When the Operating Model Is the Product
In many organizations, “the product” is treated as the thing customers touch.
The interface.
The app.
The experience.
When growth slows or performance falters, attention turns there first. Features are added. Surfaces are refreshed. Teams are reorganized around delivery. The assumption is that the product needs to change.
Often, it’s not the product.
It’s the operating model underneath it.
Every product is carried by an operating model — the way decisions are made, work is coordinated, data moves, and tradeoffs are resolved. Over time, that model becomes the real constraint. It determines how quickly ideas turn into reality, how consistently experiences are delivered, and how costly change becomes.
When the operating model no longer fits the ambition of the product, friction shows up everywhere.
Teams compensate. Processes multiply. Integrations deepen. What looks like product complexity is often operational weight expressing itself at the surface.
This is why product improvements can feel strangely unsatisfying. Work ships, but momentum doesn’t build. Each release solves a local problem while increasing global coordination costs. The product appears to be moving forward, but the system carrying it is struggling to keep up.
At that point, the operating model is the product.
It shapes what is possible far more than any individual feature. It determines whether learning compounds or stalls. Whether speed creates leverage or drag. Whether growth makes the business stronger — or simply heavier.
This dynamic is easy to miss from inside the organization. Leaders see roadmaps, staffing plans, and delivery timelines. What’s harder to see is how much of the effort is being spent navigating the system itself — working around constraints rather than advancing the product.
From the outside, the pattern is clearer.
When multiple teams are blocked by the same dependencies.
When simple changes require disproportionate coordination.
When progress creates more overhead instead of less.
These are not product failures. They are operating model failures showing up in product form.
Treating them as surface-level issues leads to familiar cycles: reorganize, reprioritize, rebuild. Each cycle adds weight. Each cycle makes the next change harder.
The alternative is not to abandon product thinking — but to widen it.
To recognize that what users experience is inseparable from how the organization operates. That the most important design decisions are often invisible. And that lasting improvement comes not from polishing the interface, but from reshaping the system that produces it.
When that system is designed well, products feel lighter over time.
When it isn’t, no amount of feature work can compensate.