I love not having to deal with other drivers. I love not having to pay $30 to park downtown. I love watching the world pass by from the huge windows of the bus.

But know what I particularly love?

The people.

The people who ride the bus are young, they are old, they are students, they are professors, they are working people, they are parents. They are all on their way somewhere.

They carry suitcases and backpacks and grocery bags and pocket books and teeny tiny crossbody bags.

They willingly move over to accommodate a person using a wheelchair or a walker, or a parent with a double stroller. They save the seats marked for seniors for seniors.

And the thing that utterly delights me is that 95% of the people who ride the bus thank the driver when they get on, and also when they get off.

If you’re on the bus with twenty people, you will hear nineteen of them say, “Hi” or “Hello” or “Thanks for stopping for me!” (my favorite), as people scan their Metro cards. And you will hear all of them say, “Thank you!” as they exit from either the front or the back of the bus.

Makes me smile every time.

Which is totally worth the $2.25 fare.

I mean, I’d even pay more for everything I get from the experience.

Because witnessing people being kind to other people reminds me about what’s really important. That even while there are those who would divide us, who harp on how horrible the world is, who pit us against one another… there are just so many kind people who say thank you to the bus driver.

And when we come out of this period of history - because this tumultuous, agonizing period of history we are living through right now is a lot - we will come out of it because of how we connect to one another.

Person to person.

It’s how we see one another, how we care for each other, how we live in community with people we don’t even know, that will make the difference.

Most of us already do it, and we can choose to do more of it, every day.

How am I so sure?

Because I see it on the bus all the time.

The phone rang with a call I wasn’t expecting. I glanced down at the caller ID and saw that it was a friend I adore. I quickly answered.

“Phew,” she said, “I’m so glad you picked up. I don’t know why but things feel so weird and I thought that if anyone could understand this, it would be you.”

Now, my friend is at the top of her field. She’s highly skilled, highly respected, a thought leader. She’s amazing. So I was a little surprised to hear those words come out of her mouth, but I was ready to be there for her.

“Tell me what’s going on,” I said.

See, she’s been very intentional about her life. She set goals, she created space for her dreams, she made a way through the hard stuff. And now, at this point in her life, all of her planning has paid off.

She has everything she’s ever wanted, the way that she wants it, and on her own terms.

And somehow things just don’t feel right.

”OK,” I said. “Is it that there’s something missing? Or is it that what you thought you wanted isn’t what you really wanted?”

Because either could be true, or it could be something else.

”It’s that I thought that when I got here, it would feel… different.”

Which stopped me in my tracks. Because I recognized myself in that sentiment.

I, too, have worked for years to have the spaciousness in my calendar that I now have. I have a wonderful roster of clients and a perfect flow of new work. I have a great home, a lovely neighborhood, and adult children who are close by. I get to read all the books I want, and see all the people I want to see.

What’s not to like?

And, yet.

Like my friend, I kind of feel… restless. Like there is something just a little bit… something.

The other day I read a piece in the New York Times, and the author wrote: “The future has never been assured, but it feels as though we are living in a time of spectacular uncertainty.” Could my friend and I both be feeling the effects of the realization that while we have things in place right now - who knows what tomorrow might bring?

Maybe.

All I know, and what I shared with my friend is that sometimes we do everything right and there’s still no resolution.

Sometimes we can put all possible certainty into our plans, and some sort of unexpected earthquake rumbles up to change the landscape.

We can be successful and still face vulnerabilities.

Which is what my friend was discovering. What we were uncovering.

It’s hard to hear, but there is no insurance against uncertainty. There’s just the awareness that you’ve done tough things before and you’re going to do them again.

It’s knowing that when things are weird, you’re not going to freeze - you’re going to move in the direction that feels more and more right.

For her, it may revolve around getting chickens. For me, it looks like writing more often here on Substack.

That feels really right.

Today feels like a good day to remind you of the old saying:

”Measure twice, cut once.”

Most of the people I work with are moving really fast. The stakes are high, the scale is mammoth, the pace is unrelenting.

And the instinct, when things are so pressing, is to cut out the “non-essentials”.

But when you cut out “thinking time”, or postpone it, you are effectively cutting before you even measure.

Which… yikes.

Developing a reliable practice where you can step back from what you’re doing to take a look at the big picture - where you can get clear on who you are and what you’re trying to achieve - can actually save you time.

Clarity is your tape measure. And getting to that clarity allows you to make an important pencil mark before you act.

So, keep your brainstorming meeting. Keep your meal with your mentor. Keep your executive coaching session. Keep your appointment with your therapist. Make time to let your mind wander when you’re on the treadmill or on a run.

You could always just sit somewhere and see what happens with your thought process.

It’s not wasting time. It’s saving time.

Because taking the measure of the moment dramatically increases the odds that you are going to get it right. The first time.

It’s very likely that I’m not the first person today to tell you that things out there in the work world are really rough. Reports of more than 1.1 million Americans laid off in 2025 not only strike fear in the hearts of working people but if it’s happened to you, it can feel pretty bleak.

I can’t tell you how many people have been coming to me to ask if now is the time to start a consulting business. And I generally say, “Sure… with a few caveats.” Then I ask them:

• What are you really looking for? Do you feel like you have something valuable to offer your prospective clients? What can you do that nearly no one else can do?

• Can you temperamentally pivot to creating opportunities rather than having work assigned to you?

• Are you ready to treat the next phase of your working life like a legit business, or are you looking for a bridge to another corporate gig?

Then, I add, for good measure:

• Come on, what do you really want?

Because that’s the key point.

Start a consulting practice if you can imagine that there’s something uniquely valuable in what you have to offer. Insight? Advice? Strategy? Processes? Connections? Solutions? This is your unique selling point.

