Last month, I embarked on what I thought would be a simple project: repainting my home office. After a year of staring at the same beige walls during video calls, I needed a change that would refresh both my space and my mindset.

After researching painters in Winchester VA (where my weekend home is located), I found Brackens Painting through a colleague’s recommendation. What I expected to be a straightforward service call turned into an unexpected lesson in business management.

“Your walls tell a story about your environment,” Kevin Brackens, owner of Brackens Painting, told me during our consultation. “Most people choose colors based on trends, but rarely consider how those colors affect their daily mood and productivity.” This simple observation stopped me in my tracks. How often do we make workplace decisions based on trends rather than their actual impact on our teams?

As Kevin and his team transformed my dreary beige walls into a sophisticated blue-gray, I couldn’t help but draw parallels to the recent redesign of our company headquarters. We’d spent months debating aesthetics, but had anyone asked how the environment would affect our team’s wellbeing?

The renovation process also highlighted something I’ve observed in successful businesses: clear communication prevents complications. When Kevin’s team encountered unexpected water damage behind my bookcase, they immediately presented options rather than making assumptions about my preferences or budget.

By the time my office was complete, I had a list of business insights drawn from watching skilled professionals at work:

1. Expert advice comes from experience, not just credentials
2. The environment we create directly impacts performance
3. Good communication prevents costly misunderstandings
4. Sometimes you need to strip away old layers before you can build something new

Who knew that finding painters in Winchester, VA would lead to rethinking our company’s recent restructuring approach? Sometimes the best business lessons come from unexpected sources.

Until next time, Kay

P.S. I’m writing this from my newly painted office, and yes, my productivity has increased. Kevin was right about the power of environment!

Remember last summer when working from home still felt somewhat novel? Let me take you back to that fateful Tuesday in July when my carefully cultivated professional image quite literally melted down in real-time.

Picture it: I’m presenting quarterly projections to our entire executive team. I’ve strategically positioned my laptop to showcase my tastefully decorated home office (while hiding the laundry pile just out of frame). My hair is done, I’m wearing my power blazer (with sweatpants below, naturally), and I’m absolutely nailing this presentation.

Then it happens. My air conditioner makes a sound that can only be described as “angry robot dying,” followed by complete silence. In Maryland’s July humidity, it takes approximately 87 seconds for a room to transform from “professional environment” to “tropical rainforest.”

By slide seven, I’m visibly sweating. By slide twelve, I’ve abandoned all pretense and am openly fanning myself with a folder. The CFO, bless his heart, finally asks, “Kay, are you okay? You look… dewy.”

Cue me explaining that my HVAC system had chosen this exact moment to stage a rebellion. Our CEO actually laughed and said, “Call my guy in Frederick, MD. Best HVAC service in the area, saved my basement office last summer during that heatwave.”

What followed was a masterclass in professional vulnerability. Instead of pretending everything was fine (my usual move), I acknowledged the situation, made a quick joke about “bringing the heat to these projections,” and continued with my presentation.

Surprisingly, that moment of unplanned authenticity generated more engagement than any perfectly executed presentation I’d given before. Executives shared their own work-from-home disasters (our COO’s cat once knocked over her green screen during an investor call), and suddenly, we were all humans dealing with human problems.

The lessons? First, always have a backup plan for your home office infrastructure (and yes, I did call that HVAC service in Frederick MD, and they were indeed as good as promised). Second, sometimes dropping the professional veneer creates more meaningful connections than maintaining it.

And third? Maybe keep a handheld fan within reach of your desk. Just in case.

Until next time,
Kay

P.S. I now keep the number of that HVAC company saved in my contacts under “Professional Emergency.” Some things are just too important to risk.

Last Tuesday, I arrived at our executive retreat armed with data, presentations, and what my colleague Jake called “the Mary Poppins bag of corporate survival.” This offhand comment stopped me in my tracks. Was my oversized tote really that telling?

Later that evening, as executives gathered for dinner, I found myself studying everyone’s bags with newfound interest. The sleek minimalists with their tiny designer crossbodies. The tech-forward crowd with backpacks featuring dedicated pockets for every device known to mankind. The classic achievers with their monogrammed leather briefcases.

It got me thinking – maybe our work bags are the most honest expression of our professional selves. After all, they hold what we consider essential, reveal our organizational tendencies, and often showcase our practical vs. aspirational selves.

Take my bag: a spacious leather tote with exactly seventeen pockets (yes, I’ve counted). Inside you’ll find emergency snacks, three types of chargers, backup presentations on a flash drive (despite everything being in the cloud), and at least two lipsticks. What does this say about me? I’m prepared for almost any scenario, slightly anxious about technology failures, and apparently believe that the right shade of lipstick can salvage any professional disaster.

