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What Vacation Taught Me About Perspective This summer, I took a road trip. It took about five days before I truly relaxed—perhaps because I wouldn't fully let go of my work responsibilities. But once I met up with family, set up my tent, grabbed a cold drink, and settled into a camp chair, the stress simply melted away. For the first time in a while, I was completely present. Stepping away from my usual routine, meeting new people, and navigating unfamiliar places provided a much-needed break from the constant demands and noise of everyday life. My out-of-office message gave me permission to unplug, and the lack of internet certainly helped. Something else happened during vacation that surprised me. Time away shifted my perspective. Like many people, I tend to settle into familiar routines. My days become predictable, and I minimize interruptions because they feel inefficient. But after returning home, I noticed things differently. Standing in my kitchen, I momentarily forgot which drawer held the silverware. In my office, I suddenly saw clutter that had become invisible to me. Instead of slipping immediately back into old habits, I decided to preserve some of that fresh perspective. I threw away pens that no longer worked. I filed old receipts, shredded outdated documents, dusted, vacuumed, and reorganized my workspace. The clear kitchen counters that had welcomed me home were quickly collecting random items again, so I stopped to ask myself why. Rather than accepting the clutter as inevitable, I made changes that better reflected how I wanted to live and work. That experience reminded me of a concept from William Ury called "going to the balcony." In his work on negotiation and conflict resolution, he describes metaphorically stepping away from the interaction, as though you're watching it from a balcony overlooking the scene. From that vantage point, emotions become less overwhelming, patterns become more visible, and new possibilities begin to emerge. Conflict often feels immediate and personal. We react from habit, defend our position, or repeat conversations that never seem to move forward. But when we intentionally step back—even briefly—we create space to ask better questions, understand the situation more completely, and choose a response instead of simply reacting. Sometimes the perspective we need doesn't come from solving the problem harder. It comes from creating enough distance to see it differently. Everyone deserves the opportunity to step away from the demands of daily life. Whether it's a two-week vacation, a long weekend, or simply taking a walk before responding to a difficult email, those moments of distance can reset more than our energy—they can reset our perspective. And perhaps that's one of the greatest gifts of stepping away: we return not just rested, but able to see our lives, our relationships, and our conflicts with fresh eyes. From there, better conversations—and better outcomes—become much easier to imagine. 
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We're down to the final week of the World Cup. One thing I've noticed as the tournament has progressed is that the higher the stakes become, the more aggressive the play. During group play, every team was guaranteed three matches, and by the third game some had already secured their advancement. Now, in the semifinals and finals, every challenge carries greater consequences. Tackles are harder, emotions run hotter, players argue more passionately with the referees, and the energy from the fans has reached another level. Interpersonal conflict follows a remarkably similar pattern. As frustration builds, people become more protective of their position, their values, or their sense of power. The longer conflict goes unaddressed, the higher the perceived stakes become. What may have started as a misunderstanding slowly transforms into a battle over respect, fairness, identity, or control. Addressing conflict early helps preserve relationships, manage emotions, and create opportunities for productive dialogue. Avoiding it often has the opposite effect. By the time a mediator is invited into the conversation, the conflict has frequently taken on a life of its own. Resistance to mediation becomes yet another obstacle because the conflict itself has become the new normal. Recently, I worked with two situations that illustrate this perfectly. The first involved co-parents. One parent had developed a pattern of avoiding difficult conversations while the other often felt excluded from important decisions regarding their child. Eventually, an opportunity arose that required both parents to agree. For the parent who had previously felt powerless, this became an opportunity to finally exercise some influence and stand firm on deeply held values. Unfortunately, the inability to communicate constructively placed the child in the middle. Rather than focusing on what the child wanted, the unresolved history between the parents became the defining issue. The child now risks losing an experience they were excited about while the relationship with one or both parents may suffer further damage. The second case involved a workplace conflict that had been simmering for more than a