I spent years building a company where much of the team consisted of independent contractors. We worked remotely, supported different clients, and had our own areas of expertise. Yet I never wanted someone's employment arrangement to determine how much they mattered to the organization.
I wanted people to feel they had a place at the table, that their opinions were worth hearing, and that they were contributing to something beyond their individual assignments. That didn't mean everyone needed to be involved in every decision, but I believed people should understand what we were trying to accomplish and have opportunities to contribute to it.
I certainly didn't get everything right as a business owner. There were decisions I'd handle differently today, and there were times when the financial pressures of running a small business were difficult to manage. But if there's one thing I believe I got right, it was creating an environment where people felt valued, heard, and included. Looking back, I think that was one of the most important investments I made.
Learning to Build Beyond Myself
When I started Strella Social Media, so much of the business depended on me. I was involved in client relationships, managing the team, overseeing the work, and figuring out how to grow. Eventually, I reached a point where the demands of running the company were limiting my ability to build it.
Through my work with a business coach and my involvement in Vistage, I began to understand that thinking bigger required more than working harder. I needed a company that could operate and grow beyond what I was personally capable of doing. That meant surrounding myself with talented people, including people who knew far more than I did in certain areas, and learning to trust them with meaningful responsibility.
I remember bringing on our first TikTok specialist when businesses were beginning to recognize the platform's potential. She brought expertise I didn't have, but her contribution went well beyond creating content. She helped us identify opportunities with existing clients, explain the value of the platform, and expand what we could offer.
Over time, she became my right hand in the business and eventually our executive vice president. She took on more responsibility for managing the team and day-to-day operations, which freed me to focus on the bigger picture. Just as importantly, she brought a perspective I didn't have. What started as bringing in someone with a particular skill evolved into a partnership that changed how I could lead the company.
Of course, bringing talented people into an organization costs money. There were times when I questioned how much we were spending on the team, particularly when business conditions became more difficult. But I also understood that if I wanted the company to grow, I couldn't continue trying to do everything myself. The investment wasn't always comfortable, and it certainly didn't guarantee that every decision would pay off. But I believe it made us a better company.
When People Want to Be Part of What You're Building
As the team grew, I became increasingly aware that hiring talented people wasn't enough. I also needed to create an environment where they wanted to contribute their talents. That was especially important because we were remote. We couldn't rely on people being in the same office to build relationships or develop a sense of connection, so we had to be intentional about how we communicated and worked together.
We established processes, created opportunities for feedback, and made an effort to understand how people were feeling about their work. I wanted team members to feel comfortable raising concerns, sharing ideas, and challenging decisions when they saw a better approach. I also wanted people to know that their expertise mattered. If I hired someone because they understood something better than I did, it made little sense to bring them into the business and then disregard their judgment.
Over time, I began seeing something that made all that effort worthwhile. People were collaborating without my involvement. They brought ideas to one another, helped solve problems, and got excited about new opportunities. When challenges arose, they worked through them together rather than waiting for me to tell them what to do. There was a sense of shared responsibility that I don't believe I could have created simply by assigning work and paying people to complete it.
The team cared about the clients and the quality of what we delivered, but they also cared about one another and the business they were helping build. For someone who had spent years carrying so much of that responsibility herself, seeing the team take ownership was incredibly rewarding.
When You're Responsible but Not Really Involved
I've also experienced professional environments where that sense of involvement was missing. One of the most frustrating situations is being asked to deliver something without having the information needed to do it well.
You're given an assignment, but the expectations aren't entirely clear. You may not know what decisions have already been made, what conversations have taken place, or what success is supposed to look like. If you're experienced and conscientious, you do what you can. You ask questions, conduct research, apply your judgment, and try to produce something useful. Then you find yourself in a meeting where the work is questioned, the direction changes, or decisions are made without your perspective being considered.
Disagreement is part of any healthy working relationship. I don't expect every recommendation to be accepted, and I understand that other people may have information I don't. What becomes difficult is being held responsible for an outcome without having a meaningful opportunity to contribute to the decisions shaping it.
At first, you might work harder to figure out what's expected. You may ask for more context, request to be included earlier, or try to anticipate what leadership wants. But when those efforts consistently go unanswered, it changes how you approach the work.
I don't think these situations are always intentional. Sometimes managers are moving quickly, communication breaks down, or people assume someone has information they were never given. But the effect can be the same. Someone who genuinely cares about doing good work begins questioning how much additional effort they should invest when they aren't being given the opportunity to contribute fully. And if that experience becomes routine, something more significant can begin to change.
The Work Can Continue Even When the Commitment Fades
Businesses need people to fulfill responsibilities, meet deadlines, and deliver quality work. But people also need to understand what's expected of them and have enough information to do their jobs well. When expectations are unclear, even experienced professionals can spend an enormous amount of time trying to determine what they're supposed to deliver. When that uncertainty is combined with feeling excluded or unheard, it becomes harder to stay invested.