It’s not my first rodeo, so I know what you’re wondering right now: OK, but how do I get my first consulting client?

Easy. You ask for it.

Think about your former co-workers and where they are now. I mean co-workers from ten years ago or even longer. Where are they, and what issues are they facing?

You may need to rekindle connections or reactivate relationships. If you need a primer on that, read this piece from me: Never Do Networking Again

And then you find a way to say, “You know that problem you were telling me about? I can help you with that.”

Simple. And 95% of the time, your people will say, “You can?! What a relief.”

It’s a relief both ways, believe me, when you land that first assignment.

OK, shall we go all nitty-gritty?

First, get your home office set up. You’ll need a dedicated space - I’ve had my own business for over 20 years so please learn from my experience. Using the kitchen table as a workspace doesn’t feel “real”. Having an “office” gives your inner self a cue that “now we’re working”, which is the right mindset to approach your day-to-day routine.

Second, get your business set up. You will need to incorporate, either as an S-Corp or an LLC. Please consult an attorney or accountant to help you do this, and get an EIN, which is like a Social Security number for your business. With that number, you can open a business checking account and get a credit card with your business name.

And may I opine on your business name? The biggest thing you have going for you as a consultant is your reputation. Name your business after yourself because you’ve spent years building that brand. You don’t have time to build brand awareness around some cutesy, fanciful, generic name. Be yourself, says the woman who incorporated Michele Woodward Consulting, Inc. in 2004.

Third, always use a contract or agreement. Your attorney can supply you with a template to use for every engagement. This is critical because you need to make sure you’re clear on scope and scale… and payment.

Money is funny stuff. Especially if you’ve been laid off or given an unexpected off ramp from a longtime employer. Sometimes we can feel desperate, and as though we are thisclose from living in a van down by the river. So we say yes to anything. Anything that brings money in the door. And we underprice because we don’t want to seem too grabby, or we don’t know our own worth, or our sense of self has been trampled by the circumstances of our recent exit.

Always, always, always, ask: What’s the budget for this project? And if they say, “You tell us”, then I want you to sit back and think about everything you bring to the table. Think about your capabilities, your assets, your smarts. Remember what you paid consultants in your previous jobs. Then come up with three options to present to the client - a big, whopping number with all the bells and whistles, a more moderate offer with definite deliverables, and a bare bones proposal with simple solutions.

I will assure you that they will always take Door #2. So price confidently.

The best thing about having a consulting business is that you can size it and scale it in a way you can’t do when you’re working within an organization.

You want to take August off? Take August off. You want to pursue a certificate program from your local university? You do it. You want to work Wednesday, Thursday and Friday? You can.

Your business is yours to shape.

And it’s on you to make sure it reflects who you are and what you want to accomplish in this world.

You may find that you have more creative, intentional space than you’ve ever had in your working life. You may delight in being able, finally, to say no to things that aren’t really in alignment with who you are now.

And may you also find that you are able to say, for the first time, a very enthusiastic yes to the things that intrigue, enliven and inspire you.

Good for you, you consultant, you.

Now, for some of us, the DMV is the ninth circle of Hell. Delays, inefficiences. Paperwork. Sullen and indifferent personnel. Nonsensical processes.

And I had purchased a new-to-me car that needed inspection, registration and new plates.

Yay, me. A trip to the DMV!

On the way over, I thought about what I wanted the experience to be - I have so little bandwidth for BS these days.

Because there is such tumult and uncertainty in our world. War in the Middle East, war in Europe, war in Africa, war in Asia. Skyrocketing gasoline prices, soaring rents. Political uncertainty, fraught relationships due to political disagreement. Layoffs at work, slowdowns at work, or no work at all.

Friends, it’s a lot.

So, as I drove the DMV last week, I was really focused on what I could do to make the experience the best possible for me on that exact day.

I decided that it was completely up to me to determine how it would go.

I rolled into the inspection station and the woman at the entrance braced up. I could actually see her body language go tense. So I rolled down my window, looked her right in the eye and said, “I am so glad to see you standing in the sun! Isn’t it great weather? Boy, we deserve this after the winter we’ve had!” And she leaned toward me, grinning, and said, “I was just thinking that, too! It’s a beautiful day!”, we chitchatted for a minute or two, and then she smiled as she directed me to the next stop.

I rolled into the inspection bay and the young man there also braced up, as if he was expecting a difficult interaction. I mean, it’s the DMV, and I bet he’s seen it all. I stepped out of my vehicle, saying, “Hey, thanks so much for taking care of this for me. I really appreciate it.” He looked at me sidewise, like, “huh?” and then complimented me on my newish car, and I asked him how many vehicles he inspects each day, and he told me how he got the job, and how much he likes it. Then handed me his card and asked if I’d leave a review for him. I looked at his card, called him by his name saying, “Absolutely, Oscar!” and moved on to the next station.

The man there was about my age, and was, once again, a little removed. I hung my head out of the window and greeted him with something silly, and he laughed. We bantered and he ended up taking out his phone and showing me photos of the retirement cabin he’s building in Southern Virginia. We ended our time together with me wishing him a happy retirement and he wishing me a happy birthday because he could see the date on my paperwork.

I drove to the administrative offices with a buoyed sense of happiness. My plan for the DMV was working!

Inside the building, I waited for about twenty minutes until my number, G214, was called. The clerk was youngish, distracted, and heavy-sighing. I said, “I think I have all the paperwork I need here, but you will have to tell me if anything is missing. I hope I’ve done it right.” She raised her eyebrows and took my papers.

I complimented her fingernail art. It really was extraordinary.

