Faith Hayden
Associate Director of Editorial Operations & Strategy
It was a gig a decade in the making. After 10 years as a lead singer in the Washington, DC area, my pop-rock cover band landed an audition at a legendary nightclub in Maryland. We had 1 shot over a weekend in deep October to prove the band was worthy of their stage.
The bassist rescheduled an out-of-town trip to make the show. We practiced for months, revising our set list again and again for peak party-rock punch. The hotel was booked, guitars restrung, amps repaired. There was just 1 potential issue left: I could not get sick.
Seven days before the biggest show of our lives, I noticed the first tickle in my throat. Cue the 5 stages of grief. It’s just allergies! How could I be sick; I haven’t left the house! Maybe it will go away if I consume nothing but oranges. I can’t believe the oranges thing didn’t work. I’ve got to tell the band I’m sick.
The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows
I’ve led dozens of teams in my 20+ years as an editor. I’ve collaborated across departments, negotiated with leadership, mentored writers and editors, directed complex publications with philharmonic conductor-level precision, and even still—nothing has taught me more about teamwork, collaboration, and leadership than music.
What is it about music that educates us in ways the traditional workplace doesn’t? In the workplace, it’s easy—cliché even—to fixate on the perceived shortcomings of others. Modern day life can be frantic with more demands on our time and attention than we can give. Your coworker’s poorly worded email becomes another item in a long line of things to address. Don’t they know you’re already overwhelmed? Resentment builds.
What you’re missing, though, is the context. You don’t witness the cascade of events leading up to that typo-filled email, the back-to-back calls, the emergency at home, the cat stepping on the keyboard mid-draft. Like you, your colleagues are juggling more balls than they have hands. Like you, they intend to do a good job.
The stage gives you nothing but context right there in the open. A spilled beer on a pedalboard gives way to missed transitions. A guitar string breaks and the solo for Jimmy Eat World’s “The Middle” becomes a jazz odyssey. Witnessing my bandmates—and myself—occasionally flounder amid their best intentions has made me a more patient and understanding colleague. They want to succeed just as much as you do; 300 people are staring at them.
The following are some of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned from the stage that I’ve carried over to the workplace.
- A positive attitude prevails: We’ve all had bad gigs and bad days. The sound technician can’t figure out the equipment. A project timeline shifts. The “crowd” is 3 bartenders and a security guard. None of it matters. Shake it off, find the joy, and give it your all. You never know who you’re performing for or what kind of day your client had. Make it better.
- Share the load: As the singer, I have 2 pieces of equipment that weigh nothing: a microphone and a microphone stand. My bandmates aren’t so lucky, with 10 times the gear and weight. I don’t have to carry a drum kit up 3 flights of stairs to the stage, but load-in will be much easier on the team if I do. The same can be said for any project. For maximum efficiency, roll up your sleeves and lend a hand.
- Respect your lane: We all have a job to do. The bassist manages the money. The guitarist creates arrangements. The drummer handles the booking. Put people in roles that showcase their strengths, trust them, and get out of the way. Give your colleagues the opportunity to find their way of working. Backseat driving causes collisions.
- Cover for each other: Live performance, like work, is messy and unpredictable. It doesn’t matter how prepared you are, mistakes happen, technology fails, things go off script. That’s okay. What matters is how you respond. Give each other grace, assume good intent, and never point fingers.
With a Little Help From My Friends
Finally, there comes a time when you must lean on your team. As much as I wanted to keep quiet about my illness and power through the audition, performing while sick would have jeopardized our shared goal of putting on the best show possible for our paying audience. That wouldn’t be fair to them, the nightclub, or my bandmates. Four days before the gig, I threw up the flag and asked for help.
The team sprang to action. They found another musician to help sing and split the set with me. They revised the set list again, packing it with easy songs, giving me the best chance of success. They dropped tuning. They bought me a lifetime supply of cough drops.
It wasn’t the cleanest gig we’ve ever played, but it had the most heart. When my voice gave out halfway through the second of 3 sets, the backup singer seamlessly took the reins. As far as the crowd and nightclub knew, it was all part of the plan. Miraculously, we made the cut. The nightclub loved our energy and showmanship and has since invited us back.
There will come a time when you or your colleagues need to send up a flare. No matter how overstretched you are, resist the urge to assume the worst and remember that there’s context you’re not seeing. When you have a team that’s built on a foundation of trust, respect, and shared goals, there’s nothing you can’t accomplish.
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Faith Hayden has more than 20 years of experience in science and medical writing/editing and a master’s degree in nonfiction writing from Johns Hopkins University. At Encompass, Faith works directly with writers on content development, guiding them in a strategic direction and editing their work. She has expertise in medical writing, scientific journals, editorial solutions, and evidence-based practice guidelines, and a deep knowledge of oncology and ophthalmology.
