Lauren Howard on LinkedIn: I sat on my office floor in a ball as tears streamed down my face. My… | 48 comments (2024)

Big dogs aren’t safe with little kids, they said. Me thinks they were wrong.

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When it’s your dad’s 86th birthday and you miss him bigger than the whole sky, you drop everything on a Friday afternoon to go sit in his favorite spot at his favorite place with your kids who would be his favorite people. Happy birthday, Old Guy. I hope the Egg Fu Young is plentiful. We’re doing our best down here.

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“UGH. This is so stupid. There are easily ten better ways to do this.”I was maybe 16 years old and fighting with a pre-calculus problem while sitting at the kitchen table. My dad was nearby in his recliner with his feet up, watching something on television. “What are you working on?”“Precalculus,” I responded. “And it’s all really stupid. I have no idea why they tell us to do it this way and require us to show the work this way when there are easier, better ways to do it that they don’t teach.”“Yeah. That’s because you weren’t supposed to be here.”I had literally no idea what he was talking about. That happened more than occasionally. He caught on to my confusion and decided to do me the favor of enlightening me further. “We teach to the male brain. You don’t have one of those. The teaching styles that we continue to use were built for male students and not female ones. It’s why you look at things and see them differently than the textbooks give you leeway for.""The funny part is that studies show that if we teach to the female brain, everyone learns better, but that would mean admitting things about women that the guys in charge aren’t ready to do yet. They may never be ready to say them. You’re going to be tasked with either doing things their way and being annoyed or figuring out your own way and doing it right.”It was one of the rare situations where I didn’t have much to say in response. It felt overwhelming to me. “So everything is just going to be harder because I’m a girl?” He didn’t exactly confirm it, but he did support it. “At first. But then you’ll figure out the better way to do it and hopefully start fixing things for everyone. Remember, your brain makes things better for everyone. We need the workarounds that you come up with. They will save us all.”My dad would have been 86 today. He got 78 years earthside, and has been pretty terrible about returning my calls since. Rude. I miss him so much that I wrote a whole book about him. I pulled this directly from that book because I can't think of a better way to explain what it was like with him in this world and what life has been like without him.He wasn't scared to give a harsh dose of reality, but he was always on the other side with a snack, a wisecrack and a shot of encouragement. Happy birthday wherever you are, Larry B. You are 87 percent of the reason why I get to be who I am today, and you are 100 percent the inspiration of everything gigantic we have in the works. I hope you're proud. Also, like, we buried you with your phone so wtf, man?

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I was demoted. At least, I think I was? I wasn’t sure. They didn’t say I was, but it sure felt like I had been. Maybe the only thing more unsettling than being demoted outright is being pretty sure that it happened while everyone around you says otherwise. No one used those words. In fact, they all seemed really excited about it. They wanted ME to be excited about it. But I didn’t feel excited. I felt like after years of doing the work of ten people without asking for a thing, my reward was to get a new boss who knocked me down the org chart a peg or ten. It was presented to me as an exciting new structure for the company. We were growing, and now I would report to someone new thanks to all the growth that I had fostered. Isn’t that great? Um, is it? I don’t know if I would call that great. Am I misunderstanding something? How is this great for me? Yesterday, I reported to the CEO. Today I reported to the guy who reports to the CEO. It ran in my head on repeat. This is wrong, right?I was so shocked by the news that I just said something akin to “Oh. Okay.” in the meeting and left as quickly as possible. Part of me thought I must have misunderstood, and I just needed time to replay it and figure out what they really meant. They couldn’t have just…. Could they? Not to the only female executive in the company? Not to the person who had worked to her detriment for so long?After a day, I got the courage and clarity to say that I didn’t feel that this was right and I wasn’t okay with it. I said it directly to my new boss.Then the narrative started forming. It was unreasonable for me to feel anything other than grateful. I wasn’t being a team player. This was good for the company so it was good for me. This wasn’t about me. I was just being selfish. Why are you so negative?In hindsight, I see it for what it was— a master class in corporate gaslighting. At the time, I accepted the company lineafter squashing my feelings because I was convinced that it had to be me. If everyone around me was fine with this, I must be the problem. Years later, I know different. Your gut doesn’t lie to you. If it feels like something is wrong, it’s probably wrong. Toxic organizations are invested in your isolation because it’s easier to make you the problem that it is to fix what’s rotten. Turns out that in those companies, the only reward for going above and beyond is more work. You’re not crazy. They’re lying.

