A theme that came up across almost every coaching conversation I had this past month was the elements of the Drama Triangle.

My coach first introduced it to me last year and it’s one of the most powerful frameworks and mindset shifts I’ve made in awhile. It also extends well beyond my work life.

The Drama Triangle maps three roles we cycle through in conflict: Victim, Persecutor, and Rescuer, each one keeping us stuck and the drama alive. I could keep explaining it but watching this 3 minute video is much more comprehensive and enjoyable.

The role that hit closest to home for me was Victim.

Growing up, I thought resilience meant weathering whatever happened to me and making it through. Aka surviving. What I didn’t realize until the past few years is that there’s a flip side, and its not just something that’s more productive, it feels a lot better too. It’s called Creator Mode.

Creator mode = instead of things happening to me, I’m actively creating circumstances, solutions, and the world I want for myself.

Having this framework in my toolkit, I can now tell, in real time, when I slip into Victim mode: with my tone, my language, my demeanor, my spirit.

Victim mode has a particular weight to it. Creator mode is lighter.

Here’s why: building something is easier than resisting something.

It’s like swimming with the wave instead of against it.

I wish I had this framework years ago.

Recently I’ve been shuffling it around to clients and colleagues.

And maybe, this is landing at a good time for you too.

Happy Creating!

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Things I Stacked

I shared some more BTS about how I’m using AI to more smarter and how I create and coach others to build the conditions for success

And I loved this piece by about how to measure qualitative product feedback in a creative, quantitative way.

Elena's Growth Scoop

How I built a new composite qualitative metric - The Lovable Score

Growth teams love metrics they can screenshot in a dashboard…

Read more

a month ago · 95 likes · 12 comments · Elena Verna

Culture Clicks

Barreled through 📺 Company Retreat and absolutely sobbed at the end. Heartwarming, courageous and perfect, no notes. I’m rejoicing since there’s now a ✐ Midi Crossword in the NYT Games app. I’m always amazed at how many people are playing the main Crossword on my commute to work. I finally tried 🥯 Apollo Bagels and yes the hype is real. The sourdough bagels do hit differently. I’ve been keeping it simple with the Tomato and CC and omg, it’s fantastic. 🌯 Sahadi’s Industry City makes such good make to order food and they’ve got music, outdoor space, fun and vibes! NYers, this is your yearly reminder to go have an Industry City day. 👚 I haven’t taken this zip up off since I bought it, and its on sale, you’re welcome. 🔖 And a harrowing tale, the new way relationships to end… 🎶 Everyone’s1 talking about new Tom Misch and Jack Harlow and James Blake and with Harry Styles new album, it really feels like moody boy spring is blooming.

Substack clicks

I’m Jori Bell, VP of Core at Hampton and a coach for Product Leaders. Learn more about my coaching practice here.

Last year, I listened to Rachel Lockett on Podcast. It’s an episode that I still think about, a lot.

She talked about what she calls your “gifts,” the things you’re naturally good at, and how when people operate from their gifts, they have more energy. She coaches people to aim for spending 80% of their time in their gifts. Eighty percent. 👀

And she made a fantastic point that stuck with me: it’s no one else’s job to help you live in your gifts.

• My first reaction was: that sounds aggressive.

• My second reaction was: what a challenge, I wanna live in the 80%!

• My third reaction was: wait, do I even know what my gifts are? And are they the same as what I think of as my superpowers?

But the more I sat with it, the more I realized Rachel is actually conflating two different things. She uses "gifts" to describe both the things you're really good at and the things that give you energy. And I think that's a critical distinction she glosses over. Because being good at something and being energized by something are not the same thing. They overlap sometimes - hopefully they do! But sometimes they don’t. And when they don't overlap, things can easily break down.

Just because you’re good at something doesn’t mean you enjoy doing it. And if you don’t enjoy doing it, it’s really hard to sustain, even if you’re excellent at it.

Disclaimer: I recognize this is a privileged outlook. Not everyone gets to optimize for joy. But, the work of identifying your superpowers and distinguishing them from your flow state is actually really important information to hold.

Because when things go sideways, you need the language to understand why. Does this sit within my superpowers? Or does it sit within my flow state? Or neither?

I figured this out almost by accident.

February 6, 2023

When I left corporate, I did a lot of internal work as I started my coaching journey. I got really clear on the things I was good at and learned to articulate them. I also got clear on the things I enjoyed so much that they kept me in my, flow state. I personally define my flow state as something I could work on to no end because I’m just having so much fun doing it. This happened last month for me.

You don’t know what time it is.

You’re not watching the clock.

You’re just in it.

But there was a specific day that made all of this click.

I was in the middle of a rough chapter. And on February 7, 2023, I had a day that felt distinctly different from the days around it. Because I was struggling so much, I was able to pick my head up and say, whoa that this day was different.1

So I got curious. What was different about today?

I started to pull it apart.

• I got a really good workout in that morning.

• I got a ton of fresh air.

• I went to lunch with someone in person and we ended up talking about a creative idea.

• I went home and stayed up late brainstorming the creative idea, something I was really lacking and needing in my life at the time. I was texting friends, doing research, sketching it out, just because I was having so much fun.

And I was like: this is my flow state. I’m in deep discovery mode.

How do I orient my life so that I’m in deep discovery mode more often? How do I create circumstances where this happens?

But I also realized something else. The workout, the fresh air, the in-person connection, the creative conversation: those weren’t the flow state itself. Those were the conditions that made the flow state possible.

Three things, not one

Here’s where I’ve landed on. There are three distinct things:

Superpowers. These are the things you’re objectively good at. The skills people come to you for. For me, that’s facilitation, leadership, communication, operations, product thinking. These are real, demonstrated strengths. But being good at something doesn’t mean it energizes you. I love to lead. I hate operations.

Conditions. These are the environmental and lifestyle inputs that prime you for your best work. They’re not the work itself. They’re what sets the stage for great work to happen. For me on that February day, it was physical movement, fresh air, in-person human connection, and a creative conversation. When those conditions are present, I’m a different person. Days I wake up early and workout put me on a path to greatness, always.

Flow state. This is the thing you enjoy so deeply that time disappears. It’s where your energy is exponential. For me, it’s deep discovery mode: brainstorming, ideating, researching something new, going down a rabbit hole because you’re genuinely excited about where it leads. It’s not just something I’m good at. It’s something I could do forever. This was the weekend I really discovered Claude Cowork. Also any time I’m mixing music..stream me.

How to figure out yours

Knowing these three things are different is step one.

Actually identifying them for yourself is step two.

Here’s how I’d approach discovering each one:

Finding your superpowers. Ask five people who know you well: what do you come to me for? What am I better at than most people? Write down what you hear. You’ll start to see patterns. The important thing is to notice how you feel about each one. Some will make you light up when you read them. Others will make you think, “yeah, I’m good at that, but I kind of hate doing it.” That gap is the whole point. Circle the ones that drain you. Those are superpowers.

Finding your conditions. This one requires paying attention to your best days. Think about the last time you had a day where everything just clicked. Now work backwards. What happened before the work? Did you exercise that morning? Did you have an in-person conversation? Did you sleep well? Were you outside? Did you eat a real meal? Start tracking this. For a week or two, at the end of every good day, jot down what the conditions were. You’ll start to see your pattern. Mine became clear on February 7, 2023, but only because I was paying attention to the contrast.

