I smiled. What a wise little girl.
“I remember looking down at her big brown eyes and chubby cheeks, not knowing what to say.”
Lucy seemed to be lost in memories for a moment, before she continued. “And then suddenly, it was as if I was looking down at myself. I recalled asking my parents the exact same question when I was little. I didn’t remember exactly what they said, but I do remember they said something that made me think I never wanted to grow up.”
Lucy took a deep breath, as if she’d just returned from the past.
“And that is when I decided I needed to make a change. If for no other reason than so my daughter wouldn’t grow up thinking that grown-up life was miserable, that work was a drain, and that she—God forbid—had to look and act like a man to succeed.”
“Wow,” I said. Her story gave me goosebumps.
Lucy smiled and leaned back in her chair, sipping her wine.
“And then something really funny happened,” she said.
I leaned forward, drawn deeper into her story.
“The moment I decided to lay off this whole ‘role-playing’ thing, and started showing up as my authentic self, things started going better at work. I relaxed more and was happier. Pretty soon my employees started trusting me more, and I actually ended up being a much better leader than I had ever been.”
Lucy leaned over the table and looked directly at me to make sure I took in this next part. “When I stopped pretending that I was someone or something I wasn’t, when I dared to be myself, to show vulnerability and admit my shortcomings, my team started relating to me in an entirely different way and began supporting me instead of avoiding me, which I felt earlier had been the case.” Lucy laughed and shook her head. “Not that I blame them. The old me wasn’t exactly a charmer.”
We both laughed. I loved her self-deprecating sense of humor.
“That’s such an inspiring story,” I said. “How old is Annabelle now?”
Lucy got a soft look in her eyes.
“Annabelle is twenty-five, happy and wise and pursuing a career in social media, which she loves. It’s also an area I know very little about, which I think was one of the reasons she chose it.”
Lucy beamed. She radiated so much love and pride when she talked about her daughter.
“In fact, we’re meeting up for coffee after this, if you’d like to meet her.”
Lucy gave the waiter a little wave, to signal that she would like the check. She still hadn’t allowed me to pay for any of the lunches, despite my insisting on several occasions.
“Oh, I’d love to meet her, but maybe another time? I’m afraid I have to get back to the office for my 3:00 p.m. meeting.”
Lucy nodded. Once she settled the bill, we put on our coats and said goodbye and agreed to check in again in a month’s time, our usual schedule.
On my way back to the office, I thought how amazing it was to get to know the woman, the mom, and the human being behind the professional façade. I was particularly fascinated to learn that Lucy had also gone through a journey to become who she was today.
It was as if I could hear Josh’s voice inside my head: “Nobody is born a butterfly, you know.”
“No,” I whispered to myself. “We need to be willing to give up being a caterpillar first.”
God, I missed Josh. And everyone else on that island.
…
A few weeks later, I decided to invite everyone to an all-hands meeting and share my vision for the company. I wanted to convey all of the things I had learned from my conversations with the employees as well as our common goals for the coming year.
In the meeting, I told them about some changes we were making, toward more flexible and shorter work hours and that everyone was welcome to work from home when needed, as long as they still were able to deliver on their commitments. The announcement resulted in spontaneous cheers and applause.
Through my many conversations with TechnoGuard employees, I had learned how exhausted they were. Few had a life outside of work, and parents of small children only saw their kids on the weekends, due to the long hours they put in at the office.
I felt guilty, knowing I had been one of the leaders who had set the precedent and expectations that people should work twelve to fourteen hours a day, not once thinking about how this affected their lives, their families, and even their health.
Not only were twelve-hour workdays inhumane, they were a recipe for burnout and depression. And according to research, longer workdays actually made people less effective than if they worked shorter days.
When I announced the changes, most people looked very happy, but quite a few looked puzzled and even confused. Perhaps because they remembered the old me, how I used to speak, and what I used to expect from them.
What had happened? I could see the questions in their eyes.
I hadn’t planned to, but recalling Lucy’s advice about the importance of showing up as oneself, I decided to tell them a bit about what had happened to me. I told them about how stressed I used to be and that I had been diagnosed with “shallow breathing syndrome.” I demonstrated what that looked like, which got a good laugh. When I told them that I had asked for an oxygen pill, they laughed even more.
I also shared what had happened at the conference in Kaua’i. Of course, they had heard and read about it in the news, but I wanted them to hear my version of the story.
I told them I had realized that I had to make a choice about who I wanted to be in that moment. And I added that during my stay in Kaua’i, I had learned to chill and connect with the things that mattered to me, and it was with those things in mind I had returned to TechnoGuard, as their new CEO.
“I want to make a difference, to improve things,” I told the team. “I want to come to work every day and feel happy about what I do and how I do it. And I would like everyone working in this company to feel the same.”
I looked over the crowd. Everyone was listening.
“So, I thought, why not try to make TechnoGuard the best company to work for in our industry, in America—or in the world?! Make it a place we all look forward to coming to in the morning, where we enjoy our work and are inspired to give our best—and do amazing work as a consequence.”
