Great Work

Have you ever wondered why some people seem to make work that inspires others—while most of us simply complete tasks? In Great Work: How to Make a Difference People Love, David Sturt tackles this question head-on. He argues that making a lasting impact isn’t reserved for geniuses or CEOs—it’s available to anyone willing to approach their work differently. Sturt contends that great work begins not when we chase perfection or clock hours, but when we ask what others would deeply love—then learn how to deliver it.

The book was born out of a massive study conducted by the O.C. Tanner Institute, analyzing over 1.7 million examples of award-winning work across industries. Sturt and his team discovered that great work isn’t a gift bestowed on a lucky few; it follows patterns and skills that anyone can learn. These insights crystalize into five practices people use to create admired, meaningful contributions: Reframe Your Role, Work with What You’ve Got, Ask the Right Question, See for Yourself, Talk to Your Outer Circle, Improve the Mix, and Deliver the Difference.

The Core Idea: The Art of Difference-Making

Sturt defines great work as “making a difference people love.” This deceptively simple phrase hides a profound truth: greatness is measured by impact, not position or intelligence. Whether you clean hospital rooms, lead a tech team, or run a school, you can create outcomes that engage hearts and minds. Great work happens when people move beyond following job descriptions and start thinking like difference makers—connecting their work to how it helps others thrive.

The book opens with a real-world transformation: Skip Hults, superintendent of Newcomb Central School in rural New York, managed to revive a dying school by introducing international students into a tiny community. His idea brought diversity, growth, and pride to a declining town. Hults didn’t invent something “new”; he reimagined his existing situation to create a difference others loved. This story captures Sturt’s central argument—the difference between good and great is not resources or genius, but perspective and intentionality.

Why Good Is the Foundation of Great

A common misconception, Sturt notes, is that “good” is the enemy of “great.” In reality, good work provides the raw material for greatness. Great work stands on the shoulders of what’s already good, refining and reimagining it for new impact. He illustrates this through Dr. Seuss’s creation of The Cat in the Hat, built under strict constraints (only 225 words a child could read). What might have felt limiting instead fueled invention. Like architect Frank Gehry’s view of creative limitations, constraints are not barriers—they’re ladders to innovation.

The Skills That Create Great Work

Across thousands of studies, Sturt isolates common behaviors among difference makers:

• Reframe Your Role: See yourself not as a task-doer but as someone who makes meaningful change. (Like hospital janitor Moses, who saw himself as part of the healing team, not just maintenance.)
• Work with What You’ve Got: Use the materials at hand—constraints breed creativity.
• Ask the Right Question: Pause and wonder, “What would people love?” instead of rushing into routine.
• See for Yourself: Engage firsthand; observation triggers passion and insight.
• Talk to Your Outer Circle: Collaborate beyond familiar voices—novel insights come from outsiders.
• Improve the Mix: Add, remove, and refine ideas until they fit together seamlessly.
• Deliver the Difference: Stay engaged until your work genuinely delights its recipients.

Why These Ideas Matter

Sturt’s findings challenge the myth that only visionary leaders create breakthroughs. Everyone—from janitors to engineers—has unique perspectives that reveal unseen possibilities. The act of looking, asking, and iterating ignites passion: according to Sturt’s data, people who look for improvements are 17 times more likely to feel passionate about their work. That passion, in turn, inspires enthusiasm across teams and raises results by 35 percent (as confirmed in Forbes’ follow-up studies).

Ultimately, Great Work is both research-based and deeply human. It’s a roadmap for anyone ready to move beyond routine and contribute something others genuinely appreciate. Throughout the coming sections, you’ll see examples—from Netflix’s ingenious envelope design to Dyson’s bagless vacuum, from IDEO’s stroller redesign to Malaysia’s zero-landfill factory—that reveal a single truth: anyone can make a difference people love if they choose to look, question, and persist.

What happens when you stop seeing your job as a list of tasks and start seeing it as an opportunity to help others? David Sturt calls this mental shift reframing your role. It’s the moment when ordinary workers become difference makers—those who transform routine work into meaningful contribution. The idea is grounded in research by University of Michigan’s Jane Dutton and Yale’s Amy Wrzesniewski, who found that even people in unglamorous jobs can feel purpose when they reinterpret what they do as service to others.

Turning Routine into Meaning

Take Ed, a struggling AM radio salesman. Initially, he saw himself merely as someone selling airtime. But after hearing a story about a creative salesperson who used radio ads to help a store owner move inventory, Ed reframed his identity—from “salesman” to “trusted marketing advisor.” He began asking clients how radio could make their customers happier instead of just closing deals. Within three years, Ed went from being a novice to the station’s top revenue earner. His secret wasn’t experience—it was purpose.