That doesn't necessarily mean people stop doing good work. Someone can still take pride in their profession and deliver what was requested while gradually losing their connection to the organization. They may stop offering ideas that nobody seems interested in hearing or volunteering to solve problems that fall outside their assignments. They're still doing their jobs, but their willingness to contribute beyond those responsibilities begins to fade.
I think organizations can overlook this because the immediate business needs are still being met. Reports get delivered, clients are served, and deadlines are met. From the outside, there may be little indication that anything has changed. But when people no longer believe their contributions matter, an organization loses more than enthusiasm. It loses the judgment, initiative, and collaboration that often make the difference between simply completing work and making meaningful progress.
That becomes particularly important when the business faces challenges. When revenue slows, an important client leaves, or an unexpected problem arises, leaders need people who want to help find a way forward. They need a team that believes in what they're building and trusts that their efforts will make a difference. It's difficult to create that kind of commitment in the middle of a crisis if people have spent months or years feeling disconnected from the organization.
What a Company's Decisions Communicate
I understand why financial considerations become more complicated as businesses grow. I've experienced the pressure of balancing client needs, operating expenses, and the uncertainty of what comes next. Sometimes leaders have to make decisions that disappoint people, positions change or disappear, and financial realities leave fewer options than anyone would like.
I don't think treating people well means avoiding difficult decisions or promising everyone the same opportunities. But I've also come to believe that people can become an afterthought without anyone deliberately deciding they don't matter.
As organizations grow, particularly when they're managing significant change, immediate business needs can consume more and more attention. There are financial targets to meet, clients to satisfy, and operations to keep running. Decisions get made because something needs to move forward, and there isn't always enough consideration of how those decisions affect the people involved. I understand how that happens. What concerns me is how easily it can become the normal way of operating.
I've experienced the difference that even a relatively small act of communication can make. Recently, while reviewing more than 700 articles as part of a website overhaul, I decided to consolidate several individual columnist categories into one. From an organizational standpoint, it made sense. The site needed to be simplified, and the change didn't diminish anyone's contributions.
But I also thought about how it might feel for someone who had spent years writing for us to visit the site and suddenly find that their individual column was gone. So I contacted our current contributors individually to explain what was changing and why. I didn't need their permission to reorganize the website, and I didn't change the decision. But I didn't want them to discover it without understanding what had happened.
That may seem like a small thing. To me, it was simply part of respecting the people who helped build the business. And I think those everyday decisions are where an organization's values become most visible.
A company can talk about collaboration while making important decisions without involving the people responsible for carrying them out. It can describe relationships as a core value while failing to communicate openly with the people who depend on those relationships to do their jobs. It can also continue telling employees how important they are while creating an everyday experience that suggests otherwise.
I don't think the answer is simply more communication from leadership. Organizations can send frequent updates and hold company-wide meetings without ever learning much about what their people are experiencing. I think there has to be some meaningful opportunity for people to be heard, including those who may not have a direct line to the people making decisions. Otherwise, how would leadership know whether the culture it describes is the culture people actually experience? And even when leaders do hear something uncomfortable, there's still the question of what they're willing or able to do about it.
What I Still Believe About Building a Business
Strella Social Media has experienced its share of challenges. The business isn't as profitable as it once was, and the industry has changed considerably since I started the company. Life has brought unexpected changes, too. I don't look back and believe that every investment I made was perfect or that putting people first somehow protected us from difficult business realities. But I do believe those investments helped us build a stronger company than I could have built alone.
The people I brought into the business expanded our capabilities, challenged my thinking, and helped us serve clients in ways I couldn't have managed by myself. More importantly, they developed relationships and a sense of shared responsibility that allowed the team to function beyond my constant involvement.
I wanted talented people to work with us because they believed in what we were doing and felt good about being part of it. I also understood that they had choices. Their expertise was valuable, and I needed to give them reasons to want to stay. I sometimes wonder whether organizations lose sight of that as they become larger and more focused on financial performance.
The people doing the work become easier to discuss in terms of capacity, utilization, or cost. Decisions that affect their daily experience become administrative matters, even when those decisions shape how connected they feel to the company. And gradually, an organization may find itself with people who are still willing to do the work but no longer particularly invested in its future. What concerns me most is that a company might continue operating successfully without realizing how much commitment it has lost along the way.
I believe businesses should be profitable. Without financial stability, there isn't much of a company to sustain or many opportunities for the people who depend on it.
But profitability was never the only reason I wanted to build a business.
I wanted to create something people believed in, something they were proud to contribute to and genuinely wanted to see succeed. I couldn't accomplish that alone, and I couldn't expect people to feel that way simply because I paid them.
Even knowing how difficult running a business can be, I still believe the way people feel about being part of an organization influences what that organization can become. And I wonder how many companies are still getting the work done without realizing that the people doing it have stopped believing in what they're building.