She shared that she had gotten them done in memory of her father, who had died in January. She made eye contact, almost checking to see what I would say. Would I go there with her?

I met her eyes and said, simply, “My mother also died in January.”

She said, “January 13th,” and I replied, “January 10th”, and she said, “Almost the same time.”

We spent a few minutes talking about grief, and hospice, and those family members who showed up and those who didn’t.

It was real, and honest, and completely human. For both of us.

What a reminder.

Amidst all the worry and uncertainty in the world, the only thing you control is how you show up. For yourself, sure. For others, too.

You want things to be easy? Then be easy. You want connection? Make a connection. You want a better experience? Then make eye contact, let down your guard, be a human being.

And even going to the DMV - or whatever you’ve been dreading in your own life - can be a lovely, uplifting experience.

A man was thrown in prison because his religious beliefs conflicted with those of his government.

His assets were seized. His family was threatened.

In jail, he huddled with up to 100 other imprisoned men in close quarters, with threadbare cots for comfort, and climbing stairs the only exercise available.

His brothers had renounced their faith to protect their business interests, and when their brother’s health began to fail, they appealed to the authorities to release the prisoner on humanitarian grounds. “Let him come home to die,” they asked.

Upon his release, he was immediately smuggled out of France on a ship bound for Holland. Accompanying him were his wife, his children, and a group of other religious dissenters. From Holland, they made their way to London where they became British citizens, and set off for America where they found safety, security and a new start.

The man, this French Huguenot, Gabriel Bernon, was my eighth great-grandfather. The year of his imprisonment was 1685.

And last week I stood on the wharf where Gabriel and his wife, Esther LeRoy, took a launch out of La Rochelle harbor to a waiting boat. Their view of the Vieux Port on their departure was much like the view today - the Chain Tower, the Lantern Tower and the Saint Nicolas Tower still stand, guarding the harbor.

It was moving, to say the least.

Because they never saw their home country again once they left its shores.

But then I went into the Lantern Tower, which is where Gabriel was imprisoned. I stood in the very room where he was held captive, and it was profound. The walls were full of etchings and graffiti left by years and years of men held against their will.

I felt washed in gratitude that Gabriel had survived and had found welcome in America.

I felt so grateful that I am here, today, because of his courage.

When he and the family got to Boston in 1688, they set about helping to build things. He contributed to the creation of a city called New Rochelle, New York. He helped found churches in Providence, Kingston and Newport, Rhode Island. He resumed his merchant business, and established a settlement of French people in Oxford, Massachusetts.

He was able to create in this country because he was given a chance.

It’s likely that the living descendants of Gabriel and Esther today number over 20,000. That’s 20,000 Americans who probably don’t know this story. Who don’t know the incredible benefit they received from a country that opened its arms to their ancestors.

Standing on that wharf last week, I was reminded that every immigrant and refugee we welcome today is some future American’s grandmother or grandfather.

They build our nation. They add and contribute and matter.

Just as your own ancestors did. And mine.

We don’t know how we’re going to make it, but we know we have to get moving.

We can’t predict how it’s going to go, or whether we’re going to even get there, but we know we can’t stay where we are.

I’m reminded of crossing a frozen pond.

When you need to cross an icy surface, first you take a hard look at the surface and determine if the ice looks solid enough.

Then you take one small step with one foot, keeping the other foot on solid ground.

You wait a minute.

Then you inhale a deep breath and put the other foot on the ice.

You take a small, flat-footed step.

Then another.

You might wait another minute. Listening.

If you’re really lucky, you have someone to walk with.

Someone to check in with - “This ice looks solid, right?”

Maybe you laugh together at your caution.

Maybe you hold hands when you need to.

Maybe you wait together to listen for the sounds of cracking ice.

Or even the music of the wind blowing through the trees.

You slip a little, slide a little, wave your arms to hold onto your balance from time to time.

But step by step, moment by moment, you cross that perilous path.

And pretty soon, you’re on the other side, touching solid ground. Right where you wanted to go.

Relieved. Ready. Reminded of your resilience.

Right now, many of us are thinking about stepping onto the ice, or are already halfway across. It’s slippery, it’s scary, and it’s unpredictable.

But I believe you’ll get across. I believe I will get across.

We’ll make it across, friends. We’ll make it if we walk together.

“OK, write about it,” my friend said when I test drove the topic I’ll share with you today. “Just don’t spend too much time reminding me of the pandemic. I just can’t talk about that anymore.”

“I gotcha,” I replied, and yet here I am mentioning it. Only to make my point, of course.

The pandemic was dislocating for so many of us, all around the world. For those whose previous life had featured a predictable commute to the office, and a fairly regular sort of work day filled with meetings with co-workers and clients and customers, with some business travel thrown in here and there, things got particularly dislocating because it seemed like everything changed. In a quick, confusing minute.

No more commute. No more shooting the breeze with Chris and Kate in Jerry’s office. No more lunches grabbed at the deli down the street.

No more business travel.

You know, on an average day as a working professional, before the great dislocation, you might have spent less than five hours at home with your family. Let’s do the math: Wake up at 6:30am, eat, get ready for work, get other people ready for their day, out the door at 7:45am for your 45 minute commute to the office, arriving at 8:30am. Work all day, leaving at 6:30pm, now it’s an hour commute, getting you home at 7:30pm. Walk the dog, have something to eat, help with homework, watch some TV, in bed by 11pm. That’s 4.75 hours awake at home.

On a good day.

Having 24 hours a day at home was extremely dislocating for so many of us. Relationships calibrated by distance became frayed. We learned that what you can put up with for 4.75 hours a day becomes unbearable when the hours stretch out.

So marriages ended, and friendships, too. Which created significant dislocation.