Many were smiling now. “But to do that I will need your help. Together we need to figure out what that looks like and co-create the kind of company culture that will make us the best—and the happiest—team that we possibly can imagine!”
I could tell by the eager looks on people’s faces that they liked what they were hearing.
I drew a deep breath and smiled.
“Are you up for the challenge, Technoguardians?”
The roar from the room, the applause, and the energy of the people jumping to their feet said everything I needed to know.
That day when I left the office, I felt better than I had in a long time. I knew I was making a difference, not only for the company, but also in people’s lives.
As I walked through Central Park, smiling at a group of kids chasing each other in the grass, I picked up my phone and texted Lisa.
“There in 5. Order us a bottle of Prosecco. I feel like celebrating!”
…
Nine months after I embarked on my new role, TechnoGuard was starting to look and feel like a very different company. There was a new and positive energy in the office that could be seen and felt. Where people used to sit inside their cubicles with glazed eyes and hardly communicate, they were now talking, laughing, discussing, and working together as teams in the open collaboration spaces.
The employees were visibly happier, and the sales results were steadily growing. We still had a long way to go—after all, we had started way below zero—but things were definitely heading in the right direction.
Determined to walk the talk, I rarely arrived in the office before 8:30 a.m. and tried to leave around five or six in the afternoon. I also avoided sending emails in the evening and on weekends, unless they were time cr
itical. I knew whatever example I set would be mirrored by others.
The first time I showed up at Lisa’s yoga class, she looked like she was about to faint. But when I continued coming on a regular basis, she was beyond thrilled. After all, I had been her hopeless, unresolved case for so many years.
It felt good to practice with her. It kept my body in shape, but most importantly, it reminded me of the importance of breathing. And I loved the end of the classes, just lying still on the mat and going to our happy place. I always went back to Kaua’i, to the beach, overlooking the ocean and Bali Ha’i.
I had called George five or six times since my return to New York. It was always good to hear his voice. It was strange, though, thinking about him sitting in his beach chair every morning, drinking his morning coffee from the cups William had made him and Aimee. I wondered whether anyone else had been served coffee from Aimee’s cup. I felt a sting in my heart every time I thought about those magical mornings. They felt so far away. Almost as if they had never really happened.
“Why don’t you give William a call? I know he would love to speak with you,” George said almost every time we spoke. I told George that I would, but somehow I could never bring myself to actually do it. Somewhere deep inside I knew I still wasn’t ready to hear his voice.
William had texted me now and then, asking how I was doing and how I enjoyed my new job. I had been a bit slow with my replies but had eventually answered him in a nice and friendly way, but without inviting dialogue. After a while, the texts stopped coming.
Then one day, on my way home from work, I got a text from him.
“Hey, Maya. I’m in New York. I’d love to see you. Dinner tomorrow? William.”
My heart started beating like crazy, and my hands were shaking as I called Lisa right in the cab and read her the text.
“What do you think it means?” she asked.
“I have no idea. He probably just wants to say hi and catch up. After all, we are friends. Or were. At least I think we were …”
“But the ‘I’d love to see you over dinner’ part kind of insinuates something else, doesn’t it?” Lisa loved playing Nancy Drew. “Maybe he’s finished with Ms. Supermodel and wants to be with the true love of his life,” she suggested.
I was reluctant to entertain any of Lisa’s theories. “I don’t know what to say or do, Lisa. I don’t want to be rude and say no, but I don’t know if I can handle seeing him.”
“But what if, Maya? What if he is free now? Maybe he wants you as much as you want him. Wouldn’t you want to know?”
I didn’t want to go there, but Lisa ignited a little spark of hope in my heart with those questions.
I was quiet, so Lisa added, “Listen, Maya. I know how painful this whole William thing has been for you.” Her voice was filled with empathy. It was as if she could feel my pain and fear and frustration. She always had. “Give it a chance, Maya. Meet him. What have you got to lose?”
I let out a deep sigh. “OK, OK,” I said. “I’ll do it.”
Lisa was thrilled, and before we hung up, I promised to fill her in on the details later.
As the cab made its way up Sixth Avenue, I texted William back: “Great! Dinner tomorrow sounds nice. When and where? Maya.”
That night I hardly slept. I kept checking my phone, but there were no new texts from William. Memories of him and me flashed through my mind, memories I had fought so hard to keep away. The conversations we’d had, the laughter we’d shared, the gazing at the stars, the dancing at the farmers market, the bodysurfing lessons, the unsaid that always lingered between us, the feeling of possibilities, of something magical, yet to be explored.
The next morning at work I was unfocused and nervous. Ruth asked me what was up, but I didn’t feel like going into any of this with her, so I just told her that I hadn’t slept well, and she seemed content with that explanation. The truth is, I didn’t know what to think, feel, or expect about an evening out with William. It felt strange being equally filled with hope and dread.
“Friends, Maya, friends,” the familiar voice kept telling me. But beneath that voice, another one whispered softly, “But what if …”
Around lunchtime, the text I had been waiting for finally arrived. “Osteria La Locanda, Soho, 7:30?”