Finding your flow state. Think about the last time you completely lost track of time doing something. Not Netflix. Not scrolling. Something where you were actively engaged and didn’t want to stop. What were you doing? Were you building something? Solving a puzzle? Teaching someone? Brainstorming? Writing? Now zoom out: what’s the underlying activity? For me, the underlying activity was deep discovery, going from zero to one on an idea. That’s the flow state. Name it. And then ask yourself: how often does my actual job put me in this state? If the answer is rarely, that’s important information.

Now use it

Once you’ve done this work, you have a diagnostic tool. When you’re stuck, when you’re unmotivated, when you’re not performing at the level you know you can, you can figure out which lever is off instead of just grinding harder or blaming yourself.

Ask: Am I in my flow state right now, or am I just executing a superpower? Have I set up the conditions that make flow possible today? When something feels hard, is it because the task is outside my superpowers, or because the conditions aren’t right?

And here’s the real challenge, the one Rachel Lockett planted in my head: what would it look like to spend 80% of your time in your gifts?

I still think that sounds aggressive.

But it reframes the question entirely. It’s not about working harder. It’s about knowing yourself well enough to design your work around the things that give you energy instead of drain it.

And that’s your job, not anyone else’s.

Identify your superpowers. Set your conditions. Chase your flow state.

I’m Jori Bell, VP of Core at Hampton. I’m also a Coach for Product Leaders. If you’re looking for support, drop me a note, I’d love to connect. 🤝

We talk a lot about how AI makes us faster. But, most of what I see out there is theoretical. A lot of people talking about the potential of AI. Not a lot of people showing you what it actually looks like in practice. I’m semi guilty of this, too.

So let’s get tangible.

Over the past month, I delivered two intensive workshops for my team. I have another one coming up. Each one required a custom plan, original materials, facilitation guides, material preparation, and real-time adaptation between days.

I’ve done many of these in my career. They’ve taken extensive planning and support.

This time: I did all of it by myself. And I think I did it really well.

When I stepped back and looked at what made these workshops work, I realized the answer was two very different things.

1. The first is what AI helped me do: how it let me operate at a capacity I didn’t think was possible for one person.

2. The second is what AI could never do for me: the facilitation craft I’ve been building for years that made the actual time in the room productive.

AI CANNOT DO IT ALL. But you do need it to be a better facilitator.

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What AI helped me do

A year ago, running even one well-produced two-day workshop solo would have buried me. Creating materials from scratch, running it, processing everything that happened on day one, and then rebuilding materials for day two, overnight, while still having energy to run it? Daunting stuff.

So here’s how I did it by myself with an AI tech stack.

The Stack: Claude + Granola

I primarily used two tools: Claude and Granola. I also used Wispr to dictate. That’s it.

To give you a sense of what changed, here’s what producing a single two-day workshop used to look like for me:

• Building the agenda and session plan from scratch: 2-3 hours.

• Creating facilitation guides, handouts, and printed materials: another 3-4 hours.

• Synthesizing day one and rebuilding materials for day two: another 2-3 hours, partly because I’d be deciphering sticky notes in other people’s handwriting.

• Then post-workshop summary and action items: another 2-3 hours.

That’s 10-13 hours of logistics work per workshop before you count the time in the room. With my AI stack, each of those steps takes less than an hour including creation and editing.

The whole thing comes in under 4 hours.

That’s 10-13 hours, down to 4 hours.

How I did it

Granola became my starting point. Before I built a single agenda, I used Granola to record the conversations that shaped the vision for each workshop. Using recorded meetings enabled me to connect the dots between disparate conversations, to go back and pull out the threads, and put together a clear vision for each workshop.

Claude became my planning partner. Once I had the vision and the goals, I brought everything into Claude Cowork to produce material output. Claude helped me move at a pace I’ve never experienced. Not because it did the thinking for me, but because it was able to collate all my raw materials and package everything I’d spoken out loud into a clear plan.

Then here’s what would happen every day:

• I used Granola to record every single session.

• Each night, I’d take everything from the day (the Granola recordings, my handwritten notes1, the observations I jotted down) and feed it back into Claude.

• Then I’d create a package: a summary of what happened to adapt materials for the next day.

• Every single morning, I walked into the room with a fresh facilitation guide, updated handouts2, and a plan that reflected what actually happened the day before.

The time reduction was not a marginal improvement. It was a fundamentally different way of operating.

The Bonus: I Got to Participate

Here’s the thing about facilitation: it’s really hard to facilitate AND participate. You’re managing the room, watching the clock, reading body language, adjusting on the fly. There’s very little space left to actually be in it.

This setup changed that for me. Because the logistics were handled so efficiently, I could be more present. I could contribute my own perspective instead of just holding space for everyone else’s.

All in all, I ran two really well-produced, well-run two-day workshops by myself. No co-facilitator, no assistant, no production team. Just me, Claude, Granola, and a printer. And I have a third one on deck.

But here’s the thing.

The tools got me to the room prepared. But they didn’t make me good once I was in it.

That’s something AI could never do…

What AI could never do for me

AI can make a lot of things easier but it can not emulate or teach me how to be a better facilitator.

The craft of facilitation, the actual skill of being in a room with people and holding space is (still) entirely human.

And it took me years to build.

There’s no single thing that made me a better facilitator. It was a collection of experiences that shaped how I do it well.

Teaching at Cornell Tech

A few years ago, I taught product management at Cornell Tech for a year. At the time, I thought I was there to teach students.

[insert cliche lesson] —> Turns out, they taught me just as much.

Standing in front of a room of opinionated graduate students forces you to be clear. You can’t hide behind slides. If your explanation doesn’t land, forty pairs of eyes will tell you immediately. Teaching gave me my foundational facilitation reps. Those reps showed up in every single one of those workshops.

Coaching: Trusting the Container

My coaching practice changed me in ways I didn’t expect. I got into coaching because I loved the work. Not to build a business, but because something about holding space for someone else’s growth lit me up. But the deeper lesson from coaching wasn’t about asking good questions. It was about trust.

In coaching, you learn to trust the container. You’re not there to be smart or impressive or to prove your value. You’re there to serve the person in front of you. And that means getting your ego completely out of the way.

That mindset shift was massive for facilitation. When I stopped needing my clients to validate me, , everything changed. My clients got richer conversations and I saw better outcomes across the board.

Improv: The Secret Weapon

And then there’s improv. I started taking improv classes a couple of years ago and I didn’t expect it to fundamentally rewire how I show up… everywhere.

But it did.

Improv teaches you to listen. Like, actually listen.3 It teaches you to build on what someone says instead of redirecting to your agenda. “Yes, and” is wildly underrated in professional settings. When a participant says something unexpected in a workshop, my improv brain kicks in and I can roll with it. Some of the best moments in these workshops came from unscripted detours that I had the instinct to follow rather than squash.

Improv also taught me to be comfortable with silence. To not rush in and fill every gap. That’s harder than it sounds, trust me.

The Whole Picture

Teaching gave me reps. Coaching taught me to trust the space. Improv gave me confidence. Claude and Granola gave me capacity.

None of these things alone would have been enough. But layered together? They made me the kind of facilitator who could run three two-day workshops in a month and feel like each one was genuinely great.

AI tripled my efficiency. That’s real. But it only mattered because I had spent years building the skills that no tool can replicate: facilitation.

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I’m Jori Bell, VP of Core at Hampton. I’m also a Coach for Product Leaders. If you’re looking for support, drop me a note, I’d love to connect. 🤝

My theme du fortnight started to emerge soon after. I saw this…

And I read this: What You Miss When You’re Always Wearing Headphones. (The writer describes riding a subway train where nearly every passenger is ears covered, tuned out. They argue that we’ve built a culture that encourages us to turn away from the world, and that the refusal to hear what’s around us has become a new form of ignorance. And how they eventually decided to retire their headphones from public life altogether.)