Everything, it seems, that we had relied upon to order and structure our lives went up for grabs. And, a few years after it all went down, here we are, still feeling pretty dislocated.

Office buildings are empty. Do you go in two days a week, or three? Does anyone go in five days a week? Do you even bother to go to trade shows? Conferences?

Oh, and the people you worked with in December 2019? You might not be working with them now because of the Great Resignation. Or downsizing. Or sector collapse.

Dislocation.

Add in the rise of Gen Z (earliest career folks) and Millennials (the oldest of whom are now 43 years old) in the workplace, with their deep desire to marry ambition with boundaries, to have a say in the operation of the organization, and you get another dislocation, especially among the people who came up through a command-and-control, do what you’re told system.

The profound dislocation that comes when nothing that used to work continues to work - it’s hard, friends.

And stops plenty of us in our tracks, causing uncertainty, unhappiness and deep stuckness.

Are we doomed? Does it ever get better? Can we move from dislocation to… location?

Sure, we can. In fact, I believe we are called right now to become located. It just takes a little thoughtful reorientation.

First, 2019 is never coming back so lovingly leave it in the past where it belongs. Holding that Before Time in your mind as “right” is holding you back from all that’s available to you - here at your fingertips.

So locate to here, now. Locate around what is working in your world. Locate around innovation and embrace what there is to learn in something new.

Locate your people - your community - embrace them, and don’t let them go. Let these relationships center and inform you.

Locate your sense of humor and find the joy of discovery. Learn from your early career colleagues and learn from your later career colleagues, too.

Allow your mind to change.

This moment is where you are. Right here, right now, breathing.

There is so much available to you, if only you open your eyes, and your heart.

Feeling dislocated is only cured by actively seeking out location. Here. Now. You. Me.

Us.

I’m going on the record: It’s time to cancel networking.

You know the networking I’m talking about - big ballroom, superficial conversations in a loud room, passing out a hundred business cards, people looking over your shoulder to see if a “higher value” person might be nearby, adding strangers to your social media, and a deep sense of “bleah!” and a need for a shower once you leave.

And I say that as a raging extrovert.

It’s just too transactional for today. The pandemic taught a lot of people that the usual rigamarole of work is no longer meaningful. Like, for instance, coming in to the office every single day. Business travel. Long commutes. BS.

What people are hungry for, it seems to me, is relationship and connection.

Which is why networking has to change.

I am a connector. I love putting people together, solving problems, making stuff happen. As a result, I have done my share of connecting with strangers who want to “pick my brain”. After having my cerebral matter combed, there’s a type of person who leans forward to earnestly ask, “Now, what can I do for you?”

They have just, singlehandedly, turned our interaction into a transaction.

Which leaves me completely cold. And a wee bit grouchy, if I’m completely honest.

But when that same meeting ends with, “I’m so glad I met you! I’d love to introduce you to A Really Interesting Person Who I Think You’ll Love”, I feel great. And disposed to see what I can do to help that person.

To me, replacing “networking” with “relationship building”, makes the entire world open up.

We can have a phone call, or lunch, or a glass of wine, or even a comment thread on social media - and I ask nothing of you. I can do that three, four, five times and get to know you. And then, when I do ask you for help, maybe you’re predisposed to give it.

Or vice versa.

Because you know me, and I know you. Even just a little bit. Because a little bit is a whole lot better than not at all when it comes to doing favors.

Which is the goal of networking.

Relationship building also means we could have worked together ten years ago, stay in contact (even if it’s just from time to time), and then, when I’m considering hiring your firm or making a move - I reach out with a warm call, rather than a cold call. Which works for everyone, all around.

Does this mean that when you have an interaction with someone you can’t tell them what you’re trying to accomplish in your life? Of course you can tell them! Give yourself 90 seconds during the conversation to say, “Oh, I’m thinking about switching careers because I’ve met all my goals in my current role and really want to move into something where I can flex my creative muscles. Since that’s your world, got any ideas for me?”

Perfectly wonderful conversation for friends to have.

What I’m suggesting doesn’t mean the death of informational interviews, btw, although I do wince when I hear the phrase. Instead, initial meetings should be considered the beginning of what may be a beautiful friendship, or at least a very nice connection.

What the world needs now, my dears, to paraphrase the immortal Burt Bacharach and Hal David, is relationship, sweet relationship, rather than transaction, cold, unfeeling, yucky transaction.

Because when you’re open to being known and to know others, your world becomes incredibly rich. And incredibly wonderful things happen for you.

Like getting what it is you want.

Refer a friend

One day not too long ago I facilitated an all-day meeting between two teams who need to align their efforts more effectively. To break the ice, I led off with a Communications Best Practices Classroom.

Since they were all experienced professionals, I asked, "How many of you have had communications training before?" Every hand shot up. "So let's crowdsource communications best practices, shall we? I'll start," I said.

And I went to the whiteboard and wrote:

JOHN MAYER

There were a few confused faces, so I said, "You know, that great foundational communcations concept - 'say what you need to say, say what you need to say, say what you need to say'."

The room lightened considerably.

"It's my hope that you can use "John Mayer" as shorthand for when you need to tee up a difficult conversation, or say something difficult," I said.

And they did. Pretty soon someone said, "I'm going to John Mayer here..." and other said, "To go all John Mayer..." Ultimately, people just said, "John Mayer" and followed up with, well, what needed to be said.

It was beautiful. The difficulties between the teams eased. Collaboration got going. And I hope calling "John Mayer" is a lasting way in to challenging conversations for these folks.

I'll bet John Mayer never thought he'd be a communications principle taught in board rooms, but he is and I did.

