The Speed Trap: Why Global Teams Misread Each Other’s Urgency

In the glass-walled conference rooms of Singapore’s Marina Bay offices, mornings begin with subtlety. A Korean executive, freshly landed from Seoul, scrolls briskly through his emails while waiting for his European counterparts to arrive. The conversation kicks off quickly, with questions sharp and decisions made at speed. Across the table, a French colleague appears unsettled, suggesting that further reflection might yield better results. An American partner, dialling in from New York, pushes to close the discussion by lunchtime. Everyone agrees on the importance of efficiency, yet no one agrees on what it looks like.

This small vignette, repeated in countless variations across boardrooms, Zoom calls and project channels, speaks to a persistent paradox in global work. Teams from Tokyo to Toronto are aligned on goals and metrics, yet they often fall into quiet frustration over timing. Deadlines appear elastic to some, iron-clad to others. A “quick reply” might mean within the hour in Berlin, by the end of the day in São Paulo, or sometime this week in Jakarta.

The result is what could be called the speed trap: the tendency for international teams to misread each other’s sense of urgency.

Time as culture

When Edward T. Hall, the American anthropologist, published The Silent Language in 1959, he argued that culture is not simply visible in rituals, clothing or cuisine, but is embedded in the very rhythms of daily life. Hall introduced the idea of monochronic and polychronic cultures: societies where time is treated as linear and segmented, versus those where time is fluid, relational and open-ended.

More than half a century later, these distinctions continue to echo in the world of business. Northern European cultures, steeped in Protestant notions of punctuality and order, still privilege deadlines as a measure of professionalism. By contrast, parts of Latin America, the Middle East and Southeast Asia view flexibility not as a weakness, but as a sign of adaptability and human-centred decision-making.

Neither approach is inherently better. Yet when they collide inside multinational teams, the friction can be costly. A London-based marketing agency recently recounted how a campaign launch stalled because their partners in Manila did not share the same urgency to finalise deliverables. The Manila team, meanwhile, believed they were exercising due care by accommodating last-minute client changes. What was interpreted in London as delay was understood in Manila as diligence.

The illusion of speed in digital work

The expansion of digital platforms has, paradoxically, heightened these misunderstandings. The always-on tools of modern work (Slack, Teams, WhatsApp, Zoom) create a surface illusion that everyone is moving at the same velocity. A message sent at midnight in Seoul lands instantly on the screens of colleagues in San Francisco. The notification pings are the same everywhere, the timestamps exact. Yet beneath the veneer of simultaneity, each participant carries their own unspoken clock.

In cultures where response time is tied to status, such as Japan or South Korea, junior staff may feel compelled to answer late-night queries immediately, signalling diligence. In Scandinavian countries, by contrast, a slow reply after working hours may be a quiet assertion of boundaries and a sign of professional maturity. Without awareness of these dynamics, international colleagues are left to interpret silence as either negligence or defiance.

The irony is that digital acceleration does not always produce true speed. A study by INSEAD on cross-border collaboration found that global teams often lose more time clarifying expectations about deadlines than actually executing tasks. Misalignment over what “urgent” means can double the time spent on projects, a phenomenon masked by the constant hum of messaging.

Urgency as identity

Why do these differences cut so deeply? Partly because urgency is not simply a work habit, but a marker of identity.

In South Korea, where the phrase ppalli-ppalli — literally “hurry, hurry” — has shaped decades of national development, moving quickly is tied to pride in modernisation. Speed signifies seriousness and capability. A delayed response may be read as incompetence, or worse, indifference.

In Italy, by contrast, the art of deliberation is prized. Decisions take time not because people are slow, but because nuance and context are respected. In France, prolonged discussion can be seen as intellectual rigour, a way to test ideas before commitment. What appears to outsiders as hesitation is, internally, a sign of care.

These cultural codes are invisible until they clash. A German project manager expecting instant confirmation may feel stonewalled by Brazilian colleagues who wish to maintain harmony before committing. An American investor pushing for quarterly results may misinterpret a Japanese partner’s reluctance to rush as lack of ambition, rather than caution rooted in collective responsibility.

The cost of misreading speed

The financial implications of the speed trap are not trivial. A 2023 survey by the Economist Intelligence Unit estimated that poor cross-cultural communication costs multinational companies more than $40 billion annually in lost productivity. While language barriers and strategy misalignments were cited, timing was among the most consistent points of friction.

Consider supply chains. When a logistics partner in Vietnam interprets “as soon as possible” as within a week, while a client in Los Angeles means within 48 hours, containers sit idle. In pharmaceutical research, a delay of even a few days in aligning cross-border teams can alter trial schedules worth millions.

But the more insidious cost is relational. Once urgency is misread, trust erodes. The team in one country begins to assume that the other side is lazy, obstinate or careless. Resentments fester in the silence between messages. Efficiency, ironically, is lost not because of actual delay, but because of the emotional weight of misinterpretation.