When our second snowstorm hit last month3, I ventured out in the storm like last time, encountering cheerful neighbors eager to make small talk during this collective moment. A jaunt around the block was filled with waves, small talk and friendly niceties that never happen on a normal day. It reminded me of Dog Lady on Halloween. That collective NYC spirit.

It’s left me longing for more collective spirit and I don’t want to have to wait for a big city moment, a snowstorm, a holiday, a marathon, to connect with the people right in front of me.

I realize I’m part of the problem4. I put my own walls up by ensuring I have a podcast or music plugged in, or a phone call to make, while shuffling around the neighborhood or commuting to work. How can I tap into a collective spirit, a smile, a conversation, if I keep myself in my protected little bubble?

So I’ve been experimenting…which, has been uncomfortable: going headphone-less around the block, on the commute, all in an effort to connect with people in smaller ways.

Maybe that discomfort is related to the same fear that led 2% of people to unsubscribe to this newsletter when I wrote with excitement about the speed and human replacement elements of AI.

The pace at which everything is moving is terrifying. But as my friend Craig noted at dinner the other night: embodied presence is irreplaceable.5

Sure, we’re scared of what’s to come, but we don’t do ourselves any favors by blocking ourselves out from the world. It’s completely on us to maintain a collective human spirit.

This is your monthly consideration: go headphone-less on your commute, resist the phone call on your walk, and maintain a sense of quiet first thing in the morning.

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Things I Stacked

I considered optimization and of course, AI, this month.

Culture Clicks

📺 I’ve been wanting pop-up video to come back so I don’t have to be on my phone the entire time I watch Love Story. Reality Check was really of a time. 🎵 This new Toy Tonics album is pure joy. Plus, a delicious Purple Disco Machine takeover, here. 🐶 I’ve never seen Leo get more attention than when wearing this sweater. 🍔 New Trader Joes’ frozen favorite. Still thinking about the burger at Liar Liar and the Boquerones at Eel Bar - both places that have gotten even better on the second visit.

Substack clicks

Happy March. We’re almost there, people who celebrate sprint :-)

I’m Jori Bell, VP of Core at Hampton and a coach for Product Leaders. Learn more about my coaching practice here.

Over the past two weeks, there’s been something in the air.

Was it those Claude ads? Was it that viral X post,“something big is happening,” that everyone shared and then everyone had an opinion on? Was it my founders incentivizing us to use AI more? Was it my coach hijacking our session to start with this topic?1

It was all of the above.

And then some.

I’ve used ChatGPT religiously for over a year. To partner with me on writing. To challenge my strategy. To ideate. To take my dictated voice notes, my written post-its and white-boarding sessions and put them into clean documents.

It’s been an incredible partner to me.

But I’ve never veered into prototyping. The vibe coding of it all. Which is kind of ironic, because as a product person you’d think I’d be an eager beaver to build independently.

What is vibe coding: Most simply put, vibe coding is a way to prototype and build web apps, sites and tools using written prompts. What previously took technical engineering and design skills can be built with written prompts, like “build me a workout app that tracks my reps and sets.” More on this workout app below…

Anyway, this weekend I got into vibe coding.

I started using Claude Cowork, and I kind of can’t stop.

At Hampton, I’ve been working in a very niche problem space for the past eight months, evolving and developing new materials, working with limited data to make decisions and roll out materials to hundreds of customers. And I've been doing this with a mishmash of different tools, as I always have.

This weekend was the first time I realized: “Holy shit, I can do all of this in one single place… if I build it.”

And so I did.

I spent about six hours building a basic front-end app that serves as a visionary prototype. I stayed up late on Friday. I woke up early on Saturday, simply because I was so excited to keep going (and I kept hitting my limits2).

Here are three things I’m realizing as an amateur vibe coder who’s late to the game3:

1. Having a product background gives me a leg up.

I’ve worked in Product for over 15 years. I know the language. I have basic product, design and engineering principles locked in. Therefore, I know how to prompt quickly because I’ve spent years building websites, apps and more. And because I’ve spent years doing this over and over again, it’s all second nature to me - which gives me a lot more language to use when building a front end. It’s a head start, for now.

2. Having the raw material was necessary for me to move as quickly as I did.

I didn’t use Cowork to build raw materials from scratch, although I’m sure people could. I created all the raw materials over the past eight months. What I did was use the raw materials to make what I was building highly interactive. It basically took a ton of static pages and made them dynamic. Cowork quickly learned what I’m trying to do and started using my raw materials to develop on top of what I gave it.

I know this is terribly vague and while I’d love to share screenshots, its not ready for public consumption.

3. My moat is my ability to exploit these tools.

I am notoriously terrible at being new to technology. I don’t like watching YouTube videos. I don’t like reading manuals. The beginning of learning new technology is painful. But what I’m realizing is that my ability and willingness to sit in the pain - to figure things out uncomfortably - will be my moat as a knowledge worker. And my ability to exploit these tools, to move quicker, to do things that I need to do without waiting on anyone else - that’s my competitive advantage.

The tools are available to everyone.

Dare to hop on the learning curve.

What does it all mean?

Who could pretend to know.

What’s obvious to me: people with clarity on their own requirements, what jobs they actually need done, are going to start abandoning all the different software that’s trying to be everything in favor of building the exact thing they need.

Here’s what I mean.

• I’ve been trying to find a workout app that tracks my workouts the way I want. Nothing quite fits. I’ve been using ChatGPT to build workouts from my personal training and physical therapy recommendations, hosting them in my iPhone Notes app, iterating back and forth. What if I just... built my own app that does exactly what I want?

• Same thing with shopping. I’ve been saving things I want to buy in Notes, running them through ChatGPT to figure out what goes with what, and where to find it all at the best price. Again, all this raw material, cobbled across tools. What if I just built an app to do the thing I actually want to do?

• One of the most painful things about starting my coaching business was hobbling together Squarespace and Google Drive and PaperBell and a dozen other tools. i documented the process here. Not one of them did everything. But now I’m sitting here thinking: “Wait, I can just build exactly what I need, with the exact requirements I want.”

What feels non-negotiable after this weekend is introducing yourself to these tools. Not just because they’re fun (they are so fun, though), but because they are going to be the differentiator between you and another knowledge worker.

Rolling up your sleeves and familiarizing yourself with what’s happening right now is going to be necessary.

You can either wait until you have to, or you can read a little post like this and be inspired to start today.

I’m Jori Bell, VP of Core at Hampton. I’m also a Coach for Product Leaders. My coaching practice is full this quarter but if you need coaching recommendations, reach out.

When I reread it, it sounded a little… self righteous? Not overtly. More that I can tell I am trying very hard to convince myself I’m good, un-optimized. But by evening, I was crying about how out of control I actually felt. Ironic really.

I had many more people than normal, close friends and strangers, reach out with things like same and wow, I feel this. The topic drove immediate solidarity. And it made me realize I hit something very sensitive for a lot of people. Self / life optimization… the way we are trying to optimize our lives, often in ways that isolate us or make us unhappy, is not just a me problem. It’s universal.

Later that evening, my husband pointed me to the latest Ezra Klein episode ft. . Priya wrote The Art of Gathering1 and her episode with Ezra touches on optimizing in the context of gathering and hosting. She spoke about how we wait for the perfect setup, the perfect house, the perfect vibe, the perfectly controlled situation before we let ourselves bring people together. Timely.

