So... I left a board meeting quite literally on two wheels. You know that professional trot we do when we’re late but still trying to look composed? That was me, except I looked less like "executive in control" and more like "escaped intern carrying office supplies."

I had a laptop bag, a tote full of leadership handouts, company pens, snacks (because apparently, I have a deep fear that I'll starve in the next 2 hours) and in the chaos, I tossed my brand-new, never-before-worn high heels onto the roof of my car. I don’t know why. Maybe I thought the roof was a temporary staging platform. Maybe I blacked out. Leadership fatigue is real.

I pulled out of the parking lot feeling accomplished… for about 12 seconds.

Clunk. Clunk.

I heard it before I processed it. One heel. Then another. I glanced in my rearview mirror just in time to watch my gorgeous heels splayed across the street. Cars were swerving like I had dropped live grenades. One driver actually did a NASCAR-level maneuver to avoid a stiletto.

I threw on my hazards, executed an illegal U-turn (that I will deny if asked under oath) and went full Mission: Impossible to retrieve my now asphalt-kissed footwear. As I scooped them up, multiple drivers rolled down their windows, not to judge, but to CHEER. Folks were literally applauding me like I had just completed an Ironman for Women Who Don’t Have It Together But Are Trying Their Best (I compete in this race everyday, by the way. Haha!).

And here’s the thing: those heels were no longer brand new, and my dignity was also slightly scuffed.

I got back in the car, looked at the shoes, laughed out loud, and drove straight to teach a leadership class on engagement, developing others, and emotional intelligence. Naturally, I opened with the story of how my heels had just taken flight.

And you know what? They leaned in. So, here it goes: Leadership Lessons, Courtesy of My Fallen Footwear

-Engagement doesn’t come from perfection. It comes from humanity. Nobody bonds with your highlight reel. They connect when you show up with a story about accidentally staging a shoe-based obstacle course on a public roadway. The room changed the second I led with real, not rehearsed.

-Emotional Intelligence means laughing before shame arrives.

In that moment, I had a choice: embarrassment… or entertainment. I chose comedy. Emotional intelligence isn’t just about reading the emotions of others. It’s having enough awareness to manage your own meltdown with grace (and hazard lights).

-Developing others means modeling recovery, not flawlessness.

If I want to teach resilience, then I have to demonstrate it. It’s not “never mess up.” It’s “mess up, recover, and wave to the people cheering while you pick your stilettos off the asphalt like roadkill.”

-When you carry too much, something is bound to fall.

Literal and metaphorical. Whether it’s heels, priorities, or your peace, if your hands (and schedule) are overloaded, something will hit the pavement. The lesson? Put things down with intention before life knocks them off the roof.

So yes, I taught a class on leadership while holding road-burned heels like evidence from a crime scene. And it was one of the best sessions I’ve led, not because I showed up polished, but because I showed up real.

Perfection may inspire admiration, Imperfection inspires connection. I will take connection ANY day.

And if my humiliation on Highway Whatever helps one leader loosen their grip on perfection, then let the heels fall where they may. #HeelsOfHumility #IfTheShoeFitsCheckTheRoof #EmbraceTheClunk