The problem we forgot to see

In a small village was a big hole in the street. This hole caused many accidents, and people got hurt. The village leaders wanted to help, so they met to find a solution.

At first, they thought buying an ambulance would help, and it did, for a little while. The ambulance could take the injured quickly to the hospital. But soon, another accident would happen, and the ambulance would be busy. The new victims would have to wait for it to return.

The village leaders thought: “We need another ambulance!” So, they bought another one. But the problem did not go away. People were still getting hurt, and delays still occurred.

Then, the leaders asked for help from a consultant. He studied the issue and said: “The solution is clear: fill the hole and dig another one just next to the hospital.”

For too long the villagers had accepted the hole as part of the scenery. They no longer saw it as a problem to be solved, but a reality to be worked around. It had become familiar, and that familiarity made it invisible.

This is one of the most overlooked truths in problem solving: the longer a problem stays, the harder it becomes to see. Familiarity breeds acceptance. We stop questioning what we have adapted to. We adjust our behavior, our systems, and even our expectations, until the original issue fades into the background.

In the village, the hole was not just a physical hazard; it became a mental blind spot. The community focused on response, efficiency, and optimization, but no one asked whether the hole had to be there in the first place. Over time, managing the problem became more normalized than solving it.

Always remember that the scariest problems are not always the ones we fear; they are the ones we have stopped noticing. Sometimes, all it takes to solve them is to notice them again

This is how the illusion of progress creeps in. The village looked busier than ever. Ambulances moved constantly. Reports were written. Metrics were tracked. Leaders held regular meetings. Everyone was active but not effective. The system was doing more yet achieving less.

Another hidden trap was reactive thinking. Ambulances made sense; they were visible, urgent, and immediately helpful. But they addressed symptoms, not the source. Symptoms are never-ending if the cause remains untouched. Every trip to the hospital carried a cost: time, resources, stress, and, above all, the belief that the situation was under control.

This happens everywhere. In companies, outdated processes stay in place for years not because they work, but because no one sees them any longer. In communities, small inefficiencies accumulate because they are easier to ignore than to fix. In our personal lives, draining habits or relationships stay untouched because they have become part of our routine.

The real danger is not the problem itself; it is the comfort we develop around it. We begin to accept a certain level of inefficiency, discomfort, or even harm because change feels disruptive. But the cost of that comfort is often higher than we realize. We normalize the burden. We allocate resources to deal with the consequences. We get better at handling the impact without even asking if we still need to live with the cause.

But the most dangerous barrier was not money, time, or leadership. It was the untested assumption that the hole should stay — that it was permanent, that the problem must be lived with, not eliminated.

Assumptions like these act as invisible walls. They quietly define the limits of our solutions without us even realizing it — until someone from the outside, with a different perspective, dares to rethink what everyone else takes for granted.

That is what made the consultant’s suggestion so unexpected. It was not a perfect solution, but it revealed the real problem: the villagers had accepted the hole’s existence without question.

Sometimes, solving a problem is not about tools or effort; it is about vision. It is about remembering that just because something has always been there does not mean it should be. The hole could have been filled years ago — but it was not, simply because no one saw it anymore. It had disappeared in plain sight.

The lesson here is not just about holes or ambulances. It is about how we approach problems in general. So next time you find yourself working harder, adding layers, optimizing responses — pause, step back, and ask yourself: What have we stopped seeing? What have we silently accepted just because it’s familiar?

Always remember that the scariest problems are not always the ones we fear; they are the ones we have stopped noticing. Sometimes, all it takes to solve them is to notice them again.

• Firas Abussaud is a petroleum engineering systems specialist with more than 22 years of experience in the industry.