Square Garden.
When I was a little girl, I had one dream… to be a backup dancer for Paula Abdul. I’d spend hours in my bedroom, blasting “Straight Up,” perfecting my moves. I had convinced myself I was destined for the stage. Watching MTV and VH1 like it was my job, and I took that job seriously.
One would think I was honing my skills, but let’s just say the rhythm didn’t exactly get me. My one move “the finger guns” became my trademark. If you know me, you already know what I’m talking about. It’s less choreography and more chaos with confidence.
As my dream of backup-dancing fame faded (somewhere around the time I realized coordination mattered), I also realized I didn’t have a backup plan. No calling, no passion, just a lot of personality and a knack for winging it. So, I did what most of us do, and I let life lead. I tried different jobs, wore different hats, and learned from a lot of “well, that didn’t go as planned” moments.
Eventually, I found something that stuck, people.
I could talk to anyone. I could connect. A friend once told me, “You could sell ice to an Eskimo.” However, I was less interested in the sale and more interested in the story.
I love hearing people’s stories. I love listening, learning, mentoring, laughing, and connecting. I love the moments where people feel seen…because truthfully, that’s what we all want, isn’t it?
Just the other day, a coworker said, “I told Martha to give you a call, you’re great at helping people work through things.” That meant more to me than any award or recognition. Not because I have all the answers (spoiler alert, I don’t), but because it reminded me that my purpose has always been about people. Not fixing them but connecting with them.
I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life. Some I wish I could erase, and some I’d likely repeat again because they taught me valuable lessons. I’ve been reactive when I should’ve been proactive. I’ve fallen flat on my face (metaphorically, and maybe once or twice literally). Every stumble taught me something. You get out of people what you put into them.
That goes for all my people. My kids, my spouse, my friends, my coworkers and myself.
My children are my proudest gift. They’re the best parts of their father and I. Just enough of my fire to keep things interesting but a whole lot of their Dads patients. My friends? Absolute blessings. My family? Unconditional love that can’t be described in words.
My coworkers..They’re my lifeline. My crew. The first people I talk to every morning and usually the last ones I chat with before I call it quits each day. We laugh until our sides hurt, we pick each other up when things go sideways, and we call each other out (lovingly) when we need to. We’re not in competition, we’re in collaboration. The prize, It’s not a title. It’s not the accolades. It’s definitely not the paycheck (though let’s be honest, those dollar bills don’t hurt). The real prize is loving what you do and who you get to do it with. Money won’t buy happiness, but being surrounded by good humans absolutely will.
At the end of the day, that’s my passion. To mentor, connect, and help people grow their own wings. To create spaces where people feel respected, appreciated, and valued. That doesn’t stop when the workday ends. I want my friends, my family, and my kids to feel it too. To know that I’m grateful for them and that they matter. Every single day.
I’ll fail sometimes. I’ll get it wrong. I’ll say too much or expect too much. But I’m not chasing perfection, I’m chasing consistency and authenticity. When I show up, I show up all in. When I pull up a chair, it’s because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. If you need me to sit behind you while you take the lead, cheering like a proud stage mom.. I’ve got my finger guns ready.
So, the moral of my story?
I don’t want to sell ice to an Eskimo. I want the Eskimo to trust me enough to tell me why he doesn’t need it, laugh with me about it, and maybe invite me to stay for coffee anyway. Because it’s not about the sale. It’s about the connection. And that, my friends, is where the real magic happens.
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