A couple of weeks ago, a client brought a set of notes to our session. She had not written them, she had not been consulted on what was in them, and she was expected to deliver them to her teams right away. She is a director at a tech company, based in the UK and responsible for EMEA operations. The notes set out a reorg that leadership at the US headquarters had decided on without involving her or any of her peers, and the change was taking effect immediately. She was upset.

Every founder I have ever coached on fundraising has, at some point, looked at me and said some version of the same thing: "I had no idea it would be this hard." Not the first time. Not the fifth time. Not even for founders who have done it before and know exactly what is coming. Fundraising is one of those things that looks clean and logical from the outside and feels chaotic and deeply personal from the inside. The TechCrunch announcement is the last paragraph of a very lo

An Honest Guide for Senior Professionals In the last few weeks I have had quite a few conversations with people who have left or are planning on leaving their corporate careers. Former colleagues. Old Google network connections. People who found me through LinkedIn. Prospective clients referred by people I used to work with. They are reaching out because they are standing at a crossroads and they are not sure about which way to go. Some of the profiles are: A Senior Di

Some time ago, my client — let's call him Steve — came to me disappointed, angry, and confused all at once, which is a particular kind of exhausting. Steve is a founder. Sharp, self-aware, genuinely good at what he does. Some of the people he had invested most in — developed, advocated for, stayed late with, comforted when they confided in him about personal issues — had left the company the minute a competitor came calling. Not just left. They brought some of his client book