From Donna's Desk:
I heard him before I saw him: a whoosh in the hallway, that accelerating rhythm that means “we’ve passed curiosity and are approaching event horizon.”
Then he launched through my doorway.
Full-speed, eyes wild, tail streaming behind him: pure, unfiltered pursuit. Every leadership book I’ve ever read talks about “navigating change,” but none of them provide a chapter on “what to do when the change is airborne and has claws.”
“Riley…” I said.
Not a yell. Just his name. The way you say “budget” in a meeting when you need everyone to remember reality exists.
Mid-leap, he clocked the situation: the row of catnip-scented dolls, the tiny Donna with her pin held out like a sword, me sitting calmly at my desk as if we scheduled this.
“We’ve been expecting you,” I told him.
There he was, suspended in midair, teeth bared in shock, twisting just enough to avoid the tiny point of stainless steel authority on my desktop.
And that’s the job, really. Half strategy, half improv, all done while something fast and unpredictable is sailing straight toward your carefully arranged plans.
Leadership manuals call it “being prepared for volatility.”
Around here, we call it Wednesday.
Donna
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