Welcome to Changemaker Stories from LOCAL – an ongoing series of personal interviews with leaders driving change across every industry and discipline. Because change shouldn’t mean going it alone.
Ryan Klee knows that change isn’t something you command—it’s something you earn. As a senior leader who’s navigated high-growth tech, major transformations, and people-first turnarounds, Ryan brings a rare blend of operational focus and human insight to every challenge. He believes the best transformations don’t come from playbooks. They come from honest conversations, courageous leadership, and a whole lot of listening.
Change starts with telling the truth—even when it’s uncomfortable. One of the first things I do in any transformation is ask: what’s really going on here? Not what the slide says. Not what the exec team hopes. The actual experience on the ground.
"If you don't honor people's lived reality, you're not building change—you're building theater."
Most resistance isn’t about the change itself—it’s about how it’s being handled. When people feel blindsided, ignored, or manipulated, they dig in their heels. But when they’re part of the process—when their perspective is heard and reflected—they’re much more likely to engage. My job is to turn resistance into insight, and insight into action.
You have to be intentional about designing how change feels. Most leaders focus on structure, process, and outcomes. But people remember how it felt. Were they involved? Were they respected? Did they feel safe to raise their hand? A great strategy that feels bad in the rollout won’t land. My work lives in that in-between space—where logistics meet lived experience.
I’ve learned to treat culture like an operating system. It’s not fluff. It’s not a vibe. It’s the invisible code that tells people how to behave, decide, and show up. If that code is outdated or broken, no amount of strategy will stick. That’s why I spend time listening for what the culture is really saying—and what needs to be rewritten.
Sometimes change fatigue is really just grief. People aren’t just tired of new tools or org charts—they’re mourning what they’ve lost: stability, identity, trust. Naming that can be powerful. It’s not about being soft. It’s about being real. Because when people feel seen, they re-engage.
You can’t drive change from a place of fear. I’ve seen leaders try to control their way through transformation—tighten the screws, double down on compliance, issue edicts. It never works. Sustainable change comes from trust. And trust comes from consistency, transparency, and vulnerability at the top.
There’s a big difference between alignment and agreement. You don’t have to get everyone to agree. But you do have to get clear on what matters most, and make sure everyone is rowing in the same direction. That clarity is often what’s missing. My role is to bring it into focus.
I’m always looking for the signal under the noise. Every complaint, every delay, every side conversation is telling you something. Not just about the task—but about the system. Is it fear? Is it confusion? Is it burnout? If you can surface that signal, you can actually solve the right problem.
Transformation is a test of leadership. Not just the big, visible kind—but the daily, relational kind. The willingness to say “I don’t know,” to make a tough call, to show up when things are messy. Those are the leaders people follow. And those are the moments that shape culture more than any town hall ever could.
This work takes both courage and humility. You have to be brave enough to name the truth, and humble enough to keep learning. That balance—between conviction and curiosity—is what makes the difference between a shift that sticks and one that slides backwards.
What keeps me in this work is the chance to help people reconnect—to purpose, to each other, and to their own capacity for change. That’s where transformation really begins.