Share Livelihood with Michele Woodward

Dear Reader,

I wrote this piece in 2011, on the 10th anniversary of September 11th. I woke up thinking about it today and thought I’d share it with you - pulled from the vault.

***

I was feeling rather smug that morning.

I stood on the tee box of the seventh hole, under the bluest sky I'd seen in some time, the crisp early fall air like a tonic in my lungs. And I was playing my brains out - 2 strokes over par after the first six holes of a nine hole golf tournament.

I was even nervously allowing myself to think, "I could win this thing!"

I stood on the tee box in the casual pose I'd seen pro golfers strike, arm on hip, hand on the end of the club, leg crossed over. I posed like a woman who was going to win, baby.

But then I saw something. Coming over the ridge, a golf cart. I squinted. It was the young golf pro, and she was barreling directly for me. She screeched to a halt and breathlessly said, "Mrs. Woodward, you have to come in. Your husband called." She must have read something on my face, because she quickly added, "Your kids are fine. Everyone's fine. It's just that both World Trade Towers in New York have collapsed, there's a bomb at the Pentagon, there's a bomb at the State Department and something up at the Capitol." Panic started to well up inside me. "Your husband wants you to get the kids and go home."  I nodded, processing it all, and threw my bag on the back of her cart and we sped off. My playing partner stepped out of the porta-potty just in time to hear me say, "I concede.  I have to go."

And I didn't think about golf again for a very long time.

It took well over an hour to drive the six miles home. I picked up the kids - confused, frightened - on the way. During those gridlocked minutes in the car, I felt like a sitting duck. The local all-news radio station was reporting on fighter planes scrambling, and commercial planes landing. They also reported that there was one more plane, on the way to The White House. The White House, where I had worked, and where so many friends were working that day.

Crossing the Chain Bridge, I glanced to my left and saw a column of black smoke streaming over the tree tops. The Pentagon burning.

I could smell it.

It was surreal.

Our house is about a quarter of a mile from the Potomac River. Between the house and the river is the busy and noisy George Washington Parkway, which is traveled by 80,000 people every day. Usually, the hum of the cars whizzing past creates a gentle susurrus that can be as comforting as sitting by the ocean. And we also live under the flight path for Reagan National Airport, and the steady rumble of landing and taking off every six minutes is a part of the environment. It's a noisy place.

But that morning, under the bluest sky, I stood in my front yard and heard... nothing.  No traffic. No planes. Nothing. I held my arms out, as if I could embrace the world and share our pain, when I heard the first one. One deep tone. Then another. The National Cathedral had begun tolling its bells. Then the bells from other churches began to ring. Mournful, yes. But hope, too, in each tone. Hope. Hope. Hope.

I stood there, barefoot, broken-hearted, on one of the most beautiful days of the year. Worried. What could possibly come next?

I did an inventory: I had a husband I loved, I had great kids I could parent full-time. I had my family, my friends. We were blessed. We were safe. We were going to be okay.

That's what it looked like under the bluest sky. But the reality of the next ten years proved to be quite different than I ever could have imagined.

If a visitor from the future had told me,  that morning out on my front lawn, that in the next ten years:

I would divorce the man whose ring I wore on September 11, 2001, after learning some hard truths.

He would move away, remarry and start a new family.

I would be a single parent.

I would give up being a full-time mom and go back to work.

I would be diagnosed with cancer.

I would struggle financially.

Family and dear friends would die unexpectedly, some painfully.

My children would face challenges which would stop us in our tracks.

If the future visitor told me all that on September 11, 2001, I would have said, "You have to be kidding. It can't possibly go that way."

But if that visitor was telling the truth, he'd also have had to tell me the fantastic parts of the coming years:

That I would be known as a writer, with blogs and books.

That I would work with people all over the world - from Asia to Europe, from Canada to Mexico, from Alaska to The Keys - and help them find more fulfilling work, and meaningful lives.

That I'd meet strangers who would grow dear to my heart.

That a certain 8-year old third grader would become a happy, thoughtful, kind, six foot tall college man with a thriving business he created from scratch.

That a little kindergartner would grow into a willowy high school athlete who studies Latin and history, and never forgets a friend.

That I would fund my own retirement account.

That I would own my resilience, know myself and grow comfortable in my own skin.

If the visitor from the future had told me under the bluest sky that I would grow to be more myself - more happy, centered and creative - than I've ever been, I would have, "Dude, you're talking to the wrong person."

Because I hadn't a clue on September 11, 2001. I thought I was happy. What could possibly change?

Only everything.

And always for the better, I've learned.  No matter how it seems in the moment.

Looking forward the next 10 years, to September 11, 2021, what will happen?  What change will I meet, and how will I handle it?

I have no idea. None. But I do know this: I am not afraid.

Because even all the pain of the last ten years has been exponentially outweighed by all the love. By all the connections. By all the growth. By all the learning.

On September 11, 2001, three thousand people lost their lives. They had no chance to experience the last ten years of living. But we did. We still do.

Don't you think we owe it to them to embrace whatever it is that's coming? And embrace it with love? With kindness? With creativity?

Yes, we do. And I will. I will live with my feet in the grass under skies both blue and gray, and remember the sound of bells tolling, hope, hope, hope.

Stand with me?

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So, it’s been a minute since I’ve been in your inbox and the problem has been…me.

You may recall that my intention for this space was to answer questions people have about work. I thought crowdsourcing questions would make topic selection “easy”, and that all I’d have to do is sit down and breezily answer burning questions.

Which is a strategy that works when you have a deluge of questions. Not so hot when you have nothing incoming.

At first, I waited. “A question will be coming! I’ll just push the pub date for a day or so.” Which turned into a week or so. Then a month or so.

