Some of my best friendships were forged in the work itself; teammates became friends, the laughter and stories continue. And some of my best ideas came to me far away from the work altogether.
Most of the turns weren't planned. They were chosen.
I started working full time in my teens and went to school at night, so learning and doing were intertwined from the beginning. A few years later, a vacation to Maui turned into a reason to stay. I went to work on the boats and kept thinking “I could do the food better than this.” So I took one paycheck, bought the food, found an affordable church kitchen, and started my first company.
What began with better food became a better way to serve the boats: dock delivery, account billing, and packaging that could handle sun, weather, movement, and passengers. I built around the whole problem, not just the meal. The company grew, succeeded, and eventually I sold it. The relationships I made there opened doors into hospitality, technology, and entirely different kinds of work.
That entrepreneurial instinct has stayed with me: see the opportunity, pay attention to what's changing and what may be needed next, then carry the idea from vision to execution. I've always trusted my intuition; experience taught me to pair it with data, pressure-test the risk, and know when an opportunity is worth the bet.
From there, my career moved between entrepreneurial and corporate worlds; often literally moving for the right opportunity. Some opportunities found me through relationships, reputation, and work I'd already done; others I went after hard because I knew the fit was right. Inside larger organizations, I brought the same entrepreneurial lens: use the scale and discipline, but don't let the structure limit what's possible.
Ownership stayed woven through it all. I owned and reimagined hotels, and over the years continued buying, renovating, and operating homes as vacation rentals: part hospitality, part investment, and a natural extension of work I already knew well.
I've always traveled to be in a place, not just see it. I went whenever I could, immersed myself in different cultures, and let those experiences stretch the way I saw the world. Eventually the work became more global, too, and that perspective came with me.
I still look for the same pull: work with real value in it, something worth giving my full energy to, and the chance to create something meaningful along the way. I don't need to know exactly where the next chapter leads. I'm still ready for the next adventure and open to where the right one takes me.
Leadership begins with people.
For me, leadership is creating the conditions for people, ideas, and organizations to thrive. It's about earning trust, aligning people across teams, levels, and perspectives around a common purpose, and helping them move through change with clarity and confidence.
That strength shows up quietly by standing up for your team, holding the vision steady, and backing every word with action. It's asking the tough questions and holding people to the standard because accountability is a form of respect.
Buy-in isn't something you win; it's something you build. Involve people early, listen closely, recognize what they bring, and help them see the whole. How the outcome serves the organization, their own work, and the people they're there to serve. Everyone may not get everything they asked for, but they can be heard, understand the why, and see where their voice mattered. That's where real commitment begins.
From there, it's putting resources within reach, giving people genuine ownership of what they do best, and protecting momentum by recognizing progress and celebrating success along the way and out loud.
I believe in…
Setting the direction. Make the destination and the why clear, even when we don’t yet have every answer.
Giving people room. Set the bar, provide the resources, and trust capable people to own the way there.
Making change with people, not to them. Invite voices in early. People support what they understand and help shape.
Celebrating the wins. Notice progress, recognize the people behind it, and enjoy the moment before moving on.
Staying steady. Pressure doesn't need to be passed downstream. Sometimes the most useful thing a leader can do is hold the center, clear obstacles, and keep the team moving.
Pressure has a way of editing out what doesn't matter.
Some chapters asked more of me than I expected. They tested my judgment, my resilience, and sometimes the plan itself. Drought, financial pressure, ownership changes, mergers, major transitions, and times when there simply wasn't a clean answer taught me that strength isn’t always sticking to the plan. Sometimes it’s recognizing when the circumstance has changed enough that the plan needs to be rewritten too.
I don't romanticize those periods, but I value what they sharpened. They taught me to name reality early, separate ego from the decision, change course when the facts change, and understand that uncertainty is something people live through, not just something leaders manage.
They also gave me a quieter confidence in what I can handle. I know how to make the hard decision, adapt when I need to, and keep moving forward without losing sight of the people affected along the way.
A little distance changes the angle.
A long ride, time on the water, a trail, a round of golf, or somewhere I've never been. Getting out and moving has always been how I reset.
It's where I decompress, laugh, spend time with people I love, and let the noise fall away. Sometimes a solution follows me out there; sometimes the point is simply to leave it behind for a while. I've never drawn especially hard lines between work, play, people, and adventure. They feed different parts of me, and I think I'm better at all of them because of the others.
Along the way I've led enterprise technology transformations, rebranded hotels, launched new businesses, stabilized budgets measured in tens of millions, and stood up teams that outperform long after I've moved on.
A historic drought was closing in on a resort community whose entire economy depended on snow. Bookings were collapsing. Sponsors were pulling back. Vendors wanted answers no one had.
I took the meeting rooms one by one — operators, owners, tourism boards, municipal leaders — and rebuilt the plan around what was still true: the community, the mountain, the story. We repriced. We repositioned. We brought guests back for reasons that had nothing to do with snowfall.
The season didn't just survive. It became a case study in turning a crisis into a category shift.