Meanwhile, our CFO carries a slim portfolio that holds precisely one notebook and one pen. No wonder he can make decisive budget cuts – the man has mastered the art of eliminating the unnecessary in all aspects of life.

Our head of innovation? Her bag literally expands to three times its size. I’ve watched her pull out everything from prototype samples to international adapters from what initially appears to be a reasonably sized shoulder bag. Her secret? Compartments within compartments – much like how she structures her thinking.

So here’s my theory: our work bags are physical manifestations of how we approach leadership. The over-prepared? Detail-oriented but potentially micromanagers. The minimalists? Decisive but might miss nuance. Those with adaptable bags? Flexible thinkers who can expand their perspective when needed.

What does your work bag say about you? Are you carrying around just what you need, or are you lugging yesterday’s strategies and outdated assumptions too?

Until next time,
Kay

P.S. Since this revelation, I’ve downsized my tote and feel strangely liberated. Turns out I don’t actually need three different types of mints for a single meeting.

So, there I was, in the middle of a quarterly planning meeting, when my phone buzzed with what I thought was a calendar reminder. Instead, it was my meditation app staging an intervention. “We notice you haven’t completed a single meditation session in 47 days, but you’ve opened the app 32 times during work hours. Is everything okay, Kay?”

Let me paint you a picture of my “mindfulness practice”: Downloading every meditation app with a free trial. Setting ambitious goals like “meditate for 20 minutes daily” (ha!). Using the calming background sounds to drown out my noisy open-plan office. And my personal favorite – playing meditation tracks during video calls to seem more zen while simultaneously answering emails.

The breaking point? Last week, during our executive team meeting, I accidentally hit play on a meditation track called “Releasing Workplace Anxiety” instead of muting myself. Nothing says “I’m totally handling this promotion with grace” quite like having a soothing voice ask “Are you feeling overwhelmed?” broadcast to your entire leadership team.

My smart watch has also joined this intervention. Apparently, my heart rate during “meditation” sessions matches my heart rate during presentations. Even technology knows I’m faking it.

But here’s the thing – this wake-up call made me realize something important. We’ve gotten so good at optimizing everything that we’re trying to optimize relaxation. We’re biohacking meditation. We’re measuring our mindfulness in minutes and steps. We’re turning wellness into another task to be conquered.

So, I made a change. I now have actual, phone-free meditation time. Yes, real meditation – not the “let me just check my email while the nice lady talks about breathing” kind. And you know what? It’s terrible. I’m bad at it. My mind wanders. I get fidgety. But that’s kind of the point, isn’t it?

For my fellow overachievers out there: Sometimes the most productive thing you can do is absolutely nothing. And no, scrolling through your meditation app library doesn’t count as nothing.

Until next time, Kay

P.S. I wrote this blog post without checking my phone once. My meditation app would be so proud. If only I could remember my password to log in and check my progress…

Let me tell you about the day I learned that home inspections can turn into wildlife documentaries. After months of house hunting, I’d finally found what I thought was “the one” – a gorgeous Colonial with the perfect home office setup (priorities, right?). Everything was going smoothly until our home inspector made his way into the attic.

Picture this: I’m standing at the bottom of the attic stairs in my perfectly pressed blazer (because of course I scheduled the inspection between client meetings), when I hear what can only be described as a muffled “Oh boy.” Not exactly what you want to hear from your home inspector.

Turns out, a family of raccoons had been running their own startup from my dream home’s attic. We’re talking a full-scale operation: entry point through a loose soffit, insulation transformed into luxury bedding, and what appeared to be a sophisticated food storage system (aka my future attic becoming their personal Costco warehouse).

The best part? The inspector discovered this setup because Mama Raccoon had arranged the insulation into what he called “the most organized nest he’d seen in 20 years of inspections.” Leave it to me to find a house with Type-A raccoons who probably had a better filing system than my own.

There I was, in my power suit, having to explain to my boss why I needed to extend my lunch break to discuss raccoon eviction protocols with a wildlife removal specialist. “Sorry, can’t make the 2 PM call – dealing with unauthorized attic tenants” wasn’t exactly a phrase I’d practiced in my communication workshops.

The silver lining? My negotiation skills from years of corporate deals came in handy – we got the sellers to handle the wildlife removal and repair all damage before closing. And yes, I did include a “raccoon-free premises” clause in the final contract. My legal team would’ve been proud.

The lesson here? Sometimes the biggest challenges in homebuying aren’t about square footage or school districts – sometimes they’re about discovering your dream home comes with its own woodland management challenges. And always, always check the attic.

Until next time, Kay

P.S. I now have a great icebreaker for team meetings: “Ever negotiate with raccoons?”