Simultaneously, Substack was inundating me with incessant testimonials from writers who “now make +$100,000 writing on Substack! Learn their tips and tricks!!” These compare-and-despair bombs landed in my inbox a couple of times a day.

No questions were coming from readers, but exhortations about wealth opportunities I was missing were overly present.

I began to ask myself, “Am I doing something wrong? Am I leaving money on the table? Shouldn’t I be writing? Shouldn’t I?!”

I’m a pretty grounded, steady, even-keeled person and yet I got myself sideways with all that swirling energy.

Which took some time to work through.

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One day I was sitting around, minding my own business, when I remembered something about myself. About 15 years ago when my blog was getting some traction, a fancy New York magazine editor asked me if I’d meet with her while she was in DC for meetings.

Of course, I said yes. I mean: Fancy, NY, magazine, and editor are some of my favorite aspirational words.

I met this formidable force of nature at a bar near the White House. Her eyes raked over my clearly inadequate wardrobe (think Andy in Devil Wears Prada pre: Stanley Tucci). The woman ordered a second cocktail with a raised eyebrow toward the server and asked what I wanted to drink. I may have mumbled “white wine”, which drew another raised eyebrow. I guess I should have stipulated vintage, vintner, year and terroir.

Before I could even raise how nice the weather was, she went immediately into Deal Mode, telling me how often I’d need to write for her, how long the pieces would need to be, the requirements for me to post on social media, and how I’d have to show up at magazine events from time to time.

It felt like a lot. Like, a real lot.

Do you ever come up with a great line or quip 24 hours after a conversation? For me, in that moment, the great line popped right out of my mouth. I leaned forward and said, “What you don’t seem to understand is that I’m an executive coach who writes, not a writer who coaches.”

That was met with silent scrutiny on the part of the editor.

I went on to decline the opportunity because doing what she wanted me to do would mean I couldn’t work with the clients I love, doing the work I’m here on the planet to do.

And so it is with Substack. I got all caught up in the details of a strategy that’s not working, and the “make money while you sleep” hype, and lost sight of what I know best about myself:

I’m an executive coach who writes, not a writer who coaches.

So I’m going to use this space here to write to you about whatever’s on my mind, what’s coming up for my clients, what I’m observing. If you have a question, send it. But if you don’t - I’m not going to be phased.

I’m going to keep writing.

I have a handful of paying readers - and you are a delight - and I have thousands of free readers - and you are also a delight.

I am not here to create an empire. I’m here to be of service, and I hope you’ll let me continue to do that in your inbox.

Because, I’m an executive coach who writes. And you can count on that from me.

Michele,

What do you do when you’ve lost your confidence? I’m a Type-A guy who had a good job at one of the “Magnificent Seven” companies. I was shocked when I got laid off in one of the many downsizings that happened this year. My reviews had been very good but they needed to make their numbers so I was out the door. I made a lateral move when I took that job, going from managing a team to being a solo contributor. I worry that my resume doesn’t look that great when you look at my last job, and I wonder what I am really capable of doing. As the months pass by, I feel more and more like an unhireable impostor. What do you recommend I do now?

Appreciate you,

Former Tech Bro

Dear Tech Bro,

You’ve suffered a huge dislocation - what a friend calls “an identity earthquake” - and since so many of us define ourselves by what we do, no wonder you’re having a tough time.

Here’s the thing: I’ve always believed that when you know your strengths, your values, your priorities and your temperament, things get easier.

So how do you figure out your strengths, values, priorities and temperament?

There are a couple of assessments I can recommend:

• The VIA Character Strengths Survey - fortunately, this one is available at no charge

• CliftonStrengths - there is a fee for this one

When you receive your results, study them. Do they feel right? Dig in to the strengths at the top of the list and ask: Am I using these every day?

Am I also using these words to explain to employers who I am and what I can do for them?

On Values, you can use this helpful tool. When you’re finished, compare your values and your strengths. Any dots you can connect? Any themes emerging?

When it comes to priorities, you can use a tool I created: Personal Planning Tool. This one is designed to give you a chance to reflect and drives you toward creating priorities. You don’t need to finish it in one sitting like some random magazine quiz - take your time, be thoughtful, and chip away at it.

Your priorities may reveal something interesting to you. I had a client who discovered that one of the reasons she was disengaged from her work was because it was actually her sixth priority, behind her health, her family, her living situation and nearly everything else - and had a bit of paralyzing cognitive dissonance that she “should” prioritize work. Things improved for her when she accepted that her job was a means to an end for a finite period - not an end in and of itself, and she wasn’t a slacker. She just had a lot on her plate at the moment.

You may discover something surprising, too.

Then, the final piece of the puzzle. Your temperament. If you’re not working with an executive coach who has access to assessments, you can do your own personal review. Would you consider yourself an introvert or an extrovert? How do you like to behave in groups? Are you quick to action, or are you systematic and planful? You might pull together any assessments you took in your most recent jobs as well as your performance reviews and add them to your data points.

What do these things show you about yourself and how you do what you do?

When you collect all this information on your strengths, values, priorities and temperament, you will have insight into how you’re wired, and you may remember things about yourself that you’ve forgotten since you lost your job.

You may also have a renewed sense of where you need to go next. And to help you get yourself going, you can read this.

Remember that the vast majority of jobs are filled by personal referral, so make sure you’re reaching out to your former colleagues who’ve landed new roles, or who are already in good jobs.

These folks know you, like you, and know what you’re capable of doing.

But your energy matters, too. When you feel good about yourself and know - with no doubt - that you can create success in your next job, your energy becomes infectious. People will be drawn to you, and opportunities will open up.

You just have to take a deep breath and remember who you are.

