Planting Seeds

July 12, 2025

Once upon a time in the Driftless, there was a young woman who had recently graduated from college and was taking the first few tentative steps in her chosen career field. In the months since she’d walked across that stage to get her diploma, a beloved member of her class had died suddenly and her own father had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. She had moved back home, both to spend more precious time with Dad and because her two jobs didn’t pay enough for an apartment. Her partner of two years had also recently told her he’d never been interested in a long-term relationship. In short, she was having a great year.

The most recent job she had taken on was something she’d never done before. It was rapidly branching into more and more complexity. Everyone she talked to for help added a new layer of suggestions, bringing their decades of experience to the matter. For perfectly understandable reasons, this woman was overwhelmed. She believed she was letting all these people down by not being able to weave the disparate threads into a finished product. In failing to complete this project, she felt like a failure. She asked her supervisor for a meeting.

The two of them sat down at a coffee shop. No tears were shed, but they gathered in the corners of the woman’s eyes as she explained that she felt stuck and overwhelmed. She had come up with a way to divide the project into smaller pieces and voiced the idea that she only be responsible for one piece. It took all the courage she had left. When she was done, what do you think were the first words out of her supervisor’s mouth?

“You signed a contract.”

He spoke it matter-of-factly but with a bit of an edge, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He went on to say that he didn’t see how splitting up the project would make a difference; what mattered was that she had agreed to do this work. As if only one party – the company itself – had real importance and not this young person who was visibly struggling.

He had the opportunity to mentor a recent graduate, burdened by the weight she was already carrying, with just a few words to tell her that she was safe and things would be okay. But instead, he chose to say that her feelings didn’t matter. 

I’m sure he brought his own issues to the table that day. Most likely, someone said the same thing to him at a critical point in his career. Yet, this only makes it more baffling. This man was (and is) respected in his field, viewed unquestionably as a leader – but he failed to see the person he was leading as a fellow human being.

I didn’t realize until today how deeply that moment affected me. I would spend that whole summer in a kind of prolonged mental breakdown. Not only that, but moments like this also instilled in me the sense that I needed to suppress my needs and emotions if I wanted to be a good member of a team. I’m fortunate now to work with supervisors who welcome a healthy back-and-forth, supporting their employees while reminding us of the duties we owe to one another.

I graduated again this spring, this time from a one-year leadership class. A recurring theme in our sessions was some version of “Be kind; everyone you meet is struggling in ways you will never know.” Please don’t continue the cycle embodied by this man. Be considerate, on purpose.