Years ago I chose nursing as my career path. It taught me how to understand people, navigate chaos, build systems, trust my judgment, and care deeply without destroying myself in the process.
Then I became an entrepreneur.
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I’ve always been entrepreneurially minded, as evidenced by my multiple business endeavors, most notably the wildly successful little scrunchie company I ran in sixth grade.
When I graduated high school and went to college, business seemed to be the natural fit for my degree path. That said, every time I tried to sign up for business classes or to formally change my major upon completion of my core credits, it didn’t feel right.
One of the most powerful lessons life has taught me is to trust my intuition. “Trust your gut, she knows what’s what.” Business made sense on paper, but every time I moved toward it, something in me pulled back. Nursing was different. I couldn’t necessarily explain why, but it felt like the direction I was supposed to go. So I listened. I was disappointed to think that owning a business might not be in the cards for me, but I chose nursing anyway.
CHAOS NEEDS SYSTEMS
Have you ever managed a chaotic situation? Think about how it made you feel. Now imagine clocking into it for 12 hours.
You now have a glimpse of the emotional burden of the nursing profession.
My years working at the bedside taught me how to manage chaos really well. Not just for the sake of my own sanity, but to increase my capacity to care for my patients.
I remember the absolute worst nursing job I’ve ever had. On paper, it was a great opportunity. In real life, it most definitely was not. I cried before every shift. I’d spend my breaks praying for strength and help to get me through the experience. I was not okay, but I knew I was right where I needed to be.
The workload was relentless, and I quickly realized that if I was going to keep up without compromising my patients’ care, I needed a better way to manage it. So I created my own system for organizing and tracking patient information, what nurses often call a “nurse brain.” Nurses at that hospital are still using it today.
I went through hell and brought back buckets of water for those following after me.
As a business owner, I would never create an environment that would make someone cry before they came to work. I work hard to put systems in place so no one, including me, loses their mind trying to do their job.
When something repeatedly requires heroics from good people, the people aren't the problem. The system is.
When something goes wrong, the instinct shouldn’t be to dwell on blame. Figure out what happened, fix the immediate problem, and then ask whether a process needs to change so it doesn't happen again.
NOT EVERYTHING THAT IS IMPORTANT IS AN EMERGENCY
I remember my first code. I was working in the ER when a gentleman we were caring for went into cardiac arrest. We tried to resuscitate him, eventually bringing his wife back while we continued working. We kept going much longer than we normally would.
Eventually, we had to call it. He was gone.
The image that stayed with me wasn’t his death. It was seeing his wife sitting on the floor of the ER, swaying back and forth in grief. That day solidified something I would learn again and again: hard things can happen in spite of everything we do to prevent them.
So how does that apply to business?
You can prepare, work hard, do everything correctly, and sometimes the outcome still just sucks.
If everyone is breathing and no one is bleeding out in any given scenario, it’s a problem, not an emergency.
PEOPLE AREN’T DEMOGRAPHICS
I freaking love people. That is part of what drew me to nursing in the first place. I love talking to people and hearing their stories and even their worries and fears. I love laughing with them. I love feeling like I’m making a difference in their lives.
Over the years, I’ve learned how to read people and respond accordingly. But I always leave 5% wiggle room for people to surprise me.
I had the honor of meeting one of my favorite patients I have ever cared for in jail.
No, I wasn’t incarcerated. I was actually working as a booking nurse.
A gentleman was my next patient, and as he walked up to my station, I started taking him in. He had the little Snoop Dogg dreads going on, lots of tattoos, and a limp. Based on hundreds of prior booking interactions, I thought I had a pretty good idea of what kind of interaction I was about to have.
On the way over to my station, one of the corrections officers was a jerk to him. He got mad but kept his cool. As he sat at my desk, I asked him if he needed a minute to find his zen.
“Guuuurrrrrllll.”
Over the course of the booking process, I learned that he had recently been diagnosed with HIV and had broken up with his partner because he was afraid of exposing him. He had chosen instead to walk the road of his diagnosis alone.
How wrong was I.
This taught me to trust patterns without becoming beholden to them.
Marketing requires pattern recognition. Demographics can be useful. Customer data can be useful. Personas can be useful. But the second you become convinced that the category tells you everything you need to know about the person, you've stopped paying attention to them.
TRUST YOUR GUT
Following my gut has led me to some pretty incredible experiences.
I remember I was doing rounds as a new nurse, and I saw a light go on over a patient’s room that wasn’t under my care. I felt like I should go see what they needed.
When I walked into the room there was a little old man who needed some assistance. I took care of his immediate needs, and then felt compelled to sit with him.
He recounted the most incredible stories from his life, including his time as a sailor aboard the USS Indianapolis (look it up if you’re unfamiliar). As a nurse, I’d been taught to be skeptical of wild stories, but this gentleman had the medals to prove it.
What an absolute honor.
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Had I gone straight into business, I would have missed this education entirely. I suspect I would have been more crass and results-driven, more interested in which processes produced which outcomes. Instead, I spent nearly twenty years learning what happens when those processes collide with actual human beings.
All this came to me in spectacularly inconvenient packaging courtesy of my nursing career.
And then I built Ruby.
For most of my life, nursing and business looked like two completely different roads. It took me nearly twenty years to realize they weren't.
All those years ago I thought my gut was telling me not to go into business.
Now I realize it may have told me to go learn how I actually wanted to do business.
