In September 2023, on the lawn at MIT Endicott House, I walked across a bed of burning coals. I have the video. In it, I am all smiles - arms up, face lit, striding across something that should have stopped me cold. It looks effortless. It looks like the kind of thing a confident person just decides to do one afternoon. What the video does not show is the two hours before it. The nerves. The fear that sat in my chest and would not move. The tears ... real ones. The moment I g

Twelve years ago, I dropped my twin boys off at preschool for the first time. I made it back to the car. I did not make it much further than that. I was so overcome that I drove straight to the paint store, picked out a teal I had no plan for, went home, and painted both upstairs bathrooms. Walls. Ceilings. All of it. I didn't care if it matched anything. I didn't care if I even liked the color. I needed to do something. I needed a physical representation of what was moving t

Every fall, leadership teams sit down to plan next year's budget, headcount, and goals. Almost none of them sit down to ask a harder question first: does our team actually feel like they matter here? Not "are they engaged," according to a survey nobody reads closely. Not "is retention okay this quarter." The real question, the one underneath all the metrics: If someone on your team disappeared tomorrow, would the way you'd treated them tell them they'd mattered, or just that

For nearly twenty years, I thought I knew exactly what I was building toward. I'd helped grow a division at Title Alliance from $1,000 to $17.3 million in annual revenue. I became Chief Strategy Officer. I had the title, the region, the team, the trajectory. If you'd asked me what came next, I would have told you: more of the same, just bigger. A bigger region. A bigger title. A bigger officer. Then in May of 2024, the company made the decision before I did. I didn't have a f

Before I take on any new client, I ask one question: What do you want people to feel when they interact with you? Most people pause before they answer. Not because it's a hard question, but because almost nobody has actually sat down and named it on purpose. Here's the thing I've realized, though: that question is really just a smaller version of a much bigger one, the one every single person is silently asking, whether they're your customer, your employee, your teammate, or

Last year I wrote about a golden Easter egg hidden in a grocery delivery. A fifty-cent candy and a handwritten note from a Giant Direct employee named Imani, and how it became a core memory for my whole family. I've wondered since then whether that was a one-off. A lucky draw, one employee with a big heart on the right day. Then last month happened. The Trip I took my daughter, three of her friends, and one of my mom's friends to New York, a girls' trip, staying at the Kimpto

Last week we packed up the whole crew, my in-laws, my aunt and uncle, my family, Audrina's friend, and a friend of my boys', and headed to Lake Wallenpaupack. Before we left, I put together waterproof bags for all the girls, packed with a few things for the boat, and custom sweatshirts, each one with "LAKE" across the front. I tucked a handwritten note into every bag too. The note said something I say all the time, to clients, in keynotes, in my book: the best memories aren't

I made a reservation. That's it. That was my entire résumé at the door. I wasn't a critic. I wasn't a regular. I wasn't anyone's VIP list. I was a woman with a friend and a 7 o'clock table at Atlas, the restaurant inside the St. Regis in Buckhead, Georgia - a Michelin one-star, Forbes Five-Star dining room that has every excuse in the world to be intimidating. Instead, they made me feel like I'd been expected my whole life. It started before we ever walked in When they called

About a year ago, my friend Felicia got handed a white chocolate cowboy boot on a stage in Reno. Felicia runs High Mark Distillery, and I was there signing books for her Barrel Club investors. Jimmy, the guitarist hired to play that night, and his wife wanted to thank her, not with a card, but with something made for her. So before Jimmy's set, he called Felicia up and handed her that boot, filled with chocolates. Rugged. Bold. Her. Then they called me up next. I got a leopar

When people talk about creating unforgettable experiences, they often think about big budgets, elaborate surprises, or over-the-top moments. I don't. I think about ten seconds outside a Broadway theater. After seeing The Great Gatsby on Broadway, we joined the crowd waiting at the stage door. The performers began making their way down the line, signing Playbills and greeting fans. The girls were especially hoping to meet Corbin Bleu. When he reached us, Helana looked at him a

For as long as I can remember, riding in a helicopter had been on my bucket list. Not because I dreamed of owning one. Not because I wanted to post a picture on social media. I simply thought it would be an incredible experience. Years before that dream became a reality, I walked into a colleague's home and found dozens of leather, fabric, and finish samples spread across his dining room table. He was buying a helicopter. As someone who appreciates design and details, I was f

Last week I went to the Noah Kahan concert at Citizens Bank Park. It was everything you'd hope it would be. Great music. Great atmosphere. Thousands of people singing every word. But that's not what I've been thinking about today. I've been thinking about the wristbands. As we walked into the stadium, every person was handed a small LED wristband. I remember putting it on and thinking, "Oh, that's kind of cool." And then I forgot about it. Until the lights went down. Suddenly