year. Leadership was aware of the conflict, but meaningful intervention never occurred. The issue was essentially shelved. Six months later...guess who received the call? By then, the disagreement had expanded well beyond two employees with different communication styles. It had evolved into a conversation about organizational systems, trust, and perceived fairness. While both employees acknowledged that communication was at the heart of the conflict, the conflict itself had become part of their professional identity. Admitting mistakes or taking accountability felt risky because the dysfunctional relationship had become familiar. At that point, voluntary mediation represented an opportunity to reset the relationship. Without it, management's remaining options were becoming increasingly limited, including potential disciplinary action. That is where concepts like BATNA and WATNA become useful. In negotiation, BATNA—the Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement—is the course of action available if no agreement is reached. WATNA—the Worst Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement—asks us to consider what happens if things go as badly as they reasonably could. For the World Cup teams, the WATNA is simple: lose and go home. That reality drives extraordinary effort, fierce competition, and, at times, aggressive behavior. In our personal and professional lives, the alternatives are often less obvious but far more enduring. A BATNA may mean accepting legal costs, changing jobs, parallel parenting, or simply continuing as things are. A WATNA may be damaged relationships, ongoing stress, declining trust, or a child caught between two parents. The challenge is that BATNAs and WATNAs are highly subjective. People don't always choose the option that appears most logical from the outside. They choose the one that feels safest based on their experiences, emotions, and perceptions. Unlike the World Cup, where someone ultimately wins and someone loses, most of life's conflicts don't end with a final whistle. We still have to work together. We still have to co-parent. We still have to share space, make decisions, and solve problems. That's why the goal shouldn't be to "win" the conflict. The goal is to resolve it before the stakes become so high that everyone loses.  Rules, Fairness, and Ethics When my kids were little, we signed them up for AYSO soccer. As a volunteer-run organization, it depended on parents stepping in to help, so one year I volunteered to referee. Since these were under-six players, I quickly discovered I wasn't really officiating soccer as much as managing a herd of energetic cats. Having completed the referee training, I was determined to do the job correctly. I blew my whistle every time I saw a violation because, after all, the rules were the rules. Apparently, I was taking my responsibilities a little too seriously because a parent finally yelled, "Just let them play!" They were right. At that age, the rules were intended more as teaching tools than rigid standards. My job wasn't simply to enforce them—it was to help children learn the game. I've always been something of a rule follower, although my friends would probably point out that I occasionally decide certain rules are really just "guidelines," particularly when it benefits me. Professionally, however, I see ethics very differently. As a mediator, the ethical standards governing our profession, and the principles reflected in the Uniform Mediation Act are not optional guidelines. They are the foundation of our credibility. Confidentiality, neutrality, impartiality, informed consent, and party self-determination are what distinguish a professional mediator from someone who simply calls themselves one. Those principles create trust in the process. That is why I found the recent World Cup controversy involving the overturning of a red card issued to a U.S. player so troubling. Referees are entrusted to make decisions on the field. Those decisions are supported by assistant referees, video review, and VAR. The process is designed to minimize error while preserving the referee's authority. It is not perfect, but it is intended to be fair and consistent. My own experience as a youth referee taught me how difficult officiating can be. Even in a game played by six-year-olds, every decision required judgment. Players, coaches, and spectators didn't always agree, but respecting the authority of the referee was part of respecting the game itself. Whether or not the overturned red card was justified, the appearance that outside influence could alter a disciplinary decision raises important questions. If exceptions can be made in one situation, where does the line get drawn? If one decision is subject to outside pressure, what confidence do players, teams, and fans have that other decisions are being made under the same standards? Fairness depends as much on consistency as it does on correctness. The reversal also placed the U.S. team with a decision to make. While the suspension had been lifted, the team still had a choice about whether to take advantage of that opportunity. Reasonable people can disagree about what they should have done, but situations like this remind us that ethics often extend beyond what is