Intellectually, I know you don’t need the perfect setup. But recently, and unintentionally, I’ve stopped having people over because my inside space isn’t “right.” I actually love to host. I have a great outdoor space for it. I do not have a great indoor space for it.

I have basically been waiting for my space to be more optimized before I let myself gather people I love. Writing that sentence makes me sad.

Listening to Ezra and Priya talk about this gave me both permission and grief. Permission to stop waiting for optimization. Grief for how long I have been waiting for optimization.

We live in a moment where it is incredibly easy to optimize everything. You can track your sleep. Your calories. Your workouts. Your steps. Your focus. Your mood. You can build a dashboard for your entire existence. And, if I manage enough variables, I will finally get to this frictionless version of life and be happy. As I said in my original post, control breeds control. And control is not the same thing as being alive.

It all brought me back to this night in Savannah, Georgia…

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We only had one night there, so of course I did what I always do. I researched intensely. I picked the top rated restaurant to optimize my meal. And guess what?

It was terrible.

Not subtly disappointing. Comically bad. The atmosphere was weird the second we walked in. The waiter was rude. The couple next to us looked like they were actively breaking up. The whole room felt off. And the food was terrible.

I was devastated. We had one night in Savannah, and this was the meal.

I was fully in my head about wasting the night, being angry at myself for making the wrong choice. Classic me.

Fortunately, my husband played the opposite role in this scenario. He started laughing at the absurdity of the whole thing. He said, “At least we’re getting a story out of this. Which is even better and more long lasting than a good meal.”

He was right.

That night is way more vivid in my memory than the dozens of perfectly nice, perfectly chosen, perfectly forgettable meals I have optimized my way into. Thinking about that night still makes me laugh.

Most of the time, I do pick a great restaurant2. And I couldn’t tell you much about those nights. But I can tell you a lot about the night I got it wrong. And I think a lot about the lesson of that night a lot. When things go wrong, as they often do.

All of these tools and systems and apps leave less and less room for things to go wrong. Yet, things going wrong can kind of be the point.

When I got out of my head with disappointment, I got into the moment to appreciate the absurdity of the restaurant.

I think that’s what un-optimization really is. Letting go of the fantasy that control is the same thing as a good life.

The bad restaurant is the story.

The imperfect house is the coziest.

The thing you did not plan for is the whole point.

Keep calm and un-optimize, people.

I’m Jori Bell, VP of Core at Hampton. I’m also a Coach for Product Leaders. I have one more open coaching spot this season—if that sounds like something you’ve been craving, reach out.

An unoptimized life

A week ago, it snowed for twelve continuous, magnificent, icy, all consuming hours. While the snow plows1 barreled through my tiny neighborhood, I was enthralled with the precipitation. Outside, brave souls suited up to experience snow peaks forming in real time. The busy streets of Brooklyn numbed to a hum as everyone hunkered down around toasty fireplaces and savory crock pots.

The first day of a snowstorm is the best.

Since this magical day, it’s been bone-chilling cold. The kind of cold I was sure to have escaped from2. It’s been “sleep-in-sweats-under-a-blanket-with-the-heat-on” kind of cold. The kind that turns soft snow peaks into hard ice peaks overnight.

Those ice peaks have a secondary effect: they deny New Yorkers their god-given right to jaywalk.

If the snow wasn’t shoveled last week, it froze. Sidewalks narrowed. And suddenly, commuters were forced into “single file lines” like middle school kids.

If you’re anything like me3, not being able to navigate the NYC streets with ease is infuriating.

I choose which subway car to get on because I know which is closest to the exit.

I order my coffee two stops ahead of where I get off so I can quickly scoop it on my way to work.

I’ve got it down to a science.

So, the days I’m shoved into a subway car that’s far from the exit, on the days that the wifi doesn’t work, on the days that the snow forces me into a single-file line….I’m deeply inconvenienced. Maybe irrationally so.

But what if inconvenience is part of the point?

Recently, I stumbled on a piece about cohabitation. It was a compelling article and argument for communal living that most people in their right mind would never agree to. But hidden in the words were nuggets of wisdom:

“Relentless enhancement of experience does not usually bring inner peace. Avoiding minor annoyances becomes addictive, and it can lead to a life perfectly optimized to our preferences, all alone.” - Your Social Muscles Are Wasting Away

I felt…called out. 😳

Because I do a lot of optimizing. I carry an unconscious belief that control brings inner peace. That if I plan well enough, stand where I need to and cross the street before the walk sign comes on, I’ll avoid inconvenience and thus, be calm. And happy.

But control doesn’t bring peace. Control brings control.

A life perfectly optimized to my preferences alone would definitely be smoother. But it would also be smaller and, probably, uninteresting.

The aftermath of this week’s storm - the ice, the cold, the single file lines - was a reminder that I’m not in control. And maybe that’s the point.

Stay frozen out there.

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Things I Stacked

I wrote about focusing on solving real problems and the differences I’ve found in building products in Big Tech vs. Startups.

Culture Clicks

DRAMA is one of those bands that I’ve loved for a long time. I went to one of their shows at Brooklyn Paramount and they are just an absolute bop. They just released a new album. Harry’s coming back soon 🥹.

Industry is back with an edgy vengeance and I couldn’t be happier. I’m using Queer Eye Season for cathartic crying sobbing. And I’m reading Stranger, a cutting divorce story, to rock me to bed every night. Give me emotion, what can I say.

Update: Something from Nothing is getting close to being my “most cooked cookbook” ever. Plus, we’ve made these tacos a few times and, they’re so damn good.

Finally, I want to shout out Smart Wool base layers. Between Chicago and New York this month, I wouldn’t be where I am (still cold, but not as cold) without you. 😘

Substack clicks

I’ve thoroughly been enjoying my Substack feed. It’s giving early Twitter, even early Instagram. Here were some favorites this month…

I’m Jori Bell, VP of Core at Hampton. I’m also a Coach for Product Leaders. I have one more open coaching spot this season—if that sounds like something you’ve been craving, reach out.

Six months ago, I reflected on my early experiences at a startup. This piece is an abstraction of that piece. Broader than the story of one company, there are bigger cultural changes that fundamentally alter how product work gets done when you move from big tech to a startup.

In fact, there are endless differences between the two. Beyond the clichés about speed or scrappiness, there are deeper shifts that are hard to prepare for. It’s one of those things you have to experience first hand.

So here goes: these are five of my lived cultural differences.

This one goes out to to the big tech PMs who are startup curious. And for the product people that made the shift well before me…what’d I miss?

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1. Imperfect customer data forces you to lead with intuition

I highlighted this in my piece from a few months ago, but to no one’s surprise, startups live on imperfect data. Which means product people end up leading much more with intuition, or product sense, than they might be used to.

Pause for the weirdly ambiguous term product sense that gets slapped onto product interviews. To me, product sense = having strong instincts about what matters, paired with a relentless orientation toward solving real problems.

I’ve only worked at one place with the kind of data companies dream about1. The reality is most companies, including big tech companies (which people are shocked to hear!), have far more imperfect data than people assume.

What happens is that a lot of people wait on perfect data. And, it becomes a reason not to move. That waiting is expensive and time consuming.

Right now, I’m working in one of the most subjective data environments imaginable: I’m designing a product centered on a subjective human experience. I own a product that can produce polar opposite reactions depending on who you are. You could argue that’s an ICP problem. And you could argue that humans are an unpredictable, unique species.

Regardless of the product, startups just have less data. Especially quantitative data.

