You Get Some Brains When You Turn 40

I celebrated my 45th birthday in December.

A few years back, my dad gave me some words of wisdom. "You get some brains when you hit 40."?

At the time, it didn't strike me as a light bulb moment, but whenever someone in their 70s gives me advice, I usually keep it in my back pocket. I never thought it would pertain to how I lead my teams, but I've found that it has.

As a younger leader, I didn't give much thought to the lives people led outside the building we all worked in. I expected everyone to be on time, work hard, respect the team, and ask intelligent questions. Anything outside of that I didn't have too much time for. I understood that people had feelings, but I wanted them kept outside my store.

My leader friends felt the same way, so I thought this was normal.

My best friend ran a large retail building with about 100 employees. "I don't keep Kleenex in my office," she told me. "When they run out of sleeve, the meeting is over." Implying that someone crying would not be given a seat in her office for too long.

Retail has never been a home for the warm-and-fuzzy-feelings kinda people.

Decades of Learning How to Lead

In my 20s, I was just trying to figure out where I fit in my chosen profession. I was learning the business and deciding if I was headed in the right direction. The people I led felt more like younger siblings. I would set a good example and hold them accountable, but I wasn't good at coaching or giving difficult feedback.

I didn't have the emotional skill set yet.

In my 30s, I was all about myself. I devoured information to keep my mind sharp, but I focused solely on promotions. What's next for me? ME ME ME. I wanted my leaders to notice how smart I was. I wanted them to see how hard I worked and how dedicated I was.

My goal was to step into the next, higher title. Whatever it was.

I kept my mouth shut; I would never be vocal about how good I was, but I was vocal about wanting to get promoted. I wanted more money, of course, but the title meant more to me than a raise. How ridiculous! As I typed that, I couldn't believe how silly that outlook was, but it was true.

Once I hit my fourth decade, trying to get promoted was no longer my sole focus. Okay, I get promoted, and then what? What is my end goal?

I didn't know, so I stopped looking to the future and focused on the present.

I started to focus on developing the people in my building. I wanted to help them learn and grow. It was no longer about me but the people I led. I became a lot less selfish.

I started to reach out and ask people about their lives instead of only talking about mine. I began to care about what people were studying in their classes and what sport they played. I became a fierce protector and advocate.

The pandemic further instilled this in me and cracked open more empathy.

Recent History

Managing 16 to 23-year-olds can feel like herding cattle sometimes.?

They make the same mistakes every year and sometimes wander off. "What are they doing?" "How come they don't listen?" I ask. Oh yeah, because they are young and new to working. The older I get, the less frustrated this makes me. It's now almost endearing. Almost.

Even a year ago, I did not allow sales associates to text me unless it was an emergency.

"Call the store," I would repeat. I would post memos about it.?

Please do not text your managers; call the store.?

They would oblige until we hired twenty new people, and the sign went up again. Over the past year, I've let a lot of that go. I text sales associates all the time, and they text me. It's usually about stuff they need, like time off.

During the lockdown, it was essential. I wanted the associates to feel like they could still reach out to me even though we would not be at work for a while. A younger me may have had a more fend-for-yourself attitude.

Not so long ago

A 17-year-old associate was trying to get her shifts covered for an impromptu family weekend. It was impossible. We were heading into spring break, restrictions were being lifted, and the store was busy. Despite our best efforts to help, there was no one to cover her.

She finally sent me a text about how stressed out she was trying to cover one last shift. She had managed to get half of it covered, but the other half, she knew, was toast. Her family was headed out for a long weekend, so she had to go.

This was my response:

"There's no one to cover it. We've all tried. Sincerely: Take your family trip. It's no longer worth the worry. We'll make it work; we always do. Enjoy your days off. You work hard & you're dedicated. Slow down & spend time with your family. We'll chalk this one up to bad timing."

I'll tell you why I did that.

• Her work ethic is excellent.
• She picks up shifts all the time. It's a rare occasion that she says no.
• She comes to work happy every day.
• She has genuine conversations with people, and she makes other people happy. Hell, I feel better when she's there.
• Because I'm 45, and I have the emotional bandwidth and years of experience to know that it's not that big of a deal. The floor coverage will be fine.

I knew that she was already making her own life miserable over it, much more than if I had issued her some stupid write-up. So, what's the point in making it even worse for her? I couldn't think of one, so I let it go.

I showed her grace and compassion because the few times I have been granted those things, I have never forgotten them.

"People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." — Maya Angelou

The best leaders I've had in my life embody that. That quote comes from someone with years of life lived.

Issues that typically seem huge to 17-year-olds are very tiny on the grand scale of things — shift changes and whatnot.

Maybe it's existentialism, I don't know. Perhaps it's middle age, but I let the little stuff go.

Hitting 45 didn't feel too much different than 35 or 25, if I'm being honest. However, I'm now more self-aware. I realize I don't have all the answers, and I can more easily recognize when someone needs help.?

I can be honest even if the conversation is difficult. Middle age has allowed me comfort in silence. It has let me focus on my team as individual humans.

I used to think of middle age as a bad word. Middle age? How lame! But you know what? I still feel like me, just way better at handling tough times.?

And there has never been a day when I wished I was any younger.

Dad Wisdom Takeaway

Maybe what my dad meant was that you get some compassion at 40.

You get more empathy. The static of your mind begins to quiet. You can find your radio frequency a bit more easily. You can help others tune in to the right station for them, and all that outside noise begins to fade away.

Suppose I am lucky enough to hit 75, like my dad. In that case, hopefully, compassion and empathy will be skills I can continue to access more often and more easily.

It should be pretty cool.

I will be able to dole out life advice, and someone will pass it on and say, "This cool old lady told me that."

Damn, right I did.

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Kit Campoy?is a freelance writer based in Southern California. She covers Web3, travel, leadership, retail, writing, and more. She also writes personal essays on?Medium.?Connect with Kit on?LinkedIn,?DeSo, and?Twitter. Give yourself a break, and join her weekly?newsletter.