The Worst Advice I Ever Got Early in My Career (and Why I Refuse to Pass It On)

Early in my career, a managing partner pulled me aside and offered what he clearly believed was hard-earned wisdom.

Life, he said, is a triangle:
work, friends, and family.

All three can’t ever be in balance at the same time, so you should pick two, and accept that the third will be neglected.

At the time, I nodded.

I was young. Ambitious. Eager to prove I could handle it. It sounded pragmatic. Grown-up. Realistic.

In hindsight, it was terrible advice.

Not because life doesn’t involve tradeoffs.
It absolutely does.

But because this framing quietly teaches something far more damaging:

That neglect is inevitable.
That neglect is acceptable.
That neglect is the cost of success.

Why that advice stayed with me (and eventually fell apart.)

The triangle metaphor sounds tidy.
Clean edges. Clear constraints.

But real life does not behave that way.

That advice assumes:

• Balance means equal effort at all times
• Prioritization automatically creates casualties
• Work is fixed and non-negotiable
• Relationships and personal responsibilities will stretch indefinitely

None of those assumptions survive adulthood.

Life has seasons.

There are weeks where work demands more.
Days where family needs more.
Moments where something unexpected blows up the entire plan.

The idea that one area must be sacrificed misunderstands how people actually live.

It also confuses tradeoffs with neglect.

Choosing to focus more heavily on one area for a period of time is not the same thing as abandoning the others.

Neglect is what happens when silence replaces intention.

What this looks like in real life, not theory.

Recently, someone on my team shared a snapshot of her week.

Her husband was traveling for work.
She was managing two small children solo.

And in the middle of all of that, her French bulldog ate a tampon and had to go to the emergency vet.

If you’ve ever owned a dog, you already know where this is going.

She had to call her nanny back to help, because managing an emergency vet visit with two young kids alone was simply too much.

And the part that mattered most wasn’t the dog. Or the logistics.

It was the weight of it all.

The feeling that everything was happening at once, and she was barely holding it together.

She was overwhelmed.

This is the moment where bad leadership advice does real damage.

Because the triangle model would suggest she needs to decide:

What gets neglected?
Her job?
Her kids?
Herself?

Pick one.

That framing is not just unrealistic.
It’s cruel.

Why I can relate deeply to this moment

I am a working mother.

I am also the sole income for my family.

That is not because my husband is a stay-at-home parent by choice.
He is physically disabled, which adds complexity to both caregiving and income that many people never have to consider.

It means there is no easy “tag-out” option.
It means work is not just a source of purpose, but a necessity.

And it means balance looks different when your household already operates with constraints that most systems are not designed for.

I know what it feels like when the margin is thin.
When there is no second adult who can simply step in.
When life does not pause to make things easier.

Most of the time, people are not asking for less responsibility.

They are asking for:

Understanding.
Flexibility.
Trust.

They are asking not to be punished for being human.

How I would manage this as a leader

If someone came to me in this situation, my response would not be to talk about balance.

It would be practical, grounded, and human.

First:
Acknowledge reality.
This is a lot. Anyone would be overwhelmed.

Second:
Focus on outcomes, not optics.
What actually needs to get done today, and what can wait without consequences?

Third:
Offer flexibility without guilt.
Shift meetings. Adjust the day. Reduce pressure where possible.

Not as a favor.
As a normal response to real life.

And finally:
Check in later.

Not to audit productivity, but to make sure the person is actually okay.

Because support that only exists in the moment is performative.

Real support has follow-through.

The advice I give instead

I do not believe in telling people they must choose which part of their life to neglect.

I believe this instead:

• Life will be uneven and that is not failure
• Clear communication prevents resentment
• Consistency matters more than intensity
• Trust goes further than control

You cannot maximize everything all the time.

But you can honor everything without abandoning anything.

The promise I make as a leader

I will not pass on advice that normalizes burnout.

I will not frame exhaustion as a rite of passage.

And I will not pretend that work exists in a vacuum separate from the humans doing it.

Leadership is not about forcing impossible choices.

It is about building systems where people can handle the inevitable chaos of life without feeling like they are failing at all of it.

That advice stayed with me for years.

Not because it was wise.
But because it took a long time to realize it wasn’t.

Outgrowing it was not a rejection of ambition.

It was clarity.

Meanwhile…

If your dog ever eats a tampon (and yes, I say this as a dog mom myself), you will learn very quickly that:

• Emergency vets speak in calm, terrifying sentences
• Dogs feel no shame, only curiosity
• And “foreign body ingestion” is not a phrase you expected to say before lunch

You will cancel a meeting mid-sentence.
You will Venmo a nanny without blinking.
You will stare at your calendar and whisper,
“Not today.”

The work will still get done.
The kids will still be fed.
The dog will live.

Life will not look balanced.
It will look unhinged.

And if you have the right boss, they will not question a single choice you made.

They will tell you to log off.
They will insist you go to the vet.
They will remind you that the dog comes first.

Because leadership isn’t about pretending life doesn’t happen.
It’s about agreeing on what matters when it does.

Which is how you know the triangle theory was wrong all along.