So, I’ve leaned far more heavily into qualitative data than I ever did in big tech. I use basic pattern recognition and simple customer interviews to listen for problems rather than solutions. I’m constantly checking myself that I’m not validating my solutions, but rather, listening intently for what I’m not seeing.

Hiding behind perfect data isn’t an option. When you’re at a startup, you have to move forward with what you have. It’s sharpened my instincts. And it’s helped me move quicker, leaner and more confidently than when I had a lot more quantitative data. And honestly, I don’t miss perfect data anymore.

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2. Releases get radically smaller

I’ve always championed building incrementally. As you can imagine, startups take that idea and turn the volume all the way up.

When I first started, I’d present a timeline and my founder Joe would say, “Great. Let’s cut that in half.”

It was jarring. And…I realized there was an opportunity to be descoping more relentlessly. (Always Be Descoping…)

I’ve been lucky to work on teams where we did this kind of precise trimming before, slicing user stories by end-user value. But we made that happen with mature agile practices and a lot of agile coaching.

At a startup, you have to challenge yourself and your team to peel back layer after layer and ask a harder question: what is the slimmest possible v1 that still delivers value? At a startup, there’s a greater expectation that your project has been descoped rigorously.

Being at a startup has been a forcing function for stronger grooming and better sequencing. It also means we don’t get to build most of what we want to build.

That’s not a failure. That’s quite literally the point.

This Johnny Ives quote, one I’ve shared before, plays in my head weekly if not daily. And it’s become a bit of my mantra being at a startup.

Focus isn’t just saying no. It’s passing up on great ideas you’re eager to pursue in favor of the ones that align with your strategy.

3. You build the plane while flying it

Truthfully, this has been one of my hardest shifts.

At big companies, product rollouts are carefully orchestrated. I used to sit on status updates with 10+ attendees walking through massive GTM checklists. Those meetings were comprehensive but heavy.

At a startup, you are building and flying the plane at the same time. Which is, in reality, a massive change management challenge. There aren’t quarters to wait. You’ve got to move, now. I’ve compared it to an overactive operating system that needs constant updates.

Yes we use pilots and experiments but more often we are making changes to a product on a Friday that get rolled out to our customers the following Monday. The speed can be disorienting, chaotic and stressful, to say the least.

When the lifecycles are so short, the most important thing to do is to preserve optionality. I wrote about the concept of two-way doors, ironically, the month I started at Hampton.

One-way doors are irreversible; two-way doors let you try something, then pivot back if needed. One way doors are limiting, two-way doors preserve optionality. And IMO they’re strategic.

When you’re moving fast, two-way doors must be maintained because you have to assume that what you build today may change tomorrow. It’s when trust and intuition reigns supreme. From your customers. From your team. From yourself.

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4. Build what you need, because no one else will

Most blatantly, the luxuries of big tech simply don’t exist at startups. At a startup, you need agency. You need to be the kind of person who sees a gap and feels excited, not resentful, about building what’s missing.

You have to stop talking about doing the thing and actually do the thing.

You don’t have a leveling guide? Make it. You need more support? Create a hiring proposal. You need a policy for a situation that’s never arose before? Time to get drafting.

Living in big tech world felt like riding with the training wheels on. There were processes, teams, people and precedent to help you navigate the trickiest of professional or personal situations. It was equally comforting and limiting.

Flipping that notion on its head, the ways to succeed at a startup aren’t to assume precedent but rather that you’re excited and eager to break ground on something new for the company. It’s a constant game of “what got us here, won’t get us there” mentality. It requires a certain kind of energy and enthusiasm for developing v1 - from products, to people to process.

If that challenge doesn’t excite you, you’ll 100% have an uphill battle transitioning from big tech to a startup.

I often describe my experience at Audible as feeling like a cruise ship. Turning the wheel - creating real change - was an endeavor beyond my solo control. To pile onto that metaphor, Hampton is a speedboat - maybe even a jetski2. Dodging waves, finding smooth water and lots of influence to shift the direction.

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5. Steadiness becomes a way of being, not an environment

If you’re looking for steady and predictable, startups are not the place. That’s traditionally what big companies promised, though even that promise has eroded in recent years with the advent of AI and tech layoffs that have plagued workers over the past few years.

My word of the year is steady.

For me, steady doesn’t mean smooth waters. Nor does it mean numbing myself to chaos. It means expecting change and using it creatively. It means improvising. Recognizing that something I build on Monday may look completely different by Wednesday, and finding energy in that shift rather than fighting it. I’ve called this, the mess you can’t live without.

This way of operating is antithetical to who I thought I was as a builder. To how I thought I liked to work. And how I thought I moved through the world entirely.

To drive the jet ski analogy home, you’ve got to be ready and excited to surf those waves. If that’s something that sounds scary or draining, a startup likely won’t be a fit for you. If you’re excited, energized and even eager to surf, a startup might be the perfect place to grow your product practice. And…

What I’m also realizing is that none of these shifts are really about big tech vs. startups…They’re really about how you react to any kind of shift - in speed, resources, vision, etc. - and how you can adjust your product practice to new environments.

When there’s no perfect data to hide behind, you have to trust your intuition.
When scope can’t sprawl, you have to focus.
When the plane is already in the air, you have to learn while flying3.
When no one hands you the process, you have to build it.
When change is constant, you’ve got to learn to ride the wave.

Startups don’t just change how you build products. They test your tolerance for ambiguity, your relationship to control and your willingness to act with agency.

I didn’t fully understand these differences until I lived them.

Hey startup PMs, what’d I miss?

Drafted while listening to West End Girl: a portrait of a woman navigating ambiguity.4

I’m Jori Bell, VP of Core at Hampton. I’m also a Product Coach for Product Leaders. I have one more open coaching spot this season-if that sounds like something you’ve been craving, reach out.

Last night, I had the privilege of interviewing a prominent Chicago founder at an intimate event for Hampton members in Chicago. I asked this founder, a serial founder, entrepreneur, and long-term builder, about his business beliefs, investment strategy, views on AI, and how he leads as both a founder and a CEO.

When I pushed him on what makes a good idea and the rise of AI theater1, he reflected back one of my great personal philosophies:

Great ideas solve real problems.

my product heart swooned

Back in 2023, I started teaching at Cornell Tech when AI felt shiny and new. Here is where I noticed the early proliferation of AI theater. So many talented students told me they were building “AI for X.” I was, and still am, something of an AI novice. But I was grounded enough in my product principles to recognize a familiar troupe.

AI is not a product.

It’s an enabling technology.

We’ve seen this movie before. “Web3 for Y” and “NFTs for Z” … AI for X is simply the latest iteration of technology theater.

When a company defines itself as “AI for X,” it’s solution first, not problem first.

What this founder echoed, what I’ve been vehemently been preaching and what the best product thinkers consistently reinforce, is that the strongest ideas begin with real, painful, build-a-company worthy problems. Sometimes, often even, AI enables those solutions.

But it is not where you start.

And its absolutely not the point.

If you are trying to build a moat or meaningfully differentiate from what everyone else is doing, stop framing and naming your company through the lens of AI. AI is table stakes. Frankly, if you are not using it in some capacity, that alone is concerning.

Instead, frame and name your company around the real customer problem you are solving.

As recently stacked, the most important differentiator is not working harder or adopting the latest technology. It is working on the right thing. It’s the discipline of ruthlessly auditing where you are spending your time, energy, and attention. And in this case, that audit starts with the problem itself.

Focus first and foremost on solving a worthy problem.

If you can start here, you’re already ahead.