Job Crafting: Designing Meaning from the Inside Out

Researchers call this behavior job crafting: expanding your duties to add meaning and value. In hospitals studied by Dutton and Wrzesniewski, some janitors saw themselves not as cleaners but healers, joining emotionally with patients and families. One janitor rearranged pictures for comatose patients, believing a change of scenery could help recovery. As Dutton explains, meaningful work “is not about new job titles—it’s about new perspectives on contribution.”

Moses: The Healing Janitor

Perhaps the book’s most moving example is Moses, a Philadelphia hospital janitor who transformed patient care through empathy. When young McKay, a child recovering from heart surgery, whimpered at every knock on his door, Moses reframed his role: he entered quietly, greeted the boy gently, and said, “I’m here to make things better.” He treated McKay as a person, not a patient. His compassion gave the family peace of mind that even skilled doctors couldn’t. Moses wasn’t trained in medicine—but his presence healed in a different way.

A Practical Challenge

Reframing your role is an invitation to see your work through others’ eyes. Instead of focusing on what’s expected, ask, “Who benefits from what I do? And how can I serve them better?” This simple reorientation transforms obligation into opportunity. Sturt’s lesson echoes Dutton’s broader insight: people are hardwired for connection and service. When you discover the human purpose behind your job, motivation becomes natural. (Compare with Daniel Pink’s “Drive,” where autonomy and purpose fuel mastery.)

When you work with your head up, not down, you notice how your actions ripple through people’s lives. As Mindi, McKay’s mother, concluded, “It’s the difference between working with your head down and with your head up.” That’s the essence of reframing—lifting your vision so your everyday effort becomes extraordinary impact.

If you’ve ever blamed lack of time, money, or freedom for limiting creativity, Sturt has news for you: constraints are the fuel for innovation. Good work, he says, is the foundation of great work. You don’t need a blank slate. You need the willingness to improve what already exists. From children’s literature to architecture, history proves that breakthroughs come from combining familiarity with freshness.

Constraints as Catalysts

Consider Ted Geisel—better known as Dr. Seuss. Challenged to write a children’s book using only 225 approved vocabulary words, he wrestled with limitations until he found two rhyming words: “cat” and “hat.” The constraint didn’t stifle him—it liberated him. Geisel’s playful creativity transformed early reading and literature forever. Similar constraint-driven innovation guided architect Frank Gehry’s design of the Disney Concert Hall, where acoustic standards for sound inspired its signature swirling exterior. Constraints, Gehry says, “turn problems into action.”

From Good to Great in Practice

Sturt points out that everyday great workers improve, not invent. They take what’s good—tested, reliable—and elevate it. Good work is the “universe” Carl Sagan described: the raw ingredients from which creativity blossoms. Whether you’re updating a product or streamlining a process, your existing framework is your scaffold. This perspective eliminates paralysis; it reminds you that greatness starts here, not somewhere else.

Possibility Multiplied

From Seuss’s 225 words came infinite joy. Sturt uses playful examples—six LEGO bricks can make 900 million combinations—to remind you that innovation depends on recombination, not invention from thin air. Every color, sound, and material in the world stems from a small set of principles. That means your limitations hold unlimited potential patterns waiting to be mixed and matched.

“The guy who invented the first wheel was an idiot. The guy who invented the other three, he was a genius.” – Sid Caesar

The takeaway? Instead of lamenting your lack of options, reexamine what’s already in your toolkit: skills, relationships, and experience. Like Moses in the hospital or Skip in Newcomb School, you already possess the raw materials to create a difference. The constraints aren’t walls—they’re doors.

By practicing gratitude for what you have and curiosity about what it could become, you reclaim creativity from circumstance. The next time you face a challenge, ask not “What’s missing?” but “What’s possible with what’s here?” That shift—from scarcity to sufficiency—is how good becomes great.

Every breakthrough starts with a question. In Sturt’s model, great work begins when you pause to ask what people would love. This deceptively simple practice—asking rather than assuming—is the pivot between routine and revelation. Drawing inspiration from Einstein, who said he’d spend 55 of 60 minutes defining the right question before solving a problem, Sturt shows that curiosity fuels greatness.

The Intelligence in the Pause

Many of us hurry to finish tasks; difference makers pause to think. Jonah Staw, cofounder of LittleMissMatched, turned a joke about mismatched socks into a brand by pondering one playful question: what if imperfection were fashionable? That pause—the mental space before action—allowed him to imagine products that celebrated individuality. Pausing activates insight; rushing kills it.

Three Starting Points for Asking Better Questions

• Tackle a Problem: View obstacles as invitations. Mike from Shizuki Electronics faced mass employee turnover in Mexico. By asking “What would these workers truly love?” he realized young women left for family duties—not dissatisfaction. His team’s answer: create free Friday dinner dances. This small joy quadrupled retention.
• Consider What You’re Good At: Annette, an engineer, used her background in safety and frugality to propose that her company dismantle a toxic plating room in-house. The project saved millions and set new health standards.
• Think Out on the Edge: Inventor Martin Cooper asked, “Why do I have to call a place instead of a person?” His question led to the first mobile phone, revolutionizing communication globally.