merely allowed. They involve considering fairness, integrity, and the broader impact on others. Throughout this tournament, we've witnessed remarkable examples of sportsmanship. Players who battled fiercely for ninety minutes embraced one another after the final whistle. Host cities welcomed visiting teams and supporters with warmth and generosity. FIFA introduced rules intended to reinforce respect and sportsmanship on and off the field. Those moments remind us why we love sports. Competition matters, but so does trust in the game itself. Whether we're officiating a soccer match, mediating a dispute, leading an organization, or simply interacting with one another, rules create consistency. Ethics create trust. When both are honored, people may not always like the outcome, but they can have confidence that the process was fair. In the end, the United States' elimination from the tournament rendered the controversy largely moot. But the larger lesson remains. Fairness isn't measured only by who wins or loses. It's measured by whether everyone believes the same rules—and the same ethical standards—apply equally to everyone.  I realized the power of presenting in front of an audience many years ago. I was the PTA president at the small school my children attended. Part of my volunteer role included collaborating with the school administration and parents as well as lead the board activities. A big part of the role was motivating parents to act in support of school fundraisers. As I stood on the small stage, in front of about 100 pairs of eyes, I had that aha moment. Along with the power I had for those few minutes, I recognized the need to respect my audience and be clear about my goals. This led me to Toastmasters, an organization focused on building leadership and presentation skills. For over a decade, I showed up for the Friday “Happy Hour” to support my fellow Toastmasters and work on my own skills. I realized that while I do love the sound of my voice, my audience does not enjoy hearing ah’s, um’s, so so’s, and tongue clicks. Thanks to the role of Ah Counter, I quickly became aware of those crutches and learned to exhale and pause instead. When I hear a “professional” speaker now and they are using these crutches, I get so distracted and judgey! The first speech is called the Ice Breaker. Up to 6 minutes to talk about a subject we all know well—ourselves! The Pathway progresses through different components of speaking including purpose and vocal variety. To complete the Pathway, a Toastmaster also participates in other roles including serving as Toastmaster of the Day, basically the meeting facilitator. I took a hiatus from Toastmasters for almost 15 years. One of the reasons I left my original club was due to no longer getting feedback or support to help me grow. Evaluations are another component of the Toastmaster experience. For every speech, there is an Evaluator listening to provide feedback. Feedback includes what the speaker did well, how they met the goals of the project, and constructive feedback to help the speaker improve. When I stopped getting constructive feedback from my Happy Hour club, I no longer felt motivated to continue attending. Toastmasters provides clear guidance on how to provide effective feedback through the Evaluator role. And keeping in mind that we all have different reasons for being a Toastmaster, we do a disservice to our colleagues when we don’t take time to overcome our own issues with giving and receiving feedback. We grow when we are faced with adversity. We feel appreciated when we connect with our audience and hear that we attained the goal of the speech. It’s a balance to evaluate another. We want to encourage as well as foster growth. I am once again a Toastmaster, and it is a new era. “That’s not how we used to do it” is often on the tip of my tongue! The pandemic changed the organization, which had been resistant to any form of virtual identity. My preference is a live, in-person meeting. However, my weakness shows when I am speaking virtually. My challenges include connecting with the audience, being aware that there IS an audience I am speaking to and finding my speaker identity virtually. Since so much of life is now done virtually, I am grateful for this challenge. Feedback that I often receive (in and out of Toastmasters) is that I tend to rush my words and get off track when I get nervous. Yep. Toastmasters has a low bar for entry. Essentially $10/month plus the club dues. The commitment is for 6 months at a time. And most clubs offer both hybrid and virtual meeting options. I encourage anyone seeking to build their skills in leadership, become more confident, or even just to meet and learn from a diversity of people, to check out Toastmasters. www.toastmasters.org  Why a Communication Strategist Is a Valuable Partner Somehow, somewhere, I became the professional that people call on their worst days. When communication has broken down into something that feels more like combat than collaboration. When the thought of sitting across from a colleague feels impossible. When a supervisor is exhausted—feeling like they’re being knocked over again and again by the same relentless wave. This is where a Communication Strategist steps in. Humans are complex, diverse, and emotional. Misunderstandings happen. Feelings get hurt. And organizational systems—often unintentionally—create the perfect conditions for conflict between employees, teams, and leadership. Organizations already rely on specialized partners:
