There was a time in agency life when we provided free lunches for the whole team— a you feed us, we feed you gesture on my part.
Then Capital + Merchant Finance went spectacularly bust, leaving us with some hectic debt. Suddenly, those lunches weren’t just feeding us—they were eating us alive.
In the aftermath, we had to strip every bit of sugar out of our operating expenses. Literally. No more catered lunches. No more small luxuries. Survival mode: activated.
You’d think I’d cancelled Christmas. A couple of senior staff—who knew the numbers—looked at me like I’d stolen their firstborn. They weren’t just disappointed; they were offended. Free food wasn’t a perk—it was apparently a fundamental human right I’d violated.
Then came the studio assistant. The youngest on the team, earning the least, so theoretically with the most to lose. He caught me in the kitchen, calm as you like, and
said:
“
So, what else can we cut? Should we start taking turns cleaning the place for a while?
I stared at him, wondering if he was serious. He was. Turns out, his dad was an entrepreneur, so he got it—this wasn’t the end of the world, just a regular speed bump on the business highway.
That moment has stayed with me. While others saw this as a personal affront, he saw it for what it was: a temporary challenge. His perspective wasn’t just refreshing—it humbled me.
It’s funny how resilience and generosity often come from the least expected places. They have nothing to do with titles or tenure but everything to do with the grit to roll up your sleeves—and maybe grab a mop.
I’ve learned this lesson more times than I care to admit: tough times don’t just test and strengthen us—they reveal us too.