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Dear Michele, I basically have my sh*&! together at work. I am organized and efficient and well-liked by my peers and team. But lately, even though I'm checking all the boxes, it's falling flat and leaving me hollow. I can get to "inbox zero" on the regular, but what are all these emails even about? It's like the process has swallowed the point.  How do I ensure that both my ends and my means are meaningful?  

Appreciate your thoughts,

Is This All There Is?

Dear This,

Ah, the dreaded administrivia*. There’s great satisfaction in getting to “inbox zero”, isn’t there? But if all you’re doing is reading semi-relevant emails with a long cc list, or answering the age old question, “Where is the such-and-such?”, or deleting numerous promos from Temu, what’s the point in that?

Where’s the feeling of accomplishment?

Because most of us really like the feeling that we’ve accomplished something during the day. That what we do matters.

That the things we’re giving up to be at work - like, oh, family life, exercise, reading a daggone novel for pleasure in the afternoon, Sundays - that those things are offset by the immense feeling of pride we have in a job well done.

I have a theory. It’s that everyone on planet Earth has exactly the same purpose in life: To do good. [You can argue with me on this, and cite people who purposely do bad, but I will say that some folks who do bad things think they’re doing good things.]

So, if our purpose here is to do good, then we each find meaning from the way we choose to do that good.

People choose to be kindergarten teachers so they can do good. People also choose to do the weather on TV because alerting the public to storms feels like doing good. Someone might choose a career in HR because they want to make happier workplaces.

However we choose to do good - that’s how we find meaning.

I would ask you, dear letter writer, to take a hard look at your work. Where’s the meaning? Where are you doing good?

Make time for reflection at the end of every day to ask yourself - where did I do good today? Where did I make a difference? Bring these things top-of-mind and you just might begin to feel better about your work.

If your sense of accomplishment doesn’t improve, though, it’s entirely likely that you’re suffering from burnout. A hallmark of burnout is the mind-numbing feeling of “same old, same old”. When you add a fast pace to “same old”, it becomes soul-numbing, and completely unsustainable.

To overcome burnout, it’s important to break up the same old processes you’ve been using. Go to work using a different route, and, if you work remotely, sit somewhere else to do your work. If all of your meetings are in the afternoon, shift some to the morning. Instead of eating lunch at your desk, go somewhere. Rather than grinding it out with hours and hours sitting in your office chair, take a fifteen minute walk around the block every 90 minutes.

That alone will change your life.

But what if you can’t shift the burnout feeling? Well, then you owe it to yourself to ask the challenging question: Am I done here?

Have you reached the end of this role? Are you finished?

Do you feel complete? Need something new or else?

Seth Godin says, in his book The Dip, that it’s not true that winners never quit and quitters never win. The truth is that winners know when to quit.

And I’ve never, ever worked with someone who regretted leaving a job they’ve burned out on for something else.

Mostly, people regret staying too long.

I can’t decide for you, but I promise that if you try each of the things I’ve mentioned, at least you’ll know more then than you know now.

And that, my friend, has got to be so much better for you.

*I first learned this word from a wonderful client and now can’t seem to stop using it. I work with the most clever people!

This week we take a look at “taking things to the next level”.

[Just a note: All subscribers are valuable to me. Thank you for giving me your time and attention. Paid subscribers receive occasional benefits like audio recordings and special posts. If that’s intriguing to you, please consider shifting to a paid subscription to support this work. And thank you!]

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Dear Michele,

I’m the new CEO of a medium-sized membership-based non-profit. It’s a new role for me even though I’ve been at the organization for about 15 years. During the pandemic, things got really tough for us. Membership dropped off and we couldn’t generate revenue from meetings and conferences as we had in the past. We had to tap into our reserves for the last three years to just break even.

Three new Board members are pressuring me to get the finances in better shape and then to “take the organization to the next level”. How do I do that? The money part feels overwhelming, and thinking about putting even more work on everyone’s plate to grow the organzation feels impossible. Any words of wisdom?

Thanks,

Exhausted CEO

Dear Exhausted,

I feel you. Getting an organization out of the red and into the black is a big job for any leader. Adding Board pressure to “take the organization to the next level” is an equally heavy lift.

Two thoughts for you:

1. Can you sequence? Often there are things on the To Do List which, when you accomplish them, make other things easier to finish. For instance, a focus on your website - including easy online membership registration and customer data - might begin to solve part of your revenue flow situation and help you grow your membership

2. Do you know what the Board members mean by “taking it to the next level”? I mean, specifically. If you didn’t clarify their intention when they said it, do so now. What will success look like? How will they know you’re at the next level? What are the markers you can put into place to make sure your team is aiming in the right direction? In The 9 Things Successful People Do Differently, researcher Heidi Grant suggests that it’s important to not only know where you’re headed but also appreciate where you started and where you are in the process. Make sure this awareness is part of your goal-setting. It’s critical

Also critical, once you know where you’re going, is the question: Do I have the right people in place to get us there? Given that you’ve been in the organization for years, I assume you are friends with most of the people you work with. So this line of inquiry can open up a lot of big feelings. But as CEO, you have to ask it.

Let’s imagine for a minute that you are the manager of a professional baseball team. The team owners want a World Series ring. You want a World Series ring. Your players want one, too.

But you have a beloved, face-of-the-franchise third baseman who’s struggling to make the throw from third to first. You’ll never make it all the way with this guy.

What do you do?

You give him drills to boost his ball handling skills, is what you do. You insist that he work with the strength coach. You get him sessions with the sports psychologist.

And if he doesn’t improve?

That beloved, face-of-the-franchise player moves to another, less taxing position, or he’s benched, or he’s traded. There really is no other choice.

