here is a lot of talk about how most companies will go “totally virtual” after the pandemic. I think this is a huge mistake.

Don’t get me wrong. I run Sherpa Digital Media. We do virtual events and video streaming for a living. The pandemic has been absolutely stellar for our business. In 2020, we did more than 11,000 virtual events, which was well over three times what we did in 2019. Working from home, using remote teams, hosting virtual events—all of this is good for us. But we also realize that we need to make virtual events and video streaming a lot more engaging so people can connect with each other.

he economic recession in the early 1990s resulted in a significant decrease in government funding for scientific research in Canada. Little did I realize then just how that particular federal budget would launch the trajectory of my career into unanticipated and uncharted territory. In 1991, half-way through my doctoral studies in physiology, I was the graduate student representative to the department’s faculty council when dismay at the budget cuts moved quickly through the research community. It was a wake-up call that the ivory tower elitist image of science was not serving the public or researchers and needed to change. It was especially fortuitous for me to be in that place at that time; I was in grad studies having twice failed in my application to dental school (it turns out that I have rather poor spacial acuity).

Fast forward to today and this summer marks the 30-year anniversary of the small volunteer outreach project I launched with a handful of graduate students at Western University in London, Ontario, to engage youth with scientists. That project became Let’s Talk Science, an award-winning national education charity that has impacted an estimated 10 million people through programming designed to help youth prepare for future careers and citizenship roles through STEM (science, technology, engineering and math) engagement. This milestone offers an interesting vantage point to reflect on what has changed, what still must change, and how I have changed during my leadership journey.

OVID-19: I never believed in a doomsday scenario, but I knew that my daily life as a chef, father, cookbook author and TV personality would be impacted greatly for the next two to three years.

As the COVID-19 crisis engulfed the world, my first cookbook, Baking with Bruno, was just being released in Canada and the United States. The timing to launch such an endeavor couldn’t have been worse. A cookbook project takes about three years from start to finish, and I was so excited to see my recipes hit bookstore shelves. As the pandemic began to worsen, my excitement quickly died as I received dozens of emails cancelling all the events planned for the launch. No more book signing events, no more cooking demos. Forecasts for book sales and any anticipated royalties derived from the book were slashed by 70 percent. It quickly became apparent that survival meant I would have to adapt my plans and goals to meet and adjust to a multitude of new circumstances. The ability to do so would mean the difference between success and scrapping all the efforts to date.

have been a licensed psychologist and clinically focused researcher for more than 20 years and have spent the last 10 years working to bridge the gap between those who need alcohol addiction treatment and those who receive it. Of course, I am aware of the statistics around this issue; only about 10 percent of people who meet the criteria for an alcohol use disorder receive any type of help, whether it be through Alcoholics Anonymous, in-person counseling or an online group like Moderation Management. But what motivated me to pursue this problem was not the statistics, but the reaction I have frequently heard when talking to someone (client, friend, family member) about their problem drinking and the need to seek help. A typical conversation goes like this: “Sounds like your drinking is getting a little out of control. Have you considered getting some help?” “Oh no, I am not that bad,” or “I could never get up in front of a group of people and admit I am an alcoholic,” or “If it really gets out of control, maybe I will, but I am not there yet.”

The issue this brings up, by and large, is stigma. Most people harbor beliefs that people with an alcohol problem are somehow failing in their lives, that getting help means they are some sort of “addict” and that overall it is shameful to need this type of help. In addition, many people have difficulty finding the time to go to a counselor’s office, and it is often prohibitively expensive. All of which help explain why we miss so many people in need. The frustrating thing for me in this dynamic is that we know a lot about how to help people either cut back or stop drinking altogether. The treatment strategies work, but they certainly will not if people don’t use them. I don’t in any way blame people with an alcohol problem for not availing themselves of treatment. As a group, psychologists have not been particularly flexible and responsive to the consumers of services having needs and interests that do not fit well with traditional office-based treatment. Like many professions, we have been somewhat “paradigm-bound,” stuck in delivering services in-person, in 50-minute hours, for $150/hour or nothing.

rowing up, my two hard-working and humble parents taught me I could be anything I wanted to be if I worked hard and remained kind, positive, caring and generous. As a preschool teacher, my mom taught these values to dozens of children. They were the foundation upon which I built my life—and they’ve guided me throughout my career in communications and public relations.

It wasn’t until I was invited to keynote the Boise State Public Relations Student Society of America (PRSSA) 2018 regional conference, however, that I distilled these values into my five personal lessons for leadership and life, my own personal code: Engage. Attract. Inquire. Give Back. Inspire.