The outside of the inside

I remember the first time I saw Satya Nadella in person—it was in Washington, D.C. at a hotel where I'd organized a one-hour meeting with him and a dozen CEOs my client's team supported. It was a fitting climax to nod hello and make eye contact with him, though I didn't expect to sit in on the meeting. Instead, I waited outside the conference room making small talk with his plain-clothes security team (who weren't really into small talk).

As I waited I reflected on how much time and effort we'd put into planning that meeting: several months, countless hours. All the meetings and briefing documents and separate conversations. I was only vaguely aware of the meeting purpose, though I knew it had to do with investments, and striking a deal where both sides (Microsoft and their partners) would benefit. Each would make a commitment to the other to drive more revenue. The partners would need to strategize and coordinate among themselves, which was tricky as they also competed with each other. And they'd need to nominate a spokesperson they trusted, and work together.

The team I supported would most likely compete among themselves too, in vying for more investments on behalf of their partners. It was a politically-charged moment with high stakes and I was relieved to stand outside of the room, to be on the outside of the inside.

It was also a relief because the meeting would be over in an hour and then I could stop fretting over it. My client and I had been beside ourselves all weekend trying to get the room right, worrying over every detail. I'd made the mistake of booking the conference room through a portal the Microsoft events team said we had to use for booking meetings but then when I got to D.C. and checked out the room I discovered with horror that it was by no means fit for executives. There were signs of water damage on the ceilings, the room smelled of mildew, and the separator walls were accordion style. I literally lost my shit. The meeting was Monday morning, this was Saturday, and in D.C. no one works on weekends, they're union.

I lost my shit and then had to break the news to my client, and then she lost her shit. Together, we lost our shit all weekend. I lit up the hotel manager with text messages and calls insisting on a room upgrade (The very best one! This is for the MICROSOFT CEO!), on potted plants and floral arrangements and proper lighting and art decor, catering, portable coat racks: everything I knew as a planner I should have thought about months ago but didn't.

Everyone was off for the weekend or not interested, so my client and I fretted and fired off phone calls. And somehow, like it always does, it all came together and the room was just fine. We got the best one they had and doctored it up and when Satya got there no one cared about the room. Something about him glowed.

I could tell the meeting was a success when the doors opened and people spilled out. Successful meetings like that beget other meetings and sure enough, there would be a follow up with the same CEOs and his direct reports I'd coordinate in January. From that meeting would come a project I foolishly offered to lead, but had no business leading, and ultimately could not. Instead, I went on to work for an agency whose CEO I met on that same trip in D.C.: we were both eating alone in a crowded restaurant and decided to sit together. We hit it off, and I liked what he and his company stood for.

Sitting in that restaurant I'll always remember hearing a Talking Heads song play overhead: it was a somber, reflective song called "Heaven" and I remember thinking how odd it must be for artists and musicians to put something into the world that becomes a part of other people's lives in the most random but personal ways.

Like this one in D.C. on a Sunday morning, where everyone was drinking coffee and eating breakfast with that song playing. It made me want to do the same, to connect with people through my writing, and to do something more personally meaningful for my work. In meeting that CEO, I soon switched from project management back over to writing, creating content for marketing and sales teams. And I recommitted myself to paid work that allows me the space to do the other kind of work that's really important to me—writing just for fun, to connect.

Thank you to everyone who's subscribed to this newsletter and sent me notes of encouragement! And for everyone I've had the joy to work with on the inside or outside of our work lives. That connection has meant the most to me.