Because you need to win the World Series.

This is the situation you find yourself in. Do you have the team you need to get where you need to go?

Is your IT department up to the task of modernizing your systems? Is your membership team motivated to drop what’s not working in favor of, possibly, a whole new approach? Is your communications team up to date on how social media works? Is your HR team ready? Your facilities people? Your finance folks? Your interns?

If they’re ready, great. If they aren’t quite ready, train them. And if they really can’t? You need to find a team who can.

Today’s question is a good one - maybe you’re asking it, too?

Dear Michele, 

I love my job, and I'm (finally) pretty good at it! But I also have probably 25+ years of my career ahead of me yet. I'm pretty sure I want to stay put for at least 5 more years to feel like I've really invested and built something. But, I can't see my whole career at this same organization (in part, there's scant room to grow into a different position from my current one). How should I think about doing the things I need to do for my next move when it still feels far off? I'm lacking urgency, so how do I think about this strategically?

Sincerely, 

Happy where I am but not forever

Dear Happy,

There’s something about the work ethic we’ve been taught and it boils down an attitude of, “Well, they’re paying me. I guess owe them 120% of my time and attention.” So we show up every day, put our heads down, do the work, collect the pay, go home and watch Netflix.

And we do it again the next day. And the next.

Which can be OK if the season you’re in is helped by having stability and sameness (i.e., parenting, caregiving, getting a degree, writing that novel), and it can also be OK if the work you’re doing feels fulfilling and interesting.

But, as you say, dear Happy, there isn’t upward mobility where you are now, so you’re going to have to leave someday. What do you do until then?

Fortunately, I have some thoughts.

One, don’t forget that there’s a whole, wide, big world out there, and there are so many people to meet beyond the walls of your office. Go to conferences and actually mingle and meet new people. Then, stay in touch with a few of them. Who knows - one or two might turn into great friends who will become your champions when it is time for you to find a new position.

Second, stay on top of your education and learning. Keep your credentials up to date and earn new ones. Of course, both learning opportunities are super ways to meet new people, develop relationships, grow your network.

Third, make sure you are known to your professional community. If you can write articles (and places like Substack certainly make that easy), appear on panels, do other media, you become seen as an expert in your field. People love to hire experts they’ve read about, heard on a podcast or seen on TV.

Too many times folks come to me, ready to make a change in their professional situation and I ask: “How’s your network?” and they reply “Well, I’ve been really busy…” And then I ask, “What are you known for?” and they can’t really say.

Finding something new is a complete slog for those folks.

But with a little awareness and intention, you can make changing jobs easier. When you know you have a move *sometime* in your future, it’s wise to keep an eye on the world outside your organization. Keep learning and growing. Keep making and maintaining relationships out in the world. Let people know who you are and what you know how to do.

And then let that next opportunity unfold for you at exactly the right time, generated by all the people who think you are amazing.

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About six months ago, I sketched out an idea about the relationships people need at work to be truly successful. The image was hugely helpful to my clients (and to me), and I considered getting a graphic designer to make it pretty.

Of course, I never got around to finding that graphic designer.

But the other day I figured out how to whip it up on Adobe, and ended up with:

And then I posted it on social media and explained the concept:

Sometimes when my clients are struggling at work, I ask them to do a quick check:

- Do they have Champions who will sing their praises to other people?

- Do they have Allies who have their back?

- Do they have Mentors who will show them the way?

- Do they have raving fans at work?

Too often good old rugged individualists will neglect forming these kinds of relationships because a) they don't think they need them, b) it should happen automagically if it's going to happen at all, c) it seems way too hard, and/or d) I am way too busy and these people are way too needy. Or maybe e) All of the above.

But no one succeeds all by themselves. No one. And frequently the thing that makes the biggest difference when times get tough, or you have to sell in change, or people need to support your tough decision, comes down to having fans.

So I made this little graphic to illustrate what I mean. You need all these people to be successful at work.

I just gotta ask: Do you have them?

Which prompted a question from C. in Los Angeles:

Interesting post today re FANS and also a request for your next post… what if you do not have enough FANS? Or for all those out of work and feeling nervous about the future… How does one create them while (and while not) currently employed?

If you don’t have enough Fans - meaning you have few Champions, Allies or Mentors - the easiest thing you can start to do is start being helpful to others at work.

You might say, “Michele, you have no idea how cutthroat this place is. No one is nice. We eat what we kill, and I’d be killed if I started being nice.”

[Editor’s Note: Have you ever considered finding another job?]

If you work in a snakepit, your task is to find the easiest snake to deal with - the garter snake of your office - and develop your relationship with that person. Help them out. Ask them for advice. Connect. Be useful when they’re stuck.

Be a good human.

And at least you will have one fan at the office. So when your name comes up in a meeting and you’re not in the room, that one person will say, “Let me tell you why she’s amazing.”

Let me tell you: This sort of support in a critical moment can make or break a career.

Just a side note here, your Champions, Allies and Mentors don’t necessarily have to be people you manage up to. They can be entry level folks, admin staff, security guards, anyone.

If you’re going to be truly successful at work, you need folks at every level who are your fans.

Finally, if you’re out of work and want to create raving fans, use the same tactics: Be helpful. Ask for advice. Be in connection. Be useful.

Be a good human.

That’s how you build your fanbase.

• Having more success at work

• Dealing with tough situations and difficult people

• Centering in your strengths, values, priorities

• Career management

• Being and accepting yourself

• Creating high performing teams

• How and when to say yes (or no)

Look here every week for juicy questions and answers you can use yourself.

And, if you have a question, please send it to me and I’ll answer it in turn. Your privacy will always be protected.

Let’s get started.

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