But when communication breaks down and conflict escalates… who do you call? Too often, organizations expect employees to “figure it out,” managers to step in (even if they’re conflict-averse), or HR to absorb the issue simply because it involves people. But does that truly resolve the underlying problem? A Communication Strategist fills this gap. Think of it as your “secret sauce”—a trusted, on-call partner dedicated to addressing communication challenges before they escalate into costly, morale-draining conflicts. Imagine the impact of:
With one call, you have access to a professional who can de-escalate tension, coach for clarity, and guide people toward real solutions. A Communication Strategist is not just reactive—it’s a proactive investment in the health of your organization. It’s confidential, accessible, and designed to keep your people focused on what matters most: your mission. Ready to add a powerful partner to your organization? Visit www.adrgroupnw.com to learn more about monthly Communication Strategist packages—and give your team the support they need to communicate, collaborate, and perform at their best. www.adrgroupnw.com/on-call-communication-strategist.html  Okay. I admit it. I am obsessed. I am finding any excuse to watch FIFA matches. Watching the world come together through the beautiful game is inspiring, exciting, and at times gravity-defying. The athleticism is extraordinary, but beyond the goals and highlight reels, these matches have me thinking about something much bigger than soccer. As I have watched match after match, three observations keep coming to mind. Diversity on Display One of the things FIFA has reminded me of is how much countries continue to evolve. While some nations still have populations that appear more ethnically homogeneous, many others reflect centuries of migration, colonization, and globalization. I was watching France versus Senegal and found myself reflecting on how difficult it would be to identify many players' national teams without their uniforms. Countries like France, Belgium, Germany, England, and the United States are increasingly represented by athletes from a wide range of racial, ethnic, and cultural backgrounds. The modern football pitch is a visual reminder that national identity and ethnic identity are not the same thing. Nations evolve. People move. Cultures blend. And teams often reflect that reality. The American Team Watching the United States Men's National Team fills me with pride. What I see on the pitch looks a lot like the communities I encounter in my community and travels across America. Different races. Different family histories. Different cultural influences. Yet all wearing the same jersey. We are, and always have been, a nation shaped by immigration. Unless your roots trace back to Indigenous peoples such as the Navajo, Apache, Chumash, or countless other Native nations, your family story likely includes someone who made the difficult decision to leave one place and build a life somewhere else. Those journeys were not always easy. Many immigrants arrived seeking opportunity, safety, freedom, or a better future for their families. They often encountered challenges, discrimination, and sacrifice along the way. Yet generation after generation, they continued building lives and communities that helped shape the country we know today. When I watch our players compete, I see pieces of those stories. Some benefited from circumstances that helped open doors. Others overcame tremendous obstacles to reach the highest level of their sport. Together, they represent a uniquely American story. Borders and Belonging FIFA has also reminded me that nations themselves are human constructs. The natural world does not recognize the lines we draw on maps. Rivers flow across borders. Birds migrate without passports. Whales do not stop at immigration checkpoints as they travel between feeding and calving grounds. For much of human history, people were nomadic. They followed food sources, weather patterns, trade routes, and opportunities. Movement is not new. Migration is part of the human story. My own ancestors made the decision to leave everything familiar and migrate to America several generations ago. That decision could not have been easy. They left family, traditions, language, and the comfort of home in pursuit of something they hoped would be better. Even today, moving can be difficult. Many people spend their lives close to where they were raised because familiarity provides comfort, stability, and connection to family. Choosing to leave all of that behind—especially when it means leaving your country—is rarely a decision made lightly. Yet those choices continue to shape nations around the world. What Makes Us American? Being an American is complicated. There is no single race, ethnicity, religion, food, family tradition, or even English dialect that defines what it means to be American. We are simply too diverse for that. What binds us together is not that we all look alike, worship