Every role I have stepped into has come with some version of the same brief: marketing is not working. Fix it. What most organizations don't anticipate is what happens next.

In 1998, businesses were still building the networks, systems, and infrastructure that would make modern work possible. This is the story of the transition that came before the internet changed everything.

In the early 90s, desktop publishing changed more than design workflows. It changed who held power. A firsthand reflection on becoming part of the disruption before understanding what that meant.

The summer I fell in love with graphic design — not on a screen, but by hand, with wax and X-Acto knives and darkroom chemistry — turned out to be my first real lesson in transformation.

AI is being framed as innovation, transformation, and future readiness. After decades in marketing leadership, I am starting to wonder whether we are prepared for what this transition actually costs.

Marketing is expected to be strategic and responsive at the same time, which in practice often turns into everything everywhere all at once. When priorities aren't clear and tradeoffs aren't owned, the work expands, the team stays busy, and real impact gets harder to achieve.

Clarity is not just a communication skill. It is a leadership responsibility. Leaders who do not create clarity cannot expect alignment, focus, or consistent results. They can only expect more noise.

Most companies say marketing is critical. Very few can consistently define what it actually is. When leaders don't define a function clearly, they don't just create confusion—they create instability. Here's why marketing keeps getting this treatment, and what it costs.

Companies talk about transformation constantly. They use the right language, hire for it, frame it as strategy. But when the work starts exposing how the organization actually operates—who owns what, where the handoffs break—you find out quickly whether the mandate was real.

Most companies aren't hiring for marketing leaders right now. They're hiring for the appearance of one. They want performance without authority, outcomes without decisions, and transformation without discomfort. This post names the paradox—and what to do if you're in it.

While you're wrapped in imposter syndrome, wondering if you belong, the people around you are feeling relief. Help has arrived. Most people miss this window entirely. Here's how to use it—including a 30/60/90-day framework built from the interview answers that got you the job.

I've recently started reporting to a manager twenty years younger than me. It works beautifully. But I stumbled into a conversation where a leader defended hiring without regard for experience—and what she described wasn't creativity. It was compliance. Here's why that argument is wrong.

A class action notice—one I qualified for simply by having worked there—reminded me of something I already knew. The old model of leadership, the one built on entitlement and fear, is breaking down. And employees are no longer willing to absorb it silently.

I read Moral Ambition and haven't been able to shake it. I've spent decades helping companies grow—some whose missions I believed in, some I took for the salary. After more than a year out of full-time work, I'm asking a question I used to avoid: what am I growing, and why?

You weren't underqualified. You were invisible to the machine. This week's Workday lawsuit confirms what job seekers have known all along: we were rejected by design.

When I had cancer, some people disappeared. Others surprised me completely. I'm seeing the same pattern now, over a year into unemployment. Public vulnerability is a filter. It changes your relationships, your identity, and your sense of who you are. This is about the ones who stay.

At 29, I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in the middle of a major career transition. It was a hard reset that ultimately taught me the most important lessons of my leadership life—about empathy, self-worth, and the courage to bring your whole self to work.

A seasoned founder called me 'bright' at the close of a brief interview. I wasn't hurt. I was curious. Language is never accidental. 'Bright' is often the word used when someone wants to decline without confrontation—and what it signals about readiness, authority, and who belongs.

I caught my AI intern in a lie last week. A company it described—specific funding round, CEO profile, everything—turned out not to exist. That's not a glitch. That's how large language models work. Here's what hallucinations are, why they happen, and how to catch them before they cost you.

Speed is a founder's greatest asset and greatest liability. When pressure takes over, marketing becomes reactive—producing whatever the business asks for, without the strategy, systems, or authority to connect that work to revenue. Here's what gets missed, and what to build instead.