Introduction

I remember when I loved my job, enjoyed going to work, and delighted in helping people through tough, strange, and rewarding experiences. But leading people while on the brink of burnout? Well that’s a whole other story.

On Monday, July 10, 2023, I was wrapping up emails before going to bed and came across an update from our communications team addressed to me, our co-CEOs, and legal counsel. It referred to the cash compensation of senior executives over the past year, disclosed in our Chapter 11 bankruptcy submission. We were warned of the onslaught of inevitable negative responses.

The email said, “People are talking.”

I didn’t dwell on it. Our bankruptcy process had been tumultuous, with information leaking from every conceivable source, accurate or not. This was, I figured, just another chapter in our messy story.

As I was transitioning from my role as Chief People Officer at Vice during its headline-grabbing bankruptcy process, my days were consumed with helping our team secure severance payments for laid-off employees—an issue that the bankruptcy courts had blocked for months. Facing the emotional toll and uncertainty this process had on employees was grueling for everyone, myself included. Vice’s public image took a backseat in my mind, and I was primarily concerned with the way these choices were impacting the employees I’d supported for three years.

However, following that email, a colleague told us that one of our journalists had turned to then-named-Twitter to reveal the salaries and bonuses of senior executives, including me, framing the amounts as a symbol of Vice’s declining moral and financial condition.

I read the tweet and sighed. I had grown desensitized to the ongoing drama.

Before going to sleep, I casually told my husband that our salaries had been leaked, shaking my head and saying, “I’ll deal with this tomorrow.” It was frustrating to have my private information exposed, but in the grand scheme of things, it was out in the open for everyone to see. Leaks had become synonymous with Vice.

The following morning, I woke up early and headed to the gym, checking my email during my subway ride, finding nothing of note. My daughter was away at camp, and my husband worked from home that day. It was another workday, with the hope of getting closer to solving a recurring task: sorting out the latest severance payment challenge.

However, I had yet to check social media.

As I rode the subway back home, my inbox flooded with emails from our co-CEOs asking, “What should we do about this?”

Uncertain, I began by examining social media, then delved into the hundreds of responses from the employee tweet.

My heart stopped.

Sure, there were tweets, but that was just the beginning.

My inbox and DMs became inundated with comments like “fuck off you hack” and demands to “pay people you worthless piece of shit.”

I had been trapped in a daily grind for months, executing painful layoffs while holding people through the aftermath of bankruptcy and battling to secure severance payments for laid-off employees. The mockery and contempt aimed at my compensation were misplaced and infuriating.

“¡Coño!”

I—someone who had spent my career building inclusive and equitable workplaces—was portrayed as heartlessly laying off hundreds of employees while pocketing extravagant bonuses.

Now, this wasn’t my first “Rising Above the Challenges: A Workplace Story.” As a Latina who defied the odds to rise to the executive ranks of some of the world’s most admired companies, I’ve often felt overlooked for my contributions and subjected to unwarranted scrutiny. I’ve been tasked with cleaning up the messes left behind by others, all while facing pressure to conform, downplay, and mute who I was.

I’ve also endured hurtful messages from colleagues, managers, and even right-wing extremists questioning my worth. In my senior leadership human resources role, I was often the go-between at the intersection of employees and leaders. Leader complaints and fears came to me. What employees couldn’t say directly to their managers or company leaders, they would say to me. I was the sounding board, and sometimes the punching bag—it came with the territory.

But this time was different. I was the target of a smear campaign, painted as a greedy, unethical executive.

Being the target of mobs who loathed me, instead of those responsible for this mess, was hard. Didn’t they know that I was just as fed up with this flawed system as they were?

I felt like I had been punched in the gut.

After years of guiding other people through organizational fires, I was the one who got burned. And one step closer to being burned out. Like, burnt crispy.

But here’s the thing.

As much as I wanted to throw up my hands and say  “I quit!”,  by staying and immersing myself in the discomfort and chaos, I met the leader I was destined to be.

As I made my way through the turmoil, I discovered the power within to lead people in the way I was truly meant to.

That’s why I want to help others, especially those entrusted with managing people, to free themselves from the weight of burnout, unending demands, tension, and chaos so that they may radiate a brighter light for others. (And feel good about themselves too!)

While the relentless attacks hurt, I sought refuge in others and opened myself up to the help that was generously offered. My husband’s steadfast love extended to managing my social media feeds and ensuring I didn’t skip meals. Reassuring texts appeared out of the blue, like the one from a friend, a high-profile white male attorney, who wrote, “No need for apologies. A white man wouldn’t apologize. You are worth every penny, and HR is not accountable for financial decisions.”

I knew this, but it was hard to embrace amid the noise. The questions gnawed at me: Would these allegations tarnish my reputation? Would I be shunned by colleagues or future employers? When would this end?

I turned to a communications crisis expert, who stressed the value of keeping a steady composure. Everyone was racing to say or report anything that would keep the drama alive. It felt like a twisted reality show where everyone wanted their moment in the spotlight. The time for telling my story would come, but for now, I needed space and time to unfold.

I knew this was the way to go. I’d doled out this counsel to dozens of leaders, mostly white men, over the years. But when you find yourself in the thick of such loathsome hostility, what you hunger for most is a healthy dose of grace.

Occasional moments of relief reminded me that this, too, would pass. However, sporadic texts from friends like “Are you holding up alright? I came across this…” swiftly reignited the anguish. “Ay, Daisy, take a deep breath. Come back to yourself,” I would tell myself.

I confronted the daily fury that became my shadow during the most demanding years of leading people as the top HR executive of a global media company. Over three grueling years, my role involved navigating our workforce through an unprecedented triad of crises—health, economic, and societal upheavals. Executing cost-saving layoffs while ensuring the respect and dignity of each impacted human intensified my sense of injustice. That summer, my heart went out to those who suffered because of our company’s bankruptcy, and the burden of guilt was overwhelming because I couldn’t change their circumstances.

I couldn’t shoulder that heavy load indefinitely. No one should.

Through the firestorm, I continued to do my job, advocating for employees and supporting my team, leaders, and managers through this latest crisis. I doubled down on empathy and compassion and became a one-woman persuasion machine for the rights of employees to voice their concerns. Despite weathering unfair personal attacks, I upheld my commitment to treating every employee with dignity and respect.

I know the feeling all too well—being engulfed by chaos and yet pressing on. And here’s what I’ve learned: As a leader, when you find yourself amid a raging fire without a clear escape route, you have no choice but to take that first step and lead yourself and your teams through the flames.

Here We Go

According to conventional wisdom, leaders are the architects of an organization’s overall tone, vision, and strategy, while managers transform these high-level ideas into practical steps. Both roles lead people, but managers are key in advancing tasks, initiatives, and products. Their effectiveness hinges on their ability to nurture their team’s talents, experiences, and well-being to meet goals.

Leaders and Managers

This book is dedicated to leaders who manage people in every aspect, bearing a significant share of responsibilities. Throughout the book, I’ll use “manager” as shorthand, emphasizing that in the modern workplace, the essence of management is fundamentally about leading people.

Everyone wants to manage people until they have to manage people. That’s my cheeky advice to those itching for leadership promotions before they’re ready.

Managers are in the trenches, day in and day out, with the most direct influence on how their teams...