Dear Michelle,
You may not remember this but it was just my second day in the Pittsburgh office. Within this letter is a story about odds. I am not sure that anyone actually beats them, they negotiate with them, and they sacrifice something great for the appearance of getting the better of it. This is how you helped me negotiate with my odds.
To understand the significance of the day in question, you have to understand my previous years. They were good ones: first at Uncrate and then leadership at Gear Patrol. My time at GP was especially great, I met one of my best friends and collaborators there. From the work to the relationships in the tightly-packed West 30th office was effortless and drama-free. The founders, Ben and Eric, were solid. It was about the work and only the work. I had autonomy and we did some great things while I was there. The weekly commute to West 30th Street in NYC was a joy. I loved being in the office from 9 am to 9 pm. I had beaten back the devil and finally moved on. It was hard to leave New York.
Your company made it worth it. Cotton Bureau was a young, burgeoning eCommerce startup. At the time, few merchandising companies were moving more volume than Cotton Bureau had for media brands like Pod Save America. I loved your lead investor, Bryce, and I deeply respected the core team of Jay, Nate, Matt, and you. I was happy to just be a number with a key role.
Then, the very first day, your husband and business partner called me into one of the breakout rooms at what was a gorgeous morning in Pittsburgh. Someone called them and told them that I should be fired because of my Academy history. I’m still not sure how that was possible given that few, if anyone, knew I’d accepted the role. This happened years before, first at Houston’s Lanier Law Firm and then at Rogue. In my experience, it’s a coin flip in how it’s handled.
It was my first morning in Pittsburgh, I’d driven three hours and some change to be in the office by 9 am and I’d never been more excited to move forward in my life. Just the day before, Jay and Nate were on Twitter begging me to join the Slack group. Before I had a chance to adjust my new chair: Nate, Jay, and I went on a long walk through the East Liberty area to discuss my employment. I was quietly at my wits end but they probably couldn’t see it. They decided to let me get back to work but, to stay, I had to speak before every woman and man at the company and answer questions about my past.
Then, your husband said something that stopped me in my tracks, “Are you prepared for public backlash if you worked here?” I honestly couldn’t comprehend this at the time. I thought I’d left public backlash in college.
Few empathize with a wind-blasted adobe home because that’s what it’s there to be.
I said, “No? Probably not ready for it.” We walked back into the office and wouldn’t you know, Twitter was afire and what seemed like dozens of Cotton Bureau fans wanted my head. It was almost like it was coordinated. I’d faced a lot in my life but that day was especially painful because they didn’t know me or even 10% of my story. They knew the headlines that the internet trolls often used against me. And I won’t lie, the moment made it feel as though there would never be anything that I could do to outlast it. When you feel that you are in a valley, you expect rejection and the rest. But I wasn’t in a valley at that point in my life. Things are going well, really well! I was on a streak so the slightest slide felt like a complete catastrophe. I thought that I was done with the pangs of my past, that day was a reminder that I never would be.
There’s this thing about me that few understand. I have a stoic face, I am taller, I am heavier, and I give the impression that little bothers me. No matter what, I cannot seem to get people to understand that my exterior and interior aren’t one and the same. “Who will cry for the little boy?” as the poem went. That exterior of mine is like a wind-blasted adobe home. It’s not nearly as strong as concrete but with enough time and avoidance of the elements, it can be.
The moment came and went and I visibly survived it but few others in the office could see the deep psychological effect it had on me. I just wanted to work, support our girls, and go to sleep. It’s actually a luxury that most don’t realize, it’s up there with clean, running water.
Your husband and his cofounder asked me to stay in town for a few extra days and then address the entire company. And I did what they asked of me. As per usual when I recount what is my deepest pain, for an audience, it breaks me in ways that few can imagine.
The problem with my circumstances is that in the media or within the blogs, where the majority of the tales are recorded, nothing explains why the experience was traumatic in the first place. If you go through something that you deserve, you can stomach it. I still can’t find a way to stomach it. People will never fully know what happened behind military walls or within solitary rooms. They won’t understand that between all those years of tweets about optimism and small successes and fatherhood and joy and overcoming, my family was twice-evicted or opportunities were dashed or bank accounts were zeroed or cars were pulled over for no reason. I was face down on the Ohio pavement a number of times, just because they could.
Few empathize with a wind-blasted adobe home because that’s what it’s there to be. They look strong enough and they are built for hot-aired, desert winds. Few see the cracks, the weakened areas of clay, and the vulnerable areas that result.
So, after I finished with the meeting, I walked into the bathroom and I just cried. If that bathroom’s Sonos could listen back, it would have heard me say, “Again?” I doused my eyes with the Visine that I keep for occasions like that. I sat at my desk and worked to develop my first partnership like wind-blasted adobe.
In the moment of that day, I forgot about 12 hours and 12 years before.
I owe Nate and Jay thank you’s for letting me stay onboard, I wrote to them too. I continued that day and onward as a shell of myself, no great wins could have changed that, not what we did with: Desus & Mero, MKBHD, Gary, Arlan, ESPN’s 30 for 30, Adam Savage, or anyone else.
The same day as that 9:30 AM conversation in the conference room, Caitlin and you took me to a late movie. We laughed hysterically and we drank beer and shame gave way to a bit of acceptance. In the moment of that day, I forgot about 12 hours and 12 years before. I went back to whatever hotel that I lived out of and I slept soundly. Of all the people who could have seen through the wind-blasted exterior, you did.
I never told you thank you.
I never shared my vulnerability much with anyone after that but I wish that I had. I wish that I gave even more than I did to that place, for you and Nate and Jay and the rest. I wish that everyone was still there and the conversion rates still hovered past 9% on some days. You all did everything right, you did everything ethically. It was a good company.
You didn’t have to take me under your wing but please know that it did more than you may believe. You were like a big sister to me, whether you realized it or not. Maybe it was because you saw a little bit of yourself in our daughters or something greater but your empathy contributed to their lives.
The appreciation that I had for you was far greater than you knew. It wasn’t just because of your instinct to mend the brokenness that others couldn’t see. It was also because I envied your operational ability. You were the smartest and most capable in the company and I wanted to accomplish what you would have in my role.
Thank you for looking beyond the wind-blasted exterior. Thank you for seeing the cracks, the damp clay, and the shoddy masonry in certain areas. I just wanted to work, succeed, and live a normal life. Because of you, that was possible for the few years that it was.
Give my best to your family and all of those who joined me in that office. I haven’t worked for anyone since then. That day, I chose to go all-in on what I wanted to build for myself. The decision to go out on my own was not an easy one, it just sorta happened. I traded one great risk for another and for good reason: because not every conference room has a Michelle.
The ones that do should consider themselves fortunate, I sure was.
Lesson: one simple gesture can have a compounding effect.
My best,
Web