alike, vote alike, or even agree with one another. What binds us together is a shared commitment to a set of ideals expressed in our founding documents and continually refined by each generation. Were those documents perfect? Of course not. They were written by imperfect people living in a very different time. Yet they established principles that created space for growth, debate, and progress. America was always more of an idea than a finished product. And perhaps that is why I find so much meaning in watching our national team compete. When I watch the U.S. Men's National Team, I don't see one race, one religion, one culture, or one story. I see America as it actually exists—diverse, complicated, imperfect, and still striving toward an ideal. Maybe that's why I can't stop watching. Yes, the matches are entertaining. The skill is extraordinary. The drama keeps me glued to the screen. But what really has my attention is seeing the world reflected back at me. I see nations competing fiercely while demonstrating what is possible when people from different backgrounds unite around a shared purpose. I see diversity not as a threat to national identity, but as part of its evolution. And I see a simple game reminding us that before we are citizens of any nation, we are all members of the human race. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think there's another match starting.  What is one thing that consistently brings diverse groups of people together? A place where strangers gather, cheer, groan, celebrate, and commiserate as one. A place where people proudly wear the same colors to show unity and loyalty. A place where belonging feels natural and safe. If you haven’t already guessed, I’m talking about sports. The topic came up recently while spending time with friends. A shared love for the same team was discovered, and before long they were discussing statistics, favorite players, and memorable games. What began as a casual conversation quickly deepened their connection. What is it about sports that can unite complete strangers? It feels almost magical. You might assume neighbors would naturally find common ground. After all, they share fences, streets, and communities. Out of all the places they could have chosen to live, they ended up in the same neighborhood. Yet many neighbors never really get to know one another. We often treat the people living next door the same way we treat the person sitting beside us on an airplane—we politely pretend they aren’t there. Sports, however, seem to break through those barriers. According to HuffPost Sports, “Sports help us build strong relationships and foster a sense of unity. Throughout history, we have seen how sports can transcend cultural and geographical boundaries, creating connections that might not have been possible otherwise.” There is a lot of truth in that statement. Sports bring together people from different races, religions, cultures, and backgrounds. Successful teams are built on a common goal, requiring individuals to work together despite their differences in pursuit of victory. For spectators, sports can also break down cultural barriers. International competitions allow fans to celebrate their own teams while learning about the countries and cultures of their competitors. In the process, sports help foster a sense of global community. Sports also teach respect and sportsmanship. Athletes are expected to respect opponents, officials, coaches, and the game itself. Some athletes even use their platforms to advocate for social justice and lend their voices to those who may not otherwise be heard. Soccer is my sports jam. As a season ticket holder for the Portland Thorns, I like to arrive well before kickoff. It gives me an opportunity to witness the community engagement and sportsmanship that often happen before and after the match. Players greet one another, shake hands, and occasionally exchange jerseys—a tradition seen more often in international competition. At the conclusion of the game, they once again acknowledge their opponents, thank the referees, and then walk around the field expressing appreciation to the fans. That always feels like a magical moment to me. Children who participate in organized sports experience lessons in teamwork, respect, diversity, and sportsmanship from an early age. Imagine what our communities might look like if we continued to nurture those same values off the field. I believe we share far more in common than we sometimes realize. Building connections with neighbors, co-workers, and community members takes a little effort, but the rewards can be significant. Not every shared value can be displayed on a jersey, hat, or sports flag displayed in front of a home. Sometimes discovering common ground begins with a simple introduction, a genuine conversation, or an act of curiosity. The magic of sports reminds us that connection is possible. Perhaps if we approached one another with the same openness we bring to cheering for our favorite teams, we might discover a little more shared humanity—and maybe even a little magic. #portlandthorns  I was thinking recently about the slang words that were popular when I was growing up. As a Gen Xer, I still use some of them: totally, dude, bummer, sick, and dope. It