Friday I’m In Love: An Email From Colleen Hill

Sometimes we succeed in spite of ourselves.

About 18 months ago, we were looking to hire a Creative Director at Struck. I’ve written quite a bit about our efforts to increase diversity, equity, and inclusion over the last five years—and, during the search for a new CD, I felt like we (mostly our recruiter/HR pro, Fran) had figured out how to find and attract an incredible variety of applicants. Honestly, I was blown away by the impressive people we talked to over those couple months. I couldn’t believe how much intelligence, experience, perspective, and sharpened creativity each of them would bring to Struck. It was a difficult to decision to say no to any of them, no matter how wonderful our final selection was.

As we narrowed the search, Fran recommended that I send a note to each of the creative directors who had interviewed with our team. So I did. I scribbled a few lines, included a few stickers and maybe a notebook (shameless agency promotion even in the moment of rejection!), and then Fran sent them off. We felt it was the least we could do to thank such great humans for subjecting themselves to the insanity of a job search.

By early November of the following year (2018), a lot of things had changed. I was working with the team at Struck to figure out a separation/departure (a “conscious uncoupling,”). Our business had shifted quite a bit. There were a lot of personnel changes. And, well, in the middle of that—I spent a lot of time thinking about success and failure. It’s natural when a long relationship (in this case, 10+ years) ends to try to make some sort of assessment: This was good, that was bad, all the rest was just fine. I don’t know if any of that thinking/assessing is helpful, but it happens. It happened. I was doing it. And it didn’t feel great.

Taking a vocal and transparent stance on diversity, equity, and inclusion meant that I was holding us (and, mostly, me) to a high standard. And I was coming to the conclusion that I’d failed in a lot of ways. Honestly, I still kind of feel that way. There’s always more to do. There will always be situations that I look back on with some degree of regret. I will always wonder if I could’ve shown more empathy, if I could’ve made a bigger impact, if I could’ve lifted more and disappointed less. I’m at peace with most of it, but I hang on to those thoughts as part of an never-ending process of self-improvement. That’s what I tell myself.

All of this is to say: I’m not sure I deserve the email Colleen Hill sent me on November 8, 2018.

Hi Matt,
Hope you’re doing well. Not sure if you remember me, I interviewed for a creative director role at Struck in October of last year.

Just wanted to drop a note and say thank you for truly being a great role model, advocate for women in leadership, and gracious leader. When I spoke with you I was working at a place that had an incredibly toxic culture and speaking with you really helped me figure out what was important for me and what I wanted from my next job. I still have the hand written thank you note you sent after my interview — actually I brought it with me when I resigned from my position at GTB. I used it as example of the type of place I want to work, the people I want to work for and the type of leader I aspire to be. Shortly after I spoke with you I found a job at a place with a CCO who has similar values and it’s made a world of difference in how I feel leaving work at the end of the day.

Anyway, I found myself thinking of that note today as I watch friends and colleagues post from the 3% conference and wanted to reach out and say thanks!

All the best, Colleen

Colleen was one of the candidates we interviewed in 2017. She didn’t get the job. I figured we’d never hear from her again—not for any reason other than not getting the job sucks. But, as the 2018 3% Conference was getting underway in Chicago, she took a few minutes to write me an email. I have it saved on my hard drive. I have it stashed in the cloud. I’ve printed it and stored it in a file folder. I nearly have it committed to memory.

Not because of what it says about me (because, again, I don’t know that I deserve any of those compliments—at least not without admitting that Fran, Pauline, and a lot of other great people at Struck deserve them more than I do), but because Colleen’s email is a reminder that there are small differences to be made—incremental changes that ultimately mean everything.

Colleen’s email is the best version of the hokey starfish parable. The work of diversity, equity, and inclusion is endless. At our small, independent agency, it felt like we were making improvements, but that we (or I, if it’s okay to be selfish for a second) weren’t having the impact that a bigger agency might have. Or, that we were taking two steps forward and then a little hop back.

Colleen’s email, though, tells a different story. And that’s why I’m sharing it (with her permission). I want everyone who cares about making change in our industry to read that email and to think about micro-actions. Think about handwritten notes. Think about the way you talk in interviews. Think about the language in your job postings. Think about the people who aren’t going to work at your agency, but need a little extra courage to speak truth or jump ship or start a revolution.

It’s about to start snowing in Portland and might not stop for a week. The whole city will shut down. I need to make a run on the grocery store. But it’s Friday and I’m in love with a three-month-old email. I still don’t think I’ve been a great advocate or ally, but Colleen thinks I have. And maybe that’s all the matters.

Every Friday I share something I love. Usually, it’s a new infatuation. Occasionally, it’s something else. We’ll see how it goes. Thanks for the theme song, Phoebe Bridgers!