering if she’d ever leave. Then, one afternoon, a young man named Tahi approached her. “I believe you,” he said softly. Marla turned. “You do?” “Yes,” he said. “I’ve never seen frozen water. But I believe the world is bigger than this island. And just because something is impossible here… doesn’t mean it’s impossible somewhere else.”
And in that moment, like the closing of a circuit, the breeze picked up again. The air shimmered gold. Marla shut her eyes…… and opened them back at her desk. Everything was just as she had left it: the sprint plan was ready, her slides neatly organized, the board already filled with tasks she thought the team should pick up. She rubbed her forehead. The young man’s voice from the island still echoed in her mind: “Just because something is impossible in your world doesn’t mean it’s impossible somewhere else.”
She thought back to the conversation that she heard, before this journey had started: “We don’t really feel like we get to choose what goes into the sprint.” She hadn’t believed it. She hadn’t been able to believe it. Because that’s not how Scrum works… right?
But as she looked again at her laptop, at the fully prepped plan, something clicked. It wasn’t that her team didn’t understand Scrum. It was that her version of Scrum; her pre-filled boards, her detailed planning, her effort to be helpful and efficient; had created a climate where the team didn’t feel free to contribute.
She hadn’t believed their experience, because in her climate, that experience couldn’t exist. That was the true lesson of the island. Not just that people think differently… but that you can’t hear someone if you’ve already decided their world doesn’t fit into yours.
A few minutes later, she walked into the sprint planning room. She didn’t open her laptop. She didn’t start with slides. She didn’t present a plan. Instead, she looked around the room and said: “What do you think we should take on this sprint?” There was a moment of silence. Then, slowly, the team began to speak.
And it felt good. It felt like Scrum.