Here, I Have a Story to Tell You

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Five jobs that didn't make my resume. No. 5

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Here, I have a story to tell you

Hey, It's Sunday Morning.

My last job didn’t come with a punch card, a paycheck or the smell of ink or dust or leather. It came with eyes watching me closely, silently wondering: How do I do this? Am I doing this right?

Coaching isn't really a job or a title. It’s a responsibility you accept the moment someone trusts you with their doubt.

None of the jobs that came before prepared me for it. But somehow, all of them did.

Because coaching, like leadership, lives in the quiet stuff: In how you listen when someone’s nervous. In how you give feedback that leaves the other person taller, not smaller. In how you let people fail—just enough to learn, but not enough to drown.

It's seeing the person and not just the problem. Remembering what it felt like to be the one packing the shoes, twisting the hangers, shining the keys, or praying the tricycle comes back heavy. It’s having skin in the game—not just your own, but theirs too.

So, when someone asks what qualifies me to coach, I don’t hand them a resume, I tell them about the furnace, the tricycle, the Remington, the rawhide, and the label, perfectly straight.

None of it seemed important at the time. But I still think of that first nickel. And the Cow, quietly waiting for me, ready to fly.

See you next Sunday.