From Questions to Action

Einstein’s wisdom meets everyday practicality here: don’t just complete assignments—wonder whether something could be done better, faster, or more delightfully. Like child Jennifer Land asking her father Edwin why she couldn’t see a photo immediately, naive questions can spark world-changing ideas. Edwin Land’s answer birthed instant photography and eventually digital imaging culture.

Sturt reminds us: asking questions is the act that creates possibility. Every “why not” opens a creative vacuum your mind rushes to fill. That’s nature’s brilliance—and our opportunity. (Compare with Clayton Christensen’s “innovator’s dilemma,” where questioning assumptions reveals disruption.)

Try pausing when next faced with a problem. Ask, “What would delight people here?” or “What’s missing that could make this better?” Your brain—and your team—will begin sketching paths to improvement that routine never reveals.

If asking the right question opens possibility, seeing for yourself brings it into focus. Sturt argues that people who personally observe their work environment—not just analyze data—discover possibilities invisible to others. Seeing isn’t passive; it’s participatory. The act of looking firsthand, he says, awakens passion and multiplies insight seventeenfold.

The Power of Observation

IDEO designers exemplify this principle. When hired to redesign Evenflo’s baby stroller, they didn’t start with spreadsheets; they visited malls, parks, and homes, filming caregivers’ struggles. Each observation became an improvement: bigger wheels for cracked sidewalks, one-hand folding for busy parents, elevated seats for comfort, and built-in play areas. “We can’t see what we aren’t looking at,” Sturt reminds us.

Seeing Through Unique Eyes

Every person sees differently. Golf legend Jack Nicklaus looks at land and imagines fairways where others see dirt. His perspective—shaped by decades of experience—let him design award-winning courses. Likewise, Eiji Nakatsu, Japanese engineer and bird-watcher, solved bullet train tunnel booms by studying kingfisher beaks. Nature became his blueprint, reducing noise and energy use while increasing speed.

The Case for Field Work

Being there matters. When Netflix cofounder Jim Cook tested DVD shipping, he went to postal centers himself. Observing sorting equipment revealed why discs were failing. His solution—the flat red envelope—transformed both postal efficiency and movie delivery forever. Whether you call it “management by walking around” or “artist’s field work,” physical presence turns empathy into insight.

Looking at Details and Outcomes

Denise Coogan’s zero-landfill project at Subaru of Indiana embodies sustained observation. Her team sorted trash item by item, asking what could be reused, recycled, or eliminated. The result: waste per car dropped from 49 pounds to 0.07. Seeing firsthand transformed impossibility into innovation—and even profit.

Seeing for yourself is contagious. Sturt’s data show employees who look for improvements are 17 times more passionate and inspire 11 times more team enthusiasm. Seeing connects emotion with opportunity. When you take time to look, you don’t just notice problems—you start to care enough to solve them.

When we speak only to people who think like us, our ideas stagnate. Sturt’s next principle—talk to your outer circle—challenges you to engage those outside your usual network. Fresh perspectives create what neuroscientist Daniel Siegel calls “the neurobiology of we”: new pathways connecting previously separate ideas.

Why New Conversations Matter

In Kenya, a conversation between a doctor’s wife named Julia and an orphanage owner linked littered plastic bags to malaria outbreaks—an insight that transformed environmental policy. This exemplifies Arthur Koestler’s concept of “bisociation”: blending unrelated ideas into new meaning. Unexpected discussions ignite innovation.

Inner vs. Outer Circles

We spend 80% of our words talking to a handful of familiar contacts—our inner circle. Yet true creativity emerges when we reach farther. Outer-circle conversations provide objectivity and expertise beyond our echo chambers. (Harvard’s Karim Lakhani found that people solve problems more effectively in fields outside their specialization—a powerful argument for interdisciplinary talk.)

Conversation in Action

Insurance manager Rob Burns illustrates this skill beautifully. Inspired by the explorers Lewis and Clark, he invited his team to leave familiar territory and talk with colleagues across divisions. From one such chat emerged a small yet transformative idea: changing the standard call greeting from “Can I help you?” to “I can help you.” That single phrase shifted customer perception—and improved claim satisfaction dramatically.

Musician and conductor Benjamin Zander mastered outer-circle engagement through “white sheets”—blank notes inviting musicians’ feedback. Instead of commanding, he collaborated, turning his orchestra into co-creators of beauty. His motto: “The conductor depends on his ability to make others feel powerful.”

Crowdsourcing and Collective Genius

In the digital age, talking outward extends to global collaboration. When Colgate couldn’t solve a packaging problem with its top chemists, it invited outsiders via InnoCentive’s online platform. An engineer in Canada—outside their field entirely—found the answer, earning $25,000 and proving that distance breeds insight.

