Plan the Exit Like You Plan the Entrance

What a theater crew taught me about finishing what you start.

I recently attended a play performed by a local theater company. The scripts, the acting, the sets—all up to expectations. But what happened between the scenes left the deepest impression.

As the lights faded after each scene, I expected a pause before the next act. Instead, the stage came alive in the near-darkness. The entire cast, from leads to supporting players, moved with purpose. They weren't performing for the audience anymore—they were striking the set together. Tables, chairs, props, entire pieces of scenery, rearranged or removed in seconds. The space was transformed and ready before the story picked back up.

This wasn't a one-time thing. It happened after every scene. The actors weren't just focused on their lines and cues—they were a team dedicated to the whole production, especially the parts the audience was never meant to see.

It got me thinking about how we prepare for the big moments in our own organizations. A major presentation, a product launch, a company event—we spend hours rehearsing the opening, perfecting the performance, polishing the message. We focus on what the audience will see.

But what about the moments in between? The offstage work?

We put our energy into the big show and leave the close to chance. That looks like:

Who handles the cleanup? Packing up equipment, following up with attendees—this work falls to the same reliable few, who end up over-committed and burned out.

What's the post-event plan? Capturing feedback, following up with key contacts, archiving materials—usually an afterthought, and opportunities are missed with it.

What does a successful close actually look like? We define success by the launch. A great event also needs a great ending.

Patrick Lencioni writes in The Advantage that cohesive teams prioritize the collective result over individual prestige: "Teamwork is not a virtue. It is a choice—and a strategic one." When the lead performers step off the stage to help carry the props, it tells the whole team something: no one is too important for the less glamorous work.

Here's how to apply what the cast showed me:

Rehearse the entire event, not just the opening. Build time to plan and practice the end, not just the start.

Define ownership for every task. Don't assume someone will handle the cleanup—assign it.

Build a whole-crew mindset. Everyone owns the entire project, not just their part of the performance.

Decide in advance what a successful close looks like. How you'll capture feedback, send follow-ups, measure the result.

The audience will never see the coordinated work done in the dark. But they'll feel it in the smooth transition, in the professionalism that lingers after the curtain falls.

What would change in your next event, meeting, or launch if you planned the exit as carefully as you planned the entrance?