I smiled, remembering how much he loved Italian food.
“Perfetto!” I texted back. And suddenly the butterflies, which had been quiet for so long, started fluttering inside my belly again.
At seven, I was dressed and ready to leave the apartment. I had tried on five different outfits and landed on a simple but classy green dress with matching sandals. It was summer in New York, so why not dress like it? I smiled at my reflection in the mirror.
My phone beeped. My heart skipped a beat when I noticed it was a text from William.
“Hey, Maya! Rebecca is in town too. Hope you don’t mind that she’s joining us. Can’t wait to see you. W.”
I couldn’t decide what was worse: the disappointment or the anger. I let anger win. How could I have been so stupid? Again, I’d listened to the well-intended but naïve advice of a friend and allowed hope to sneak back into my heart. When would I learn?
I kicked off my sandals and went back into the living room, carrying my phone with me. The sun was still shining on Central Park; couples walked hand in hand, children played in the grass. It was a beautiful evening, but I couldn’t see it.
I plopped down on the couch and took a deep breath.
“Sorry, William,” I texted. “Something important came up at work. Have to cancel. Say hello to Rebecca from me and enjoy your dinner. M.”
I unzipped my dress and left it on the floor. I walked into my bedroom, pulled down the blinds, and crawled under the duvet.
And for the first time since the day I returned to New York, I allowed myself to cry.
YEAR TWO
Having spent my first year as CEO making some pretty significant changes, year two was all about creating stability and continuing a healthy growth cycle.
I had hired Adriana Gonzales to oversee the newly established People & Culture team and Josie Becker as our new CFO, both highly accomplished professionals with great personalities. We now had three women on the executive team and were gradually getting closer to my goal of equal representation.
Sales were looking good. Employees and customers were happy, and everything was going really well.
Lucy and I had managed to keep our lunch-buddy schedule intact, and on the one-year anniversary of our first lunch, Lucy invited me to her place.
I was a bit surprised to find out that she lived in a bohemian townhouse in West Village, with climbing roses and a big pink bicycle leaning against the wall. The front door was wide open, and Lucy shouted, “Just come right in, Maya!” when I knocked on the door.
I followed Lucy’s voice and walked through a living room with colorful walls and somewhat quirky furniture pieces that looked like they had been bought in secondhand stores—though I guessed they probably had been carefully selected and cost a bundle.
On the walls were pictures of her daughter and late husband, who had died when Annabelle was a young girl. Lucy hadn’t talked much about him, except that he was the love of her life—and she’d never been able to imagine another man after him.
Lucy gave me a welcoming hug and asked me to sit down by the kitchen table as she finished making our lunch. I was happy to accept the glass of rosé wine she handed me. For once, I had blocked my calendar the entire afternoon and told Ruth I probably wouldn’t be back in the office.
As I watched Lucy prepare our lunch, I sipped my wine and looked out of the open veranda door that led out to a small backyard. The smell of wet earth and grass reminded me of my childhood garden.
“I hope you like quiche, it’s my mom’s recipe.” Lucy smiled as she walked toward me with two plates in her hands, wearing an apron over her denim dress. I noticed she had flour in her hair and was leaving a messy kitchen in her wake.
> I found it utterly refreshing.
The food was delicious and the wine even better. We talked about everyday things and caught up on some of the topics we had discussed the last time.
When we finished eating, Lucy poured me another glass of wine and asked me to capture my first year as CEO in a few words.
I had to think for a moment.
“Difficult. Inspiring. And, nothing like I expected,” I said after a while.
Lucy leaned back in her seat and smiled. “Interesting. Tell me more.”
I took a deep breath. “Well, first of all I hadn’t expected change to be so hard. Making structural changes is one thing, like rebuilding the offices, making some policy changes, reorganizing the teams. But changing people’s mindsets and behaviors—and the way they work together—is something entirely different. Changing culture is hard.”
Lucy nodded. Obviously, she was familiar with the challenge.
“And,” I continued, “it’s one thing to ask others to change, but to change myself and my own old habits was also way more difficult than I’d expected.”
A cool wind came in through the open veranda door. In the distance I could hear sirens. The sound of New York.
“So, what have you done, to change yourself and your old habits?” Lucy asked.
I smiled at her. “Well, talking to you has helped a lot,” I said. “Most of the things we have talked about, I have gone right back and tried to put into practice. And by becoming more self-aware, I have been able to do quite a bit of self-correction along the way.” I took another sip of my wine. I was definitely not going back to the office afterwards.
“Another thing that has helped me a lot is the open dialogue that I initiated early on with the employees, when I asked them to help me become a good leader and let me know when I wasn’t.”
“And have they?” Lucy asked.
I laughed. “Yes, absolutely. One day someone called me on it in an all-hands meeting and wondered whether I knew that the parental philosophy ‘Do as I say, not as I do’ actually doesn’t work. They were referring to the new work-life balance practice I was encouraging, and how someone had caught me sneaking back into the office one evening when I thought everyone had left.”
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