Learning to read the clock

How, then, can teams avoid the speed trap?

The first step is recognising that urgency is a cultural construct, not a universal truth. Leaders who assume that their sense of speed is the default are likely to perpetuate misunderstandings. A global team must instead cultivate what management scholars call “temporal intelligence,” the ability to read and adapt to the timing cues of others.

Practical steps help. When setting deadlines, specify not only dates but also time zones, and clarify whether they are hard stops or flexible guidelines. Avoid ambiguous phrases such as “ASAP” or “by end of day” unless followed by precise clarification. In meetings, ask openly: “What does urgent mean in this context?” The very act of naming the divergence helps diffuse tension.

Second, teams benefit from distinguishing between genuine urgency and performative urgency. In some organisations, urgency becomes a default mode, a way of signalling importance rather than a reflection of need. By clarifying which tasks are mission-critical and which can wait, leaders reduce the likelihood that cultural differences in timing spiral into frustration.

Finally, cultivating curiosity matters. Rather than judging a colleague’s pace as wrong, ask what values or constraints shape it. Is their delay a reflection of hierarchy, of careful review, of respect for relationships? Often, what appears to be inefficiency is simply a different form of efficiency, one measured not by speed but by durability of results.

When slow is fast

There is also wisdom in learning when slowness itself is a form of speed.

In the luxury goods industry, for example, European maisons have long understood that crafting a handbag or a watch cannot be rushed without diminishing its value. The very scarcity of time invested becomes a marker of quality. When Asian distributors accustomed to faster product cycles encounter this cadence, the initial frustration gives way to appreciation that waiting is part of the allure.

Similarly, in diplomacy, the deliberate pace of negotiation is not a flaw but a necessity. The Iranian nuclear talks, the Brexit negotiations, the ongoing climate summits, all unfold over years, not weeks. The slowness is the process. Teams that enter these arenas expecting Silicon Valley sprint cycles are often disoriented.

In global business, adopting a slower pace at key junctures can prevent costly mistakes. A multinational entering the Indian market may be tempted to accelerate rollouts, yet those who invest time in patient relationship-building with local partners often find that the long-term rewards far exceed the initial delay.

A different measure of urgency

Perhaps the deeper lesson of the speed trap is that urgency should be measured not in hours or days, but in alignment. A project is truly urgent only when all stakeholders agree on its importance and timing. Anything else is performance.

This requires a shift in mindset. Instead of asking, “How fast can we move?”, global teams might ask, “How aligned are we on when to move?” This subtle reframing turns urgency from a source of division into a tool for collaboration.

It also allows for nuance. In some cases, rapid movement is essential; a cybersecurity breach, a market opportunity, a health crisis. In others, restraint is the wiser path. By calibrating urgency to context, rather than to cultural default, organisations find a rhythm that is sustainable across borders.

The quiet craft of timing

Walking through the offices of a Japanese multinational in Marunouchi, one notices a small plaque on the wall inscribed with a proverb: Isogaba maware: “when in a hurry, take the long way round.” It is a reminder that speed is not always linear, and that haste without reflection often leads to delay.

In contrast, a Californian start-up incubator has its own mantra plastered across meeting rooms: “Move fast and fix things.” Here, urgency is seen as a catalyst for learning, with missteps treated as part of progress.

Neither approach is wrong. Both are rational within their own contexts. The challenge lies in recognising that they are not universal. For global teams, the real craft lies in weaving these tempos together, finding harmony between acceleration and pause.

Toward a shared tempo

As the world becomes increasingly borderless, the ability to navigate timing will become as critical as mastering language. Already, companies are investing in cultural fluency training that includes modules on temporal awareness. Universities are teaching future leaders that speed is not absolute but relational. Even cities are branding themselves not only by geography but by pace: Dubai as the hub of urgency, Copenhagen as the capital of calm.

The future of work will not be about choosing one tempo over another, but about orchestrating them. A symphony needs both allegro and adagio, just as a project needs both rapid sprints and reflective pauses. Those who master this orchestration will not only avoid the speed trap but turn timing into a competitive advantage.

A closing reflection

As dusk falls over the Singapore office, the multinational team concludes its meeting. The Korean executive feels reassured that progress is swift. The French colleague believes the debate has only begun. The American is relieved that action points have been assigned. Each leaves with a different sense of time, yet all are moving toward a shared goal.

The speed trap has not disappeared, but it has been named. And perhaps that is the quiet victory: understanding that urgency is not a universal constant, but a language in itself. To work well across borders is to learn to speak that language with grace, adjusting one’s rhythm without losing one’s identity.

For in the end, the art of global collaboration may not lie in moving fastest, but in moving together.