Extreme Leadership

I now have something that historically sounded like an oxymoron to me: a sober boss. Two words I previously thought were mutually exclusive! Couple that with the fact that she's one of the most intelligent people I've ever met, insightful, driven, hardworking and genuinely interested in our clients' welfare, I finally have a solid, professional, work environment. My boss holds integrity at the top of her list of qualifications and, unintentionally but effectively, surrounds herself with Christians.

My boss is, to use Jim Collins' term in his book Good to Great, a "Level 5 leader." She embodies his definition: a mix of professional will and personal humility, ambitious for her clients first and foremost, sets all of us (staff and clients) up for success, is modest and self-effacing, is fanatically driven with an incurable need to produce sustained results and takes full responsibility if anything ever goes poorly (which it rarely does). Unlike many of my other bosses, she is not larger than life. In fact, she's tiny and somewhat unassuming in her cuff linked, Brooks Brothers suits—that is, until she takes control of a room.

One client, who is a black-belt in Karate, likens a day of Strategic Planning with her with "going 10 rounds." As he says, "I know what that feels like." She is intense.

As such, this is, by far, the best environment I've ever experienced. And I believe wholeheartedly that I got this job through divine intervention.

My husband wanted to move back to Rochester; I did not. I sent a million resumes to companies throughout Maine (where I wanted to live) and only one to Rochester—to a company I had never heard of before and one that did not even have a position posted. I simply researched where alums of the U of R were working and this one firm looked interesting. Unbeknownst to me, my counterpart here was praying for her replacement and a suitable candidate could not be found. It was perfectly scripted.

Six years later, it still feels right with one exception (and it's significant): I'm exhausted.

I remain a good fit here because, in a similar vein to cramming for exams and subsequently acing them, I work well under tight deadlines and bend over backwards to ensure everyone is satisfied. However, as a very intuitive girlfriend who I went to college with recently commented, "Sounds like you've been taking finals every day for six years."

It was as if a light bulb went off in my head. I had a Charlie Brown moment: "That's it!" That's why I am so fatigued. I keep telling my boss that she needs to find my replacement, and even have gone so far as to introduce her recently to a candidate, but she claims I simply need a vacation. Perhaps.

I, once again, await divine intervention because, in addition to sobriety, I now want "normalcy" which I'm loosely defining as "more time with my family and a less furrowed brow." Until then, I keep plugging away because I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep.