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The biggest crisis facing young Americans today is a lack of purpose. They wander through life weighed down by hopelessness, convinced the future isn’t worth fighting for. They can’t afford basic necessities because of rising costs and stagnant wages. They’re told they’ll never have homes. Marriage and kids are, for many, out of the realm of possibilities. And to make it all worse, the climate doomers say they won’t have a future because climate change will suffocate us all.

The emptiness many young people feel today is profound, and originates from multiple sources, but one especially stands out: climate doomerism, the belief humanity is on an unstoppable march toward destruction, has become a defining feature of our generation.

The story told to millions of young people is the planet is dying, the system is rigged, and the future is lost. When that message becomes the moral framework for a generation, what hope is there?

If you dive into books or articles on building great organizations, you’ll find no shortage of frameworks, models, or operating systems. I’ve studied and used pieces of nearly all of them for about a decade now. But none quite fit the kind of organizations I’ve worked in: organizations created to solve big problems and create lasting impact.

After a decade of leading organizations, I’ve come to learn that every healthy and effective organization is built upon four foundations – Impact, Talent, Operations, and Ownership. And when these foundations are built well, they allow every corner of the organization to fire on all cylinders.

For the first five years, our organization operated without written values.

At first, it didn’t seem to matter. We were small, close-knit, and aligned by instinct. But as we grew, the cracks began to show. Departments started working in silos, communication broke down, turnover climbed, and morale slipped.

Our culture wasn’t toxic; it was just undefined. In many ways, it was accidental instead of intentional.

That tension finally pushed us to sit down as a team and define who we wanted to be, and how we wanted to work together.

Over the last few months, we’ve implemented something new across our leadership team: an organizational scorecard. It’s a simple idea, but it’s already changing how we operate.

Each week, our department VPs and I review and update a simple matrix of the organization’s most important metrics – the drivers that tell us whether we’re on track or not. We look at things like membership growth, events, fundraising, employee happiness, and a few other criteria. Nothing too complicated. Just a single, living scorecard that we update every week and apply an “on track” or “off track” label.

The purpose of a scorecard isn’t to add more reporting. It’s to keep the most vital indicators front and center. When you track these weekly, you can effectively predict the future. You start to see problems before they happen.

One of the reasons I struggled in Spanish class was that I often confused the past tense with the imperfect tense. They looked similar, sounded similar, and both referred to the past… but they weren’t interchangeable.

Strategy and tactics are like that. Easy to confuse, but they play very different roles. It’s a common mistake, and I experience it often.

Think of strategy as the destination and tactics as the directions.

A good strategic goal should be simple and brief:

Increase brand saliency with Gen Z
Diversify donor base across three new geographic regions
Create a strong culture with above-average retention rates

The tactics are in the weeds: partner with Gen Z influencers, host fundraising events in X, Y, and Z cities, launch monthly employee surveys.

A quick gut check to help differentiate the two:

• If changing it would shift the overall goal, it’s the strategy
• If changing it would leave the goal intact but change how you get there, it’s a tactic

Strategy sets the direction, and tactics are the steps. If you and your team aren’t clear on the difference, you’ll end up debating details when you should be defining goals.

Imagine you’re in a race with competitors flanking you on both sides.

After the starting pistol goes off, there’s a strong temptation to keep an eye on them. You want to see how fast they’re going, whether they’re gaining ground on you. But the more you look, the more you lose your own rhythm and risk stumbling behind.

I’ve seen the same thing happen to organizations and individuals alike. They have competitors – or peers – that they can’t stop keeping an eye on. Maybe it’s FOMO, or just traditional fear, but with every bit of ground a competitor seems to gain, there’s a risk of losing focus on your own lane.

Competitors exist, of course. Awareness is smart, but constant reaction is not.

You need to know your space and who’s in it, but you also need to establish your lane and own it. Someone else’s path is not the path for you. Comparison often disguises itself as clarity, but it usually leads to distraction, loss of direction, and even resentment

Run your own race in your own lane.

I was listening to an interview with Sam Altman, CEO of OpenAI, who recently said that in the age of AI, we’ll start valuing different types of people – not just those with the right answers, but those who know how to ask the right questions.

That’s always been true in leadership. The best operators, managers, and strategic thinkers don’t start with great strategic plans. They start by asking good, important questions.

What are we trying to solve here?
What would make this simpler, faster, more scalable, or more valuable?
What does success here look like?
If this fails, why will that have happened?

Like Altman, I am a techno-optimist. While the development side of AI is still very closed off and expensive, access to the fruits of that development – the knowledge – is super affordable and accessible.

The people who can ask the right questions – whether to their AI or to their teammates – are those who I believe will truly excel in the coming decades.

Bonus: Some good questions that managers should ask themselves every week.

Every organization lives with the risk of someone being “hit by a bus.”

What happens if your development director, programs manager, or events coordinator suddenly disappears? For most orgs, the answer is chaos.

That’s because critical processes live in someone’s head, not in a shared place. There isn’t a playbook, a checklist, or documentation in sight.

A lack of process documentation isn’t just a risk for the worst-case scenarios, but also for common ones: someone quits, goes on leave, or changes roles. In those moments, you can be stuck scrambling to piece together how things worked, falling behind for months.

People leaving the organization is inevitable. It’s sad when they’re someone who does so much, but it doesn’t have to be devastating if you document the process.

Some tips for process documentation:

• Start with the recurring tasks: Anything that happens monthly, quarterly, or annually – think reports, events, renewals, or donor touchpoints efforts – is worth documenting.
• Use a format that fits: Paragraphs of text about how something is done is rarely the best approach. Whether it’s a checklist, timeline, screen recording, flowchart, or simple bullets, make the format fit the process.
• Record the who, what, and when: Ownership and timelines around each step are just as important as the step itself. Who do you work with to do that thing? When does it happen? Capture those details.
• Perfection isn’t the goal: When you start documenting, don’t focus on making it perfect – it can be messy and a little incomplete. Get a draft, then refine it over time.
• Store it somewhere central: For most process-related info, my org uses Confluence as a “wiki,” but any platform works as long as everyone has access and knows where to find it.
• Update regularly: Processes change from time to time. Set a reminder to take a look at your process documentation and update them as needed.

One of the most common issues I see in management, especially with early-career employees, is a struggle to stay organized and manage time well.

I have empathy for it because I was the same way. In college and my early career, I bounced between to-do apps, note-taking systems, project management tools, paper journals, and weekly planning templates. It wasn’t until my late 20s that I landed on a system that not only worked, but that I could actually stick to.

Personal systems take time to develop. And they should be deeply personal. You can’t just adopt someone else’s setup and expect it to work without modification. Everyone’s wired differently. What clicks for me might drive you crazy – and vice versa.

When we talk about personal systems, we often think of task lists and calendars. But it’s broader than that:

• Macro tracking for fitness or nutrition
• Personal reviews and reflections
• Goal tracking
• Morning routines or end-of-day resets

All of these systems help us stay on track, but ask anyone who uses one and they’ll tell you they are tough to master. Good systems take time to create and refine, and they should make your life easier, not harder. If you’re constantly fighting to maintain it, it’s the wrong one.

If you’re still figuring it out, be patient. Experiment, reflect, and adjust as needed. The goal isn’t to get it perfect; it’s to get something that helps you show up for yourself and others consistently.

The great Stoic philosopher, Marcus Aurelius, said that. And I forget it all the time.

Like when my partner loads the dishwasher in a way that makes my eye twitch. After all, I’ve spent almost a decade figuring out the most optimized way to load the dishwasher, and they’re throwing dishes in there like it’s a trash bin.

This is how I’m wired – and I know it’s not always easy to be around. But I value order and systems. I like things done with care, done efficiently, and done right. And I hold myself to that standard.

A problem arises, though, when I hold others to this high standard. I expect people to think the same way, act the same way, and have the same general mindset. And, surprise, that leads to way more frustration than contentment.

When I get too rigid about how others should operate, I’ve noticed that resentment begins to creep in. I start to feel frustrated and silently hold people to expectations they never agreed to. I get annoyed when they don’t approach things the way I would.

That’s not leadership. That’s immaturity. And it’s something I wanted to share that I’m working on in case anyone else relates to this dynamic.

The Stoics got it right – focus only on what you can control – even if that’s easier said than done.