Imagine it’s the early 1900s. Two cowboys on horseback are riding a dusty, well-traveled trail on the outskirts of town when they hear a strange noise approaching from behind. Glancing over their shoulders, they see for the first time an automobile. Consider the conversation that follows as the vehicle passes: the excitement, the curiosity, and the stories of the experience they share with their family and friends that evening.

Now consider that these two men were each business owners, one the maker of wagons and the other of saddles. Little did they comprehend that day how the arrival of this exciting new machine would, in the years ahead, disrupt their livelihood and their lives. It is likely that the town officials and planners that saw their first automobile were equally naïve as to the impact this new form of transportation would have on their world. Unaware that in the not-too-distant future they would be debating the need for stop signs, parking lots, and traffic laws and discussing how these would impact the local community and its businesses.

Beyond the Comfort Zone

an a comfort zone actually be “bad”? It begs closer examination, especially if what feels good is simply an excuse to avoid what is challenging. Most of us want to work by feel—if it feels good it must be OK, right? But I have come to believe that even bad habits can feel good just because they are familiar.

I learned this lesson the hard way more than once in my own life, and I use these experiences in my work as a communications coach and consultant. A large part of my job is help ease my clients into “changes,” which often serve as a return to their most authentic self. Even the most subtle change can feel scary when done in front of colleagues, clients, or—gasp!—a large audience. Fear of embarrassing oneself, fear of making mistakes from which we cannot recover, fear of emotional judgments and rejection—all of these fears create a safety zone from which it is difficult to move.

osing talent sucks. Unless you’re the general manager of a big-market baseball team, you can’t just pay someone 10 times what they made last year to keep them around. On top of that, employees have mobile 401(k)s, and at times can demonstrate patience and gratitude akin to a teething puppy. This all makes it extra challenging (but not impossible) to retain employees without breaking the bank. As an accountant, I feel obligated to also warn that losing and replacing employees is very expensive. The good news is, I’ve seen plenty of non-monetary ways to support teams and avoid costly turnover.

I put turnover into two categories: “good” and “bad.” Good turnover is when an employee leaves a good situation for something that they think is an even better opportunity. Bad turnover is when an employee leaves what they feel is a bad situation. Losing talent for good reasons is hard, but I’ll never fight it since I care about my teammates. However, I never want to lose a talented employee for bad reasons.

he summer I turned five, my mother signed the lease to the upstairs apartment of a house in Flatbush, Brooklyn. It was my seventh household in five years. She was a single mom whose stepmother had kicked her out of her home after her father died three years earlier.

My journey to Brooklyn took place on both sides of the Atlantic, living with family and living in foster homes. But by the summer of my fifth birthday, I was on a course to a stable, productive life. The reason? Community.

In each of those settings, from when we were set adrift until we settled in Brooklyn, a network of concerned adults cared about me and for me. A community came together around me and made me believe I belonged. They supported my mom during challenging times. They checked in on us, made connections, and provided a soft place to land if we fell. In those first few years we fell more than once. The journey, even at such a young age, taught me a lot about leadership and the impact that leaders can have on people, or, in my case, even a small child. It also showed me that leadership was not words, it was actions and an approach to others.

I Don’t Believe in Imposter Syndrome

‘ll start by saying that I don’t believe in imposter syndrome. When I hear those words, I cringe. And when I listen to them applied to women, I cringe even more. Imposter syndrome is used frequently to describe the self-doubt, uncertainty, and unsureness which can happen to anyone, but is particularly pronounced in professional women because we work within systems and institutions designed for men.

Imposters are fakes, frauds, people who want to fool you into believing they’re something or someone they’re not. Syndrome sounds like we’ve fallen ill and desperately need a fainting couch. Imposter syndrome is used to describe the temporary self-doubt, uncertainty, or insecurity that can come from being the only woman in the room, stepping into something new, and taking risks. Labeling that experience as an “imposter” is, at best, uncompassionate and offensive.

Instead of labeling ourselves as imposters, I’d prefer to look at the emotions and thoughts that come with the experience, because that’s the only way we can take the stigma out of it and debunk it as being wrong.

Navigating a Crisis: Why Your Social Media Matters

get contacted quite a bit to work on crisis communication projects—somehow that has become an area of focus for my company. I didn’t exactly choose it. My teams took on a couple of crisis communication projects that earned some recognition, and then we did some teachings on those case studies. The next thing I knew, crisis was our “thing.”

The truth is, I don’t actually like working on crisis cases. Someone is usually hurt or offended, it’s always stressful, and it’s sometimes sad. None of that is fun. Yet, at the end of the day, there is something to be said for coming alongside a company that is committed to doing the right thing and helping it rise from ashes that may have otherwise choked it out. I’ve found there to be many hard-working people out there putting their hearts and souls into what they do at good businesses doing the best they can. The reward of helping good people salvage good work is always more powerful than whatever stress is caused to me in helping navigate bad situations.

Alas, I remain a contact for crisis counsel.