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More than half of Gen Z workers say they do not want to be managers.

Early in my career, I remember watching an exceptionally capable employee remain silent during an important meeting.

Family is the word we reach for when we want to signal that people matter. That there is genuine care. That someone will show up for you beyond the transaction of employment.

One afternoon not long ago, I closed my laptop between meetings to help my child prepare for something that felt enormous in their world and ordinary in mine, a school moment that could not be rescheduled.

I did not realize until much later in my career how lucky I had been.

I have sat in many meetings where leaders sincerely asked how do we help people feel like they belong here.

I grew up learning how to be invisible when invisibility was safer.

Almost every organization I have worked with genuinely wants to understand how employees are feeling. So engagement surveys are launched with thoughtful intent. Leaders encourage participation. Communications emphasize honesty. People are told their voices matter and that feedback will shape the future of the workplace.

Not long ago, a senior leader said something to me with surprising honesty: the leadership skills that got me here are not working the same way anymore.

The 40-hour work week was designed for a world that no longer exists. And we have never seriously redesigned it.

I have sat in more calibration meetings than I can count. Thoughtful leaders gather with their initial rankings, often with genuine care for the people being discussed. The conversations are measured and professional. Cases are made thoughtfully. Managers advocate for their teams. Adjustments are debated carefully, sometimes down to the smallest distinctions.

At least in the Hunger Games, the tributes knew the rules.

Over the years, I have participated in countless promotional discussions. Most began the same way: thoughtful leaders gathered around a table, committed to making fair decisions. Performance histories were reviewed, achievements discussed, and potential debated with genuine seriousness. No one entered those conversations intending unfairness.

There is a familiar narrative repeated in leadership meetings, performance reviews, and offhand conversations in break rooms across industries.

People decide whether it is safe to speak based on what happens to the last person who did.

Over more than three decades in leadership, I began noticing something that rarely appeared in performance reviews or engagement dashboards. The people organizations relied on most were not always the ones receiving the most recognition. They were the steady individuals who stepped in when work became unclear, when collaboration stalled, or when timelines slipped.

Not long ago, one of my children asked me a question that stayed with me far longer than they likely intended: "Why do adults work so much if they don't seem happy doing it?"

There has always been a lot going on inside my head. Anyone who knows me is probably smiling right now.