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I offered a someone a job on the spot today. I only knew her first name.It wasn’t even an interview.She called me from an agency that we work with and let me know that there was a problem with the paperwork I had submitted. I explained to her that I had done the forms 20 times before and had never had this problem. She was direct, matter of fact and talked a mile a minute. I loved it. She said that there were some rule changes and updates on enforcement, and while they were correct for before, they aren’t now. Then she told me how to fix them, gave me the resources for the rule changes, and gave me the exact wording to use on the updates. She walked me through line by line and verified that I understood. She had all the answers to my questions on very, very complex things that almost no one understands. I’m usually the one teaching people how to get them right and what the process is if they get them wrong. She was the first I’ve met who knows the process better than I do. I love people who know things better than I do. We were talking about how I have spoken with so many people from her agency and can’t get the same answer twice. She said that it’s a huge problem because the company that staffs them is changing making training nearly impossible, and she thinks she will be out of a job in the next few months. I wasted no time. “That email address you just read back to me? It’s also where you can send a resume. I need someone like you.” She stammered. “Wait, really? I have been applying to credentialing companies without a single response. I don’t think anyone is hiring for my skills.”“I’m always hiring for your skills.” I don’t need 45 interviews and a blood sample to know she can do the job. She showed me she can do the job in less than 5 minutes. She knows things I don’t. That will make all of us better. It really can be that simple.

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I wear leggings every single day. I don't remember the last in-person meeting that I went to. I don't even have most of my business clothing anymore because it was untouched in my closet for so long. I leave my house, like, once a week, and it’s usually to get takeout.I have a pretty big potty mouth, and I speak fluent sarcasm. I have a bust of Ron Burgundy on my desk with figures of all of The Golden Girls. My office walls feature a picture of RBG, a West Wing quote and a line from Hey Jude. I dream of having purple hair. I hire people that I have known for a few hours because I can just tell that they’re the right person for the job. Sometimes I work with a child on my lap or under my feet. Sometimes with a dog on my toes. Sometimes while jamming to a 90s boy band playlist. I am as self-deprecating and disarming with clients as I am with friends. It’s kind of my thing.I am all of those quirky things, and I am still professional. Are you capable of doing the job? Do you get the job done? Do you center kindness and effectiveness in your communication with others?Congratulations. You’re professional. I don’t care what color your hair is or how pressed your clothes are or how high brow your musical tastes are. If you do the work well, you’re a professional. If you center empathy and kindness with your ability to do the work well, you're professional.We’re done believing that you need a suit, tie, shiny shoes, boring briefcase, monotone delivery and slicked back hair to be professional.Strict dress codes (for anything other than safety) and the like are inherently designed to disenfranchise people who aren’t 45-year-old, rich, whiite males. We’re not here for that. Don't wear flip flops in a professional kitchen, but I could not care less what you wear to an office. Or if you go to an office.Show me that you know what you’re doing. That’s literally all I care about.

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I had so many stupid excuses.I was full of them.I’ll be happier when when I get the next promotion.I’ll feel satisfied once we have enough in our savings.I’ll spend more time with friends once I can fit into my pre-pregnancy clothes.In the last few years I've learned something really important.If you treat happiness like a destination, you will absolutely never get there.For a lot of years, happiness wasn’t even on my roadmap. It was something that other people felt. I thought grinding, earning as the sole focus and forgoing self-care were the keys to achieving.Goals and aspirations are part of the process, but satisfaction is not transactional. There is no “achievement unlocked” announcement that tells you when you’re there.That doesn’t mean you should be fine with having less than you deserve. It doesn’t mean you can just turn on happiness and contentment. I’m not saying that you should stay in a toxic environment or be abused because you should be able to feel happy anywhere.But you can’t just earn your way there, either.You can earn your way to security. You can promote your way to the kind of resume that gets you credibility in your field. You can use your earnings to introduce convenience into your life, which yields contentment and reduces stress.But there is no salary that makes you satisfied with who is in the mirror. There is no physical appearance change that automatically makes you feel like you love yourself and want to be more of this person.Self-care, giving back, finding community, turning off and resting are all important pieces of the puzzle.You can’t hustle yourself there. There’s no trophy at the end. There is just a bunch of empty things that are supposed to make you happy and just don’t.Satisfaction is a function of balance, not a guaranteed outcome of a title or a bank account or a funding raise.

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What did you want to be when you grew up?

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What even is professional? Talking about chronic illness is professional.Talking about women’s rights is professional.Talking about workplace equity is professional.Talking about maternal mortality is professional.Talking about trauma is professional.Talking about antiracsm is professional.Talking about authenticity is professional.Talking about bias, unconscious or otherwise, is professional.Talking about marginalization is professional.Talking about harmful patriarchal structures is professional.It’s a pretty safe bet that if you don’t think “controversial” topics like those should be discussed on a “professional” platform, that you’re benefitting from the current system in some way.Showing up wholly who you are with what you’ve experienced and what you’re dedicated to change is professional. Full stop.If you’re uncomfortable with people doing that in your professional spaces, you might need to take a look at why it threatens you. What are those conversations going to cost you? And did you earn those things to begin with?You’re dmn right this isn’t Facebook. Now let’s do the work.

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