Topic
- Brand Safety
The impact of grief can knock you off your feet and engulf you like a rogue wave. As if that wasn’t bad enough, you carry on with your daily life believing the sadness has passed, only to have it reappear like a spider monkey 199 times repeatedly. Needless to say, 2023 was quite the edifying year and “journey” for me.
During one of our weekly check-in meetings, I sat in my CEO’s office mascara smeared across my face, snot and tears on my cheeks (not the first time) as I said, “Meredi, what meant the most to me is that you didn’t try to fix me, tell me that everything was going to be alright because you knew that’s not what I needed. Instead, you showed up and waded in the treacherous waters with me during one of the most challenging times of my life. I will never forget that.”
From the moment I exited the elevator on the 14th floor back in the spring, I knew this was where I belonged. The agency was energetic, full of talented individuals, and their fiery passion was contagious. Vladimir Jones is an advertising agency that is 100% owned and led by women, and has been for six decades. When they called to offer me the position, I was ecstatic and overwhelmingly grateful. These are my people. This was my next exciting chapter, let’s go!
Having a solid 7 weeks under my belt (basically a veteran), I walked into my office, looked at the beautiful view of Pikes Peak, and suddenly discovered blood all over my pants. I swiftly shut my office door and sat at my desk, astonished as the realization of what was happening took over. I was 11 weeks pregnant and I was having a miscarriage at work. I remember trying to boost myself up to walk to the President’s office as the uncontrollable flood of tears started again. I made an effort to get myself together, telling myself, ‘Come on, get your shit together Amanda, you can do this.’ It felt like all was crashing down, I was an expecting mother and in a matter of minutes I was stripped of that title. Everything had changed.
I was relieved to see our President’s office door open, she was diligently working at her desk. Trying to be stealthy I slipped in, shut the door, and asked if she could talk for a few minutes. I barely got the word “few” out and I was crying again. “I think I’m having a miscarriage, I’m 11 weeks pregnant and I just spoke to my doctor… I need to go to the ER.” Without saying a word, Debbie got up from her desk and hugged me as I stood frozen in shock like someone who had just received a hug for the first time in their life (I promise my parents did in fact hold me as a child). She offered to drive me to the emergency room, but my fiancé was already en route. She offered to give me a jacket to cover my pants, but I had it covered. In one of my deepest moments of pain, she offered a place and space so I could grieve and just be. I replay that moment a lot in my head, it was like life was in slo-mo.
Here’s why I’m sharing this story. The inherently flawed nature of humans makes no workplace or business perfect. I’ve worked for large companies, small companies, and in international sport, and I have never been so genuinely cared for as I have with Vladimir Jones. When life gets gritty, raw and painful, I hope you have leaders whose compassion, empathy and bad-assery gives you a reason to get back in that arena when you are face down covered in snot, tears and mascara. And leaders, should you attend to the emotional and human nature of those you lead, you may be surprised to see how they attend to the nature of the work and those around them. Brené Brown said it perfectly, “I think the people who wade into discomfort and vulnerability and tell the truth about their stories are the real badasses in this world.” We need more of those… more total badasses.