On persistence

For the majority of my life, I’ve tricked myself into thinking that I know how things are going to play out. Why?

As the eldest daughter, I love being in control.

As a recovering anxious person, worst case scenario planning gives me a (false) sense of peace.

And, as a seasoned product person, I’ve been paid to future jump for 15+ years.

Yet, with all of this planning, what’s the one thing that’s been consistent across my many years of forethought? It’s that most of the time, situations, especially ones I’m most anxious about, play out in ways I never could have anticipated.

Whether I’m dreaming up a beautiful vision or disaster planning a potential conflict, reality plays out in ways that my ruminating brain would have never predicted.

Sitting at the top of 2026, I’ve spent Three! Years! documenting my winding career path, my thoughts on product management, my explorations in the coaching world and the music and food and content that powered me through each season. I’ve stayed deeply committed, persistent, and pushed myself to write, sometimes with growth and business and marketing in mind, but mostly for myself, to ground into the ritual of reflection, sharing and connection.

As 2025 came to a close, I felt inundated with a sense of collective relief, that the year from hell was coming to an end. Globally, and acutely in the US, it was a troubling year filled with hopelessness and fear. Which is why it feels uncomfortable to admit that 2025 was one of my personal best. While I hit many goals, I settled into a type of peace I’ve been striving for for a very long time. I worked to enjoy the beautiful peaks of joy and learned to weather the lowly valleys with more grace and self respect. Unlike the mainstream sentiment, I looked at 2025 as a year worth celebrating, not one I wanted to run away from.

I can feel even more momentum brewing in 2026.

Instead of sharing predictions or setting rigorous resolutions, as is customary in the doldrums1 of winter, I’m going to lean back, with persistence of course, and see what kinds of insights, ideas, connections and word flow evolve naturally as I keep sharing month over month.

Where will you continue showing up persistently in 2026?

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Content 📖

I reflected on 2025 with operating principles that kept me going through the year…

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I’m a fiend for NYT end of year content and this is my favorite newsletter of the year: Good Calls. They curate the best advice readers got throughout the year. What was the best advice you received in 2025?

Culture Clicks 🇯🇲

I was fortunate to spend the end of 2025 in Port Antonio, Jamaica in awe of the people, the nature and especially the music.

I kept Auto Shazam on every evening and in my downtime I ventured down Wikipedia rabbit holes studying the birth of Ska in Trench Town to the evolution of Rocksteady to Reggae, which the world adopted wholeheartedly. I experienced sound from speakers like never before2. Yes we had incredible curry goat patties and jerk chicken3, met incredible locals and vacationers alike but I’m walking away deeply inspired by the sound of the island.

Rafting down the Rio Grande, with Josh, pictured at the top, we were alone with lush jungle sounds and throbbing Reggae beats emanating from the mountain tops. It was glorious. With that, here’s some music to inspire the top of your year…

Khruanbin’s Flight 505 to Kingston Playlist got us in the mood. I love their flight playlists to places like Istanbul, Lagos, Mumbai - they offer good warm ups:

Discovered Jamaican DJs love American 90’s+ R&B…as do I and I couldn’t help myself. Spotify auto playlists could never…

Danced our faces off to Jamaican Dancehall the night before New Years Eve…

And fell in love with artists like Barrington Levy, Tenor Saw, Marcia Aitken … etc. etc. etc.

I’m Jori Bell, VP of Core at Hampton. I’m also a Coach for Product Leaders. I have one more open coaching spot this season—if that sounds like something you’ve been craving, reach out.

I’ve been mulling over however to close out this year on Substack amidst the sea of listicles, year end reports and Wrapped campaigns.

If you’re Substack savvy, it’s easy to see what my most popular posts were. But, what you can’t see is what I learned and relearned this year. Those operating principles feel a lot more valuable to share heading into the new year.

So as the Tik Tokers say, let’s get into it…

1) Aim to spend the majority of your time in your flow state

Ikigai, alignment, flow state, “in your gifts”…whatever you want to call it. You know it when you feel it: work that lights you and keeping you energized.

It’s the type of work that leaves you buzzing after hours, brainstorming late into the evening or early on a Saturday morning because it’s so deeply aligned with how you want to spend your time. If you have the capacity to spend 80% of your time in flow state, in activities that bring you energy rather than deplete you, I’ve personally found that the sky is truly the limit.

Notably, flow state doesn’t just happen.

It comes with deep awareness - do I know where my flow state exists? - and intention - how can I design my work to match my flow states?

It’s something I’ve coached on countless times, but something I had to put into practice myself this year stepping into a full time role again.

It takes discipline to enforce but its magic when you do.

2) Remove linguistic hedgers from your lexicon

Stepping into a leadership role this year, I was cognizant of how to assert my executive presence in my communication style.

With that came the removal of softening language, phrases like “I think,” “I just,” that signaled apprehension and invited debate while I was busy trying to make a confident point.

It was a hard habit to course correct, particularly as a woman, as this lexicon is embedded into my writing, spoken word, and often body language. So, this year, I spent a lot of time unlearning a lot of these default communication ticks that retracted from establishing myself as a thought leader. It turns out words matter, no matter who you’re talking to: a leadership team, a team of direct reports, or even yourself. Making a concerted effort to use words that land confidently will pay off in the long term.

3) Practice writing without AI, often

Tools like ChatGPT and Wispr Flow helped me operate at a speed I’ve never run at before this past year. It’s incredible to see how much I’ve gotten done with the help of these tools. Geeps2, as a I lovingly refer to ChatGPT, served as my research assistant, my writing partner and at times, a quick coach.

The consequence, of course, is that my writing has atrophied. Why? Because I haven’t been forced to really sit and think through my communication in ways I’ve had to before. It’s become too easy to have a machine do it for me.

A few weeks ago, I sat down and forced myself to write a work email from scratch. It was a very strong, well-written argument written without the use of ChatGPT. It was really a killer, beautiful email.

It served as an important reminder to continue to hone use my writers brain, often, no matter how easy it is to get robotic help.

And speaking of getting help…

4) Don’t bowl alone.

No good products are born in a vacuum.

Plus, bowling alone is boring.

Joining a new team this year was a reminder that collaboration isn’t only a way to help manage up, manage out, and manage expectations. It’s a way to more build better products.

This year, I did it in two ways:

1. I brought my team (and you fine readers!) along for my onboarding & learning journey. When I started at Hampton, I was knee deep in research, books, and ideas, doing my best to learn all about the best group experiences. Sharing my experience wasn’t just strategic, it made joining a team more fun and 10x’ed my learning. I’d recommend this approach to anyone starting a new job. Stay transparent and stay collaborative.

2. More recently, scoping out a new product, I tapped my non-normal collaborators to help me with product discovery. It was such an amazing reminder that I never have the best ideas in the room and that I can 10x my ideas when I bring in other voices and perspectives. Solutions get better when we piggyback off of each other’s ideas. Always.
   

5) Champion yourself in authentic ways

Many years ago, I learned the hard way that no one is going to advocate for you but you.

This year, I’ve spent countless hours coaching and mentoring others to do the same: evangelize your work, champion your accomplishments, and communicate your wins to your coworkers like they’re your customers.

Like a strategic politician, keep your language

tight,

repeatable,

understandable.

Don’t be scared to over communicate.

You’re probably under communicating.

There’s a reason that politicians with digestible language and ideas make their way to the top.

A special thanks to those who have been around for a long time and for those who are just discovering this Substack. Writing here has reinvigorated my joy for writing over the past two years, and it means a lot to see that you stuck around to read what I have to say. Happy Holidays!

