Barely Treading Water

Carolyn, my chief of staff, sat on the couch as I ran into my office. The Palo Alto building wasn’t built for tech; it’d been adapted to support the use case over the years. My office was in the center of the building, which had an inner atrium. Way too many windows. Maybe a salon? Great light. We arranged the furniture for 1:1s. A comfy brown couch, a captain’s chair, and a table with a plant that I enjoyed keeping alive. I was running late because the prior meeting ran long, and I had a mere five minutes before the next. Her normal high energy was subdued. Her feet were crossed, and her ever-present legal notepad was nowhere to be seen. This is bad news, I thought. “I have bad news,” she said. I collapsed into the leather captain’s chair. “OK, spill. Beer bash was last night, and… someone’s in jail? Someone quit? Food poisoning in the cafeteria? Maybe it’s…” “It’s you.” Quick readout on my professional report card before I explain how I was failing. The company was growing. We were…