Similarly, Matt Flannery and Jessica Jackley’s thousand conversations in Kenya birthed Kiva.org, connecting Western lenders with entrepreneurs in developing countries through small online loans. Their idea redefined charity into partnership, turning generosity into sustainable microfinance. Each conversation built clarity and community.

Talk beyond your usual team. Ask outsiders how they’d solve your problem or what they’d improve. As Sturt found, work that includes these diverse voices is 337% more likely to deliver better financial results. Sometimes the difference between “good enough” and “breakthrough” is one conversation away.

Ideas are ingredients. Great workers learn to improve the mix—adding, removing, and blending concepts until everything fits. Sturt’s research shows 84% of great work involves deliberate tinkering, visualization, and iteration. It’s the stage where creativity meets discipline.

Adding, Removing, and Checking for Fit

Storyboarding, first pioneered by Walt Disney Studios, was an early form of improving the mix. Before filming, animators pinned sketches to walls, rearranging them for flow and impact. This visual iteration helped creators imagine the experience before execution. Today, designers use whiteboards, 3×5 cards, and prototypes to do the same.

Take the Boy Scout breakfast fundraiser: the team added a car show to its annual pancake event after imagining what attendees would love. The new mix quadrupled profits. Great mixes balance fit and delight—never adding for its own sake.

Removing as Refinement

James Dyson’s bagless vacuum began with removal. Frustrated with suction loss in traditional vacuums, he eliminated the bag entirely and replaced it with a cyclone design. The absence became innovation. As Leonardo da Vinci said, “Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.”

When Ideas Fit in Harmony

In southern Spain, biologist Miguel Medialdea reimagined fish farming to work with nature instead of against it. By adding natural food chains and removing artificial feeding, his farm became self-sustaining—a living ecosystem that purifies water and attracts wildlife. Chefs loved his fish for its purity and taste. Miguel’s success illustrates what Sturt calls “rapport between ideas”—changes that elevate each other.

Signs of a Great Mix

• Chain reactions: One idea sparks others, as Nike’s collaboration with Apple did with Nike+, turning a shoe sensor and MP3 player into a global running community.
• Doability: The mix feels achievable and energizing—like Skip Hults’s international student idea that instantly united his town.
• Passion: You’re lit up by the vision, as Adam Boesel was when he created Portland’s Green Microgym, converting workout energy into electricity.

“Most improvements are not grandiose or showstopping. They are small, incremental changes that add up to a bigger solution.” – Mike, process engineer

Improving the mix means experimenting until harmony appears. When ideas start amplifying each other, when your gut says “this fits,” you’ve found your great mix. That’s difference-making creativity in motion.

Great work doesn’t end when the task is done—it ends when the difference is felt. Sturt’s final skill, deliver the difference, means sticking with your work until people genuinely love it. It’s about post-completion ownership and sensitivity to impact. In 9 out of 10 great work cases studied, employees stayed engaged beyond delivery.

From Completion to Connection

Baseball umpire Bill Klem famously said, “Sonny, it ain’t nothing till I call it.” Sturt uses this as a metaphor: work acquires meaning only when its recipient recognizes the difference. Photographers, engineers, and teams must seek feedback—not for validation, but understanding.

Tina’s Photo Finish

School photographer Tina refused to do her job mechanically. When photographing students with autism, she stayed longer, searching for a genuine moment of connection. The image she captured moved one mother to tears—it was the first photo that showed her son “as she saw him.” Tina’s insistence on making a human difference made routine work unforgettable.

Learning from Missteps

Delivering well also means adapting when your first attempt fails. Kevin Systrom’s location-sharing app Burbn flopped—until users revealed what they loved: photo sharing. Kevin and cofounder Mike Krieger reimagined the product as Instagram, focusing only on beauty and simplicity. Their growth mindset turned failure into billion-dollar success.

Iteration in Action

In O.C. Tanner’s jewelry factory, engineer Mike’s team improved welding success from 64% to 99% by continually refining small details—discovering that a dab of soapy water improved adhesion, then automating the pressure process. Each improvement taught them what worked next. Delivering isn’t static—it’s learning while applying.

Ripple Effects: Inspiring Others

When Sherm Poppen strapped two skis together for his daughters one snowy afternoon, he created joy—not realizing he had also invented snowboarding. His playful “Snurfer” became a global phenomenon, showing how one act of delight can ripple through industries. Difference makers inspire more difference makers.

To deliver the difference, stay engaged until recipients feel your impact, treat failures as feedback, and celebrate small wins. Sturt concludes with Todd Skinner’s mountaineering metaphor: you’ll never know how to climb the mountain until you get on the wall. Great work, like climbing, teaches as you ascend.