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I cant stop thinking about this article:

It strikes a chord on multiple levels:

• I’m laser focused on building highly committed peer group experiences, engineering Core at Hampton.

• I’m at my best living in and hosting community.

• I’m obsessed with analog.

So when this article cropped up on my feed I thought…well this is really just a convergence of everything I’m building, living and wanting, right?

And who wouldn’t want this… [as summarized by GPT]

“An impossible-to-get-into club” of six women who have shared “innumerable tears shed, hands held and assurances given that none of life’s difficulties will be faced alone.” Known simply as “Group,” they are “a generically named, remarkably devoted circle of friends.”

For 44 years, they have met “on the second and fourth Tuesday of each month” with “a paid facilitator.” It is “not, clinically speaking, group therapy” but also “not a social gathering.” As one member says, “We are not swapping recipes. This is hard work.”

Group began as “a family-raising effort” built on the belief that raising children and sustaining marriage is “best done in community — with other women walking the same path.” Over time, “what began… became something bigger” and turned into “a gift they gave themselves.”

Attendance is sacred: “There were no ifs, ands or buts.”

Conflicts are worked through because “just like family it can get messy, but we work it out.” When one member tried to quit, “the others would not let her go.”

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There is a radical shift back to basics. Whether its refurbished tech like iPods or DVDs, generational shifts or tech leaders promoting IRL, people are craving analog experiences more than ever. Why? Our screens are burning us out. We’re combatting noise like never before. And we know that social media fuels anxiety and depression.1

There is a global shift back to basics.

And I’m so fking happy about it. To be living it and building it.

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Pieces I wrote

I reflected on work this month with two pieces…

Culture Clicks

I’ve been stalking Fred Again’s 10 week touring journey and I think he is one of the most impressive artists of our time. I loved this video he released above with Ezra Collective.

It’s Alison Roman season, baby. The lentils on the cover of the new book are absolutely deserving of the top spot. Congrats to lentils this season.

I did some amazing NYC eating this month. I hit two bucket list spots at the opposite ends of the spectrum: Bernie’s & Eleven Madison Park. And I found that second times a charm for places like Inga’s & F&F Restaurant, Fausto & Theodora. I was angry the moment I stepped into Liar Liar because it took me so long to patronize it.2

My Wrapped was just wrong this year. Thank goodness for Ben Hixon, an incredible vinyl DJ who’s set kept me discovering new disco all month (like Bumblebee Unlimited: a true one album wonder).

I’m lapping up Pluribus and novels like Flesh and The Sisters. The Eddie Murphy documentary was heart warming and inspired a first time viewing of Beverly Hills Cop. The new Sebastian Maniscalco special had me choking, per usual.

I need more comedy content. We all need more comedy content.

I’m hoping to close out this year with some reflections - sparring you gift guides or fake Wrapped reports.

I hope you have an easy start to your December season.

I’m Jori Bell, VP of Core at Hampton. I’m also a Coach for Product Leaders. I have one more open coaching spot this season—if that sounds like something you’ve been craving, reach out.

I am not one to fixate on the numbers.

But in the spring I had a post go “viral” on LinkedIn. I use the word viral very lightly because it’s not actually viral. Let’s call it locally viral. It was my top post in years i/r/t impressions and engagement.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was a post about AI1. But it was an anti AI post. And I think it was something people needed to hear in that moment.

When I look back on why 300+ people liked the post and 50+ people commented, I believe I tapped into something very real… because, well, I was being very real.

I was genuinely frustrated with what I was seeing then (and now) around how AI is impacting the product function. My authenticity came through and I tapped into something fiery in myself that clearly touched something fiery in other people.

Honestly, I forgot about the post. I wrote it before I joined Hampton.

Last week, I shared learnings from my first 6 months on the job. What feels fascinating, and maybe a little ikigai2, is noticing that the work I am doing now is exactly the kind of work the version of me who wrote that LinkedIn post was longing for. It is as if I spoke something true out loud and then stepped into the reality of it. It feels surreal. Some people call it manifestation.

A job description

What I’m building at Hampton is working. So I’ve sought more support to help me build faster.

A few weeks ago, I poured my heart and soul into a job description for a product person to join my team. It did not read like a typical job description. It felt more like a manifesto or a calling to someone who shares a philosophy and a vision for the future. I was nervous to post it. Would it land? Would people get it? Everyone seems to only want to build AI right now….

It landed. I didn’t see the same “virality” as the AI post, but it had a surprising amount of traction for a job description. I put equal oomph into the LinkedIn post and the top description below:

Part of what I love about working at Hampton is collaborating with Sam Parr, one of our founders and an epic copywriter3. I often find myself going toe to toe with him on language, as we push each other toward sharper, more compelling writing. I wrote this job description with soul. Then, he pushed me farther. I never would have used the word “cult” in a job description at past jobs. That’s why I love Hampton.

So…about the open role…I have some amazing candidates in the pipeline, and that tangent will unfold another day, in another post.

Right now I’m going to focus on something else, something deeper I’m tapping into.

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The lack of human connection

Today I want to reflect on the ripples that came from writing from my heart and the way people responded to it. Because something is happening: Under all our screens, beneath the excitement of AI, the lure of big tech, and the tiny hits of joy we chase on TikTok, there is an emptiness people are carrying around.

Simply put, we are connecting less and less.

I wrote about this in my newsletter a few weeks ago: I detailed a profound weekend in New York City, engaging with strangers and neighbors more than I had in months, maybe years. It was distinct, invigorating and joyous as hell.

And then there is my neighbor and her dog…

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The neighbor with the dog

There is a woman on my block who has never said hello, even though our dogs have greeted each other more times than I can count. Dog people know the unspoken language of those interactions. But in New York City, people stay on the phone, keep their headphones in, and look away while the dogs do the socializing for us.

It’s tragic, really.

Then Halloween came.

I spent the evening handing out candy on my stoop making small talk with anyone who crossed my corner of the sidewalk. I gave out premo candy4, poured tired-looking parents swigs of wine into solo cups, and blasted my favorite music to get people to move their bodies on a windy October night5.

This neighbor with the dog: she came by, light hearted. I beckoned her to grab a few Reese’s because she mentioned it was her favorite candy. We talked for a minute. It was warm and easy. For that brief moment, we felt like neighbors.

This week I saw her again. She avoided eye contact and drifted back into her screen. Maybe she missed me, but dog people know - you remember people’s dogs. I felt the heaviness of realizing this is our default.6

What does that have to do with what I am building at Hampton?

Everything.

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I came to Hampton to lead the Core Group team. On paper, that means helping founders find their groups, supporting moderators that lead these groups and figuring out what creates magic in the room.

I spent my first months drowning in frameworks, books, and suggestions people threw my way. There were infinite ways to engineer these experiences. Infinite ways to make them more complex. But the deeper I went, the clearer it became that the real magic was not in complexity at all. It was in simplicity.

An IRL experience with no phones. Three hours of eye contact, real listening, honest sharing, and people remembering what it feels like to be human together. The tools and structure matter, of course, but they are not what make it work. The connection is.

Spaces like this barely exist anymore. Unless we are lucky enough to have a partner or a therapist or a close friend or family member who creates room for us, most of our days are mediated through screens. We walk down our streets to and fro avoiding eye contact while our goddamn dogs say hello!

Core groups break that pattern.

They hold and withstand a human frequency we rarely access. One many of us actively avoid.