got me wondering about today's slang. Based on a quick Google search, there are quite a few options. Maybe I'm showing my age, but I feel like I need to provide a definition every time I use one. Here are a few examples: Period (or periodt) is used to emphasize that something is final—discussion over, end of story. Chopped bluntly describes something that looks bad. The ick refers to a sudden feeling of disgust or loss of attraction toward someone. And the infamous 6–7 seems to communicate a feeling of being just okay—not quite good, not quite bad. There are many more, and some seem especially connected to how we communicate through social media and texting rather than through everyday conversation. In fact, how do you say periodt out loud? American culture also has regional slang that depends on where you live. Growing up in Southern California, "that's live" was popular in my social circle. Live meant good, exciting, or awesome. In Hawaii, there is pidgin, along with the use of guys as a familiar, non-gendered way to address a group of people. In the South, you might hear y'all. In Pennsylvania, someone may refer to a jawn, while in Hawaii you might hear da kine. Both essentially stand in for "that thing" when the exact word escapes you. The use of slang and regional language can sometimes create communication breakdowns—or even conflict. I remember a family member from Hawaii sharing that a complaint was filed against them after they addressed a mixed-gender restaurant staff in Oregon as "guys." Would y'all have been better received? Hard to know. When I hear something unfamiliar, I try to stay curious and seek more information. That becomes especially important when we feel offended, excluded, or misunderstood. Assuming negative intent without fully understanding the context can create problems where none were intended. The words matter. But so does our willingness to understand what others mean by them. Humans have always created their own versions of language and meaning. Looking at slang across the decades is like examining a linguistic mosaic—each generation leaving behind clues about its values, experiences, humor, and culture. Feels pretty rad to me.  AI. Even the Pope is jumping into the conversation and offering opinions. If your job hasn’t already been replaced by a robot, you may either worry about being replaced by automation and intelligence or are trying to convince yourself that AI can never replace the work you do. When automation was introduced to the factory floor in 1913 by Henry Ford, it replaced entire shifts of workers. However, the first known automation device was introduced in 1764, the Spinning Jenny, to assist the textile industry. In 1947, transistors kickstarted the electronics age. In 1961, the first robot stood side by side with a factory worker. In the 1990’s, computers predominately aided manufacturing. And today, we see the rise of AI, driving both factories and other industries worldwide. Considerations for early automation included increasing safety and reducing repetitive motions for humans. Automation brought the work to the employee with conveyor belts, reducing the time it took for completing the task and increasing productivity. There was a cost to all this automation. The initial investment was immense, the demand for maintenance and training of technicians could be costly, and networked systems increased cybersecurity risks. Behind these risks was also opportunity: new industries to build the automation, specially trained technicians and the rise of IT security personnel. The human experience was also integral to the success of automation. Automation required human support and adaptation. Industries that included human stakeholders at the table were able to thrive and navigate the changes more successfully. Examples of these discussions included decisions about the types of automation, addressing the impact to the community, planning for the implementation process and the re-training of workers, as well as anticipating unforeseen challenges. In theory, this shouldn't be any different for today’s evolution into AI. While individuals and professions worry about the loss of employment or viability in the future for their career, impacts to communities seem to be the larger impediment to the growth of AI. AI requires a tremendous amount of resources to operate. Water, electricity, and harmful impacts to the environment are top concerns from the communities where data center projects are being proposed or have already been built. This is where the human experience becomes critical in the conversation about the current trend in automation. It’s no longer about an assembly line; it is about the capacity to critically think and receive constructive feedback. To ultimately have autonomy in our identity about the work we do, and the things we believe are most important to us. This may include our family, our community and the future. AI is not a critical thinker. AI is not concerned about the impact of data centers on communities. AI isn’t thinking about the future of it’s great-grandchildren. AI is not your friend, significant other, or someone you can really trust. AI operates based on the information that a human feeds it whether it is you or some unknown