Consulting gives you plenty of moments where a theory meets reality — and reality wins.
But one project, more than any other, reshaped the way I think about digital transformation forever.

I was working with a homeless charity on a digital learning initiative.
The brief was inspiring: create a platform that would help people gain skills, improve employability, and rebuild their confidence through accessible online learning.

It sounded like exactly the kind of project where technology could genuinely change lives.

And on paper, the solution was perfect.

Sleek.
Intuitive.
Accessible.
Feature-rich.
Beautifully designed.
Built with compassion and purpose.

The problem wasn’t the system.

The problem was that the users didn’t live on paper.

The Solution That Looked Right — But Wasn’t

We had built something that would be considered “best in class” in most organisations:

• multi-device support

• clear navigation

• bite-sized learning content

• progress tracking

• accessible design standards

• simple, friendly interfaces

• support features embedded throughout

Everyone in the project team was proud of it.
Stakeholders were excited.
The launch went smoothly.

Except… something unexpected happened.

The learners didn’t use it.

Not because they didn’t want to learn.
Not because they weren’t capable.
Not because the technology was faulty.

They didn’t use it because the reality of their lives didn’t match the assumptions of the design.

The Misalignment We Didn’t See

Working alongside the charity, I began to realise what we had missed.

Many of the people the charity supported:

• didn’t have consistent access to devices

• had irregular access to Wi-Fi

• struggled with long-form digital content

• lived in environments where privacy and concentration were limited

• were dealing with trauma, stress, instability, and immediate survival priorities

• didn’t find motivation in abstract digital progress bars

• valued human connection more than a digital interface

• needed experiential and guided learning, not isolated self-serve modules

The platform was technically perfect —
but practically misaligned with human reality.

We had built a Ferrari for people who needed a reliable, accessible bus.

Not because they couldn’t appreciate the Ferrari —
but because it wouldn’t take them where they actually needed to go.

The Moment It All Became Clear

I remember talking to one of the charity workers who said:

“They don’t need a platform that teaches them.
They need people who walk with them.”

That sentence cut through me.

Because it exposed the central truth of digital transformation:

Technology is never the transformation.
People are.

We had tried to solve a human challenge with a digital answer.
We hadn’t misunderstood the goal —
we had misunderstood the context.

The Lessons That Changed My Approach Forever

1. The user’s reality matters more than your design

The environment, stability, mindset, trauma history, and daily pressures of the learner mattered far more than UX or features.

2. Beautiful solutions fail if the use case isn’t real

We solved the wrong problem.
We fixed capability, not context.

3. Technology can support learning — but it can’t replace belonging

People don’t just need content.
They need connection.

4. Inclusion requires empathy, not interfaces

True accessibility starts with understanding people’s lived experiences, not just meeting design standards.

5. If the system doesn’t fit the user, the system is wrong

Even if it’s perfect from a technical or design standpoint.

6. Digital transformation succeeds when behaviour changes

Not when websites launch.
Not when apps are installed.
Not when training is completed.

When behaviour changes — naturally, sustainably, and meaningfully.

And behaviour only changes when the solution makes sense in their world, not yours.

What Happened Next

Instead of pushing the platform harder, we reframed the entire approach.

We worked with the charity to:

• introduce blended pathways

• pair digital content with human facilitation

• simplify and shorten modules

• create learning moments designed for unstable environments

• focus on confidence as much as competence

• build community, not just curriculum

• make digital the support mechanism — not the centrepiece

Only then did adoption rise.
Only then did the learning become meaningful.
Only then did transformation start to take root.

Because we finally aligned the solution with the lived experience of the people it was meant to serve.

Looking Back

That charity project stays with me more than almost any other.

It reminded me that technology cannot fix what isn’t fundamentally a technology problem.

It taught me that digital transformation is:

• cultural,

• behavioural,

• emotional,

• contextual,

• and deeply human.

The platform wasn’t the solution.
The platform was a tool.

The solution was empathy.

And that lesson has shaped every transformation, technology programme, and product design decision I’ve made since.

Digital doesn’t transform organisations.
People do.

And understanding the difference is the most important lesson of all.