So no, what I’m building isn’t rocket science. This is a return to something we once knew and forgot. In a world obsessed with AI scale and digital everything, choosing to build something analog is almost rebellious. Aside from my historical need to embody contrarian ways of being, I’m authentically obsessed with what I’m building.

I’m not huge on LinkedIn or Substack7. But the messages I am getting from people about that job description. They feel unmistakably true. They are responding to the humanity, not the hype. They saw something in that job description that reached them in a way digital life no longer does.

And that is the clearest signal I could ask for.

Tell me…what’s your best non digital encounter this week?

I’m Jori Bell, VP of Core at Hampton. I’m also a Coach for Product Leaders. I have one more open coaching spot this season—if that sounds like something you’ve been craving, reach out.

penned a piece about throwing out her playbook six months into her new role. I found myself nodding the entire way through. Her post focused on how quickly LLMs are evolving and how that pace forces you to constantly relearn how to work.

For me, that same learning curve has come from joining a startup for the first time. After years in corporate environments like Spotify, Audible, and SoundCloud, this experience has been a complete rewiring of how I think, operate, and lead.

I came in with a deep trough of experience, well-tested systems, frameworks, and processes that had served me well for years. Yet, I quickly realized how much of it didn’t directly translate.

What’s become clear is that my most valuable skill isn’t domain expertise. It’s adaptability: the ability to reorient mid-air, build structure in ambiguity and stay grounded while everything shifts around me.

Inspired by Elena’s post (yes, I even copied her title), here’s a peek at how I’ve had to adapt my usual playbooks: breaking my own systems to move inside a fast-paced business where the people are the product.

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But first….

(running my own ads on my own Substack: cheap, easy, no approvals necessary)

I’m hiring!

I’m hiring for an incredibly unique role on my team at Hampton. I’m a product person who’s focused on delivering exceptional IRL experiences to founders. And I need help. Read more about it and apply here (or pass along!) if this sounds interesting!

Now…back to regular programming…about adapting playbook…

1. Scope of Role Fluctuates

My onboarding plan was outdated before I even started. I joke about that now, but it’s true. Since joining, I’ve taken on new teams, offloaded responsibilities, and watched my role evolve almost weekly. The shape of my job has never been static. While that’s felt destabilizing, it’s certainly interesting - and often energizing. Why? It means the business is alive, and I’m learning to flow with it instead of resisting it.

Resistance causes pain. So flow or bust.

In big tech, I had entire teams dedicated to research, analytics, design, and comms. Now, I’m part operator, part strategist, part communicator - often all at once.

The constant recalibration has forced me to redefine stability. Instead of measuring it by consistency, I now measure it by responsiveness: how quickly I can pivot while still keeping my bearings.

Related reading as I was learning to cope with this:

2. Doing Less With More

One of the biggest adjustments has been letting go of the idea that quality work requires big teams and abundant resources.

In corporate environments, I had access to every specialist imaginable. At a startup, you learn to be scrappy. You experiment more, polish less, and accept that “good enough” often beats “perfect.”

As a recovering perfectionist, its been a hard pill to swallow. Yet…

Working for myself before this role helped me develop that muscle.

It taught me to build without bureaucracy, to iterate without waiting for permission, and to trust momentum over meticulousness. (cut to me in January 2024 wasting months tinkering with a coaching website…)

Constraint can be clarifying: it forces you to decide what truly matters and to pour energy into the few things that will make the biggest difference. Focus is everything…

3. Speed vs. Integrity

Startup speed is real. Especially when you’re working for founders.

In my previous life, I built roadmaps that spanned three, six, or nine months and could defend them with precision.

Now, a single week can feel like a month.

Plans are hard to maintain and even harder to defend. Context switching is high, sprints are shorter, decision loops need to be quicker.

At first, that pace felt chaotic.

But I’ve learned that the roadmap still matters, just in a different way. It’s less about prediction and more about alignment: a north star that helps me decide what not to do.

Ruthless prioritization has become my most important discipline. The tension between speed and quality never goes away. The challenge isn’t choosing one over the other; it’s learning how to honor both just enough to keep things moving with integrity. Again, recovering perfectionist..

4. Data-Informed vs. Data-Driven

Another shift has been in how I make decisions. In corporate environments, I was trained to be data-driven: to validate every choice with comprehensive research, testing, and statistical confidence. The kind of planning that took months.

In startup life, that luxury doesn’t exist. You don’t have perfect data or endless time to gather it. You have patterns, proxies, and instincts.

Being data-informed means trusting those smaller signals: listening to six customer conversations and spotting the trend, making directional calls with incomplete information, and learning to trust your judgment. It’s less about proving certainty and more about moving with confidence. This shift has stretched me in ways I didn’t expect, forcing me to balance intuition with evidence in a more fluid, human way.

Honestly, it’s been quite freeing.

5. Holding the Plan but Keeping It Adaptable

The thing that keeps me grounded in all of this is having a plan, but not clinging to it. I’ve learned that structure provides stability, but rigidity creates friction. My mindset has shifted from “How does this break my plan?” to “How do I incorporate this into my plan?” The plan is no longer a fixed document; it’s a living system that evolves with the work.

And on some days, its evolving hour by hour.

When new or shifting priorities arise, I try not to see them as disruptions but as opportunities to integrate and strengthen the larger whole. Every time I think I’ve built the perfect system, the work asks me to break it again.

It’s completely different than how I’ve always worked.

It’s uncomfortable.

Which means I know I’m growing.

It’s easy to romanticize speed and flexibility, but what I’ve learned is that true adaptability about holding onto your principles while rethinking your methods.

These six months have reminded me that every playbook eventually expires. What endures is how you learn to rebuild it for the season you’re in.

Have you ever had to transform your playbook? Gone from Corporate to Startup or vice versa? I’d love to hear what you did that ushered you through the transition!

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I’m Jori Bell, VP of Core at Hampton. I’m also a Product Coach for Product Leaders. I have one more open coaching spot this season—if that sounds like something you’ve been craving, reach out.

Analog Experiences

On Friday, I placed an early ballot for the New York mayoral race and found myself emotional watching ballot workers whoop and holler for first-time voters. There was an abundance of spirit as voters celebrated fulfilling a basic civic duty.

By early evening, I was on camped out on my Brooklyn stoop, sitting alongside my neighbors, handing out piles of candy to local trick-or-treaters. These were people I shared the sidewalks with every single day yet never have conversations with. We engaged in costume conversation and poured swigs of wine for parents.

Saturday, I posted up at a local coffee shop, spinning tunes for throngs of Saturday foot traffic in Cobble Hill. From 2 to 5, there was a consistent stream of families, couples, friends in conversation noshing on pastries, sipping warm beverages. I had the opportunity to play the soundtrack to their IRL interactions.

In the evening, my husband and I made conversation with a hostess who eventually helped seat us at a coveted restaurant. It was refreshing to get a table this way instead of relying on a finicky reservation app on my phone.

And, well, don’t even get me started about Sunday.

Sunday was the New York City Marathon, the most uplifting day in the city. Merely standing and watching runners brought me to tears. This year, I had the privilege of cheering on brave friends complete the five borough feat. When I wasn’t tracking my friends, I was cheering on Susan who was struggling at mile 8 and John who was needing another push from the crowd. And, when my friend was passing by, my fellow spectators joined in screaming her name to ensure she caught our cheers.

The collective spirit of the weekend was unusual and unordinary. It was electric.

Most days, I find myself amongst the same people I encountered over the course of these three days. Except we’re headphones in, screens shoved in front of our face, shuffling to an fro our destinations in silence. These days were comprised of screenless interaction. Friendly encounters, cheerful small talk