Best Story

I remember being in my 20s, working in Boston. Life was fast, work was busy, and then—out of nowhere—my appendix decided to stage a rebellion.

One night, I was rushed to the hospital. This was pre-cell phone days, so once I got there—midnight, in pain, hooked up to an IV—I found a hospital phone, left a message for my boss, and figured, "Okay, at least they’ll know."

That was Thursday night.

Fast forward to the next Friday. A whole week later. I called HR to check on my timesheet since I’d been out on sick leave. The guy on the other end of the line sounded confused.

"Wait—you haven’t been here?"

"No. I was in the hospital! I haven't been in all week."

Silence. Then:

"Oh. Amy never mentioned anything. Let me check."

Turns out, my boss—who had so many voicemails that they overwhelmed her—just took a Post-it note and covered the blinking red light on her phone. Problem solved.

So there I was—gone for six days—and nobody noticed.

When I finally spoke up, devastated, they shrugged and said, “Oh, we just assumed you were working from home.”

Nobody checked.
Nobody asked.
I could have been dead.

And that moment stuck with me.

Because here’s the thing—workplaces should be places where people notice. Where people care. Where leadership isn’t just about deadlines and deliverables but about people.

Compassionate leadership isn’t complicated. It’s checking in. It’s noticing. It’s making sure the people who show up every day don’t feel invisible when they suddenly don’t.

Because at the end of the day, the best workplaces aren’t the ones where you can disappear for a week and no one notices. They’re the ones where, if you’re gone for even a day, someone reaches out and says—

"Hey, we missed you. Are you okay?"

Origin Story

In the spring of 2019, my job was eliminated. I was hit with a wave of emotions—devastation and relief, fear and possibility, all at once.

But once the shock wore off, I realized something: this wasn’t an ending. It was the push I needed to take my side gig as a speaker, consultant, and coach to the next level. And I’ve never looked back.

Of course, this was just one of the many squiggles in my career and life that shaped who I am today. I spent the first six months of my life in foster care. I’ve felt lost in my career. I’ve navigated the ups and downs of divorce and remarriage. I’ve walked the challenging but deeply rewarding path of parenting a child with complex medical needs.

Nothing about my journey has been linear—but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Because the twists and turns, the setbacks and pivots, the unexpected moments—they don’t derail us. They define us.

And now, I help others embrace their own squiggles—whether in leadership, career transitions, or personal growth—so they can turn uncertainty into opportunity and show up as their best, most authentic selves.