Megan Fraser
September 2026
There have been quite a few changes at Gryphon this year. Some of the fund pricing has changed, some fund mandates have shifted, and some fund structures have evolved. That has meant a lot of thinking and communicating – to our team, to stakeholders and to investors.
For those involved directly in the process, none of it feels particularly sudden. It’s all been talked through, questioned and debated for months. By the time a decision is made, we’re already very familiar with both the outcome and how we got there. For everyone else, though, it can land quite differently — a bit like arriving in season four of Breaking Bad with no recap, while everyone else seems to know exactly what’s going on.
What I’ve found fascinating — and quite educational — is just how differently people respond to the same information. The first reaction is very rarely only about the change itself, and the conversation almost never unfolds quite as expected. I’ve come to realise that much of the response is shaped by whatever else is being carried that day – what’s happening beyond the conversation, how much coffee we’ve had, or simply how much uncertainty we have room for in that moment. Which is why the very same information can be met with wariness, irritation, anxiety, curiosity, or sometimes just one concerned and very direct question: “Is it bad?”
There is something quite grounding about that. We can spend hours refining an explanation and trying to anticipate every technical question, only for someone to cut straight through it to what they really want to know: Am I going to be okay? Has something gone wrong? Is this something I need to worry about?
On a recent trip to Jozi, I was standing in the queue going through security at the airport and got into some minor chit-chat with a woman behind me – just the sort of eye-rolling and wry smiles that happen when travellers find themselves in the same slow-moving line.
Then, out of the blue, she says to me, “This is the first time I’m going home, and my mother won’t be there.”
I had no words.
We often start searching for the right thing to say, as though there must be some combination of words that can make another person’s sadness easier to carry, make a situation better. But there really wasn’t anything useful I could say. Her mother had died. She was going home, and home was going to be different.
I couldn’t even try to fix that. I offered what I could, but I simply just let what she had said be there.
I’ve thought about that interaction quite a lot since, because there is something in it that extends well beyond a blurted-out grief.
We are uncomfortable with unresolved things. If someone is unhappy, we want to reassure them. If they disagree, we want to explain ourselves better. If there is silence, we start looking for something to put into it.
Sometimes that helps. Sometimes it doesn’t.
I’ve noticed the same thing in some of the conversations around our recent changes. A first response may be resistance, disappointment or simply uncertainty. The temptation is to keep explaining until the person gets to the place, we would like them to be. But often, once the information has been given clearly and the questions answered, the better thing is to leave a little room around it.
People need time to think, reconsider, talk to someone else, sleep on it, or simply get used to the idea. Very little stays at the same emotional temperature if it is left alone for a while.
There is a steel tongue drum I use to fascinate the kids at the school where I spend most Friday mornings, and it gives me a simple image for all of this. When you strike one of the tongues, the note rings out. If you put your finger on it too quickly, you stop the vibration. There is still a noise, technically, but there is no music.
I wonder if we do that to people more often than we realise.
We hear the first reaction and immediately rush to correct, reassure, defend or tidy it up. In doing so, we may sometimes interrupt a process that would have found its own way through.
Allowing space does not mean being disengaged or uninvested. It means that once you’ve explained properly and listened carefully, perhaps recognise that another person’s response does not need to be managed.
Sometimes, it’s enough to leave things to resonate.