data feeder that doesn’t know you or even share your same values. AI has its value for humans just like the Spinning Jenny did in 1764. The Spinning Jenny created more opportunities for humans; it didn’t diminish human needs. AI is diminishing the human experience by creating fear (loss of career, identity, work opportunities), destroying communities (polluting water, increasing demands and costs of electricity, replacing farmlands), and being developed without clear benefits and costs to most humans. The success of the human experience and AI is dependent on having multiple stakeholders at the table making decisions about the future of AI and data centers. This is happening in some communities, and I have colleagues facilitating those conversations. Yes, it is slowing down the rapid development of a potential data center. Yes, it will probably increase the costs for the data center. Yes, the data center may choose to not build in that area. Given the long-term impacts of a data center, this sounds like smart planning. This is putting the human experience first because the reality is that AI capabilities, just like automation on the factory floor, tends to bring value to a small percentage of the stakeholders; the ones who will financially benefit from reduced costs and greater productivity. We don’t really need AI. Humans are already experiencing, providing or receiving the “benefits” of what AI is trying to replace. It tends to be inequities in accessibility to those benefits that creates different experiences. As a society, we can generally agree that when something “fixes” a problem that provides a societal human benefit (i.e., vaccines for polio or measles, seatbelts in cars, stop signs and signals) that the benefits will outweigh the risks. Polio no longer exists, measles is no longer a public epidemic, injury after a car accident is reduced, and drivers can safely enter and exit intersections. But AI replacing the expertise of your doctor, the creative mind of a poet, the emotional intelligence of a mediator, or the local knowledge of a taxi driver, I would question the value and need of replacing the human experience with a thing that has no heartbeat, empathy, or accountability. Further, AI cannot provide real relationships because AI isn’t human. Are we willing to prioritize the human experience? Where we create space for the messiness, differences, multiple voices, expertise, values, and need for autonomy and connections that can only be experienced as humans? Reference: https://www.sohoify.com/did-automation-start-in-manufacturing-guide/  Key Takeaways from the SW Washington SHRM Conference
I recently volunteered at the SW Washington SHRM Conference and had the opportunity to sit in on several workshops and keynote presentations. One takeaway from the conference is that HR is a complex and evolving profession. My biggest personal takeaway, however, was how deeply the themes shared by the presenters intertwined with the work we are doing at ADR Group NW. The first keynote speaker, Julie Devlin, spoke about change and the importance of building systems that allow people and organizations to pivot and thrive through adversity. She encouraged attendees to consider the perspectives of those who seek support from HR and offered the prompts: “I will change the conversation in my workplace by _________” and “I will change the conversation with myself by _________.” One statement that stood out was her encouragement to “let go of yesterday’s thinking” in how we manage people today. The second keynote speaker, Luke Goetting, expanded on that message by exploring the realities of working across generations. With four generations actively working together and millennials now representing the largest segment of the workforce, communication styles and workplace expectations continue to evolve. His message reinforced that adapting our communication styles and considering the needs of those we lead and work alongside are essential to building stronger relationships and supporting long-term organizational sustainability. One workshop, led by April Allen and Shawna Unger, focused on “Conflict Hooks” — the actions and behaviors that can create dysregulation and feelings of disrespect. Imagine the impact teams could have if they openly discussed individual Conflict Hooks and practiced techniques that support understanding from another person’s perspective. The benefits are significant: increased trust, stronger collaboration, greater productivity, and improved psychological safety. For more than 25 years, ADR Group NW has supported individuals, organizations, and communities in transforming adversity into opportunity and collaboration. The conference reinforced that the challenges facing HR professionals today are real — and they are also opportunities for growth. At ADR Group NW, we help organizations create safe spaces to explore the “why” behind conflict and workplace challenges while developing the skills and systems needed to navigate change, strengthen collaboration, and foster inclusive workplaces. How might your workplace change if people felt more understood, psychologically safe, and equipped to navigate conflict collaboratively? |
Sunny Sassaman
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