I’ve told this story dozens of times, and if you’ve worked with me, there’s a good chance you’ve heard it.
At the time, I had just been promoted to Group Creative Director and was trying to figure out what it really meant to go from Creative Director to Creative leader.
My good friend and colleague, Shad Schoenke, had just returned from a family reunion in Atlanta and was filling me in. Shad’s a great storyteller and an even greater creative mind, so I expected something good.
He explained that his wife had a big family, so this reunion was quite the event, hosted at a big house set on a sprawling suburban yard.
Shad went on to say that while there, he’d met an older, retired art director who lived at the house. If you know Shad, you know the creative zealot he is. His enthusiasm for the craft is unmatched, so it was inevitable that the two of them hit it off. Eventually, they found themselves upstairs in the man’s bedroom.
Under the man’s bed was a large shoebox. Inside were neatly arranged relics of his long agency career: ads clipped from newspapers, faded railroad timetables, a sell sheet for “new construction” office space in a building long ago demolished, logos of defunct companies, print ads — everything carefully curated and preserved.
Then Shad stopped his story, flicked my shoulder sharply with the back of his hand, and grinned. “Guess what,” he said. “We’re both gonna have a box under our beds someday.” And proceeded with a big laugh.
He was right. Shad and I shared the “work comes first” mentality. Years of long nights, relentless craft, and going the extra mile to get it right—all of it was someday going to result in curated boxes signifying our own life’s work.
And that’s when it hit me. The difference between the creative I was and the leader I needed to be had to go beyond the eventual shoebox of accomplishments. It had to be more than that.
So what’s it about, if not the work? You’ve probably guessed: it’s about people.
As much as we love doing the work, creative leaders have to be willing to let some of that go and embrace the role of guiding others on their own journeys.
In a world where apprenticeship is rare and mentorship is fading, replaced by training videos and AI queries, the role of teaching and mentoring has devolved from human guidance to mechanical how-to’s. The result is an increasing number of people who are amazing at the ever-evolving applications of new technologies, but are often blind to the craft itself.
I love the marketing business. But as wonderful as it can be, it’s fleeting. The work is temporary, forgotten within months or even weeks, when that next cool thing arrives.
The effect you have on the lives of those around you—the mentoring, the teaching, the moments of support that help someone grow—is the legacy that lasts.
It can’t be about the box.
It was a story that changed me. Changed how I lead. And even now, as I write it down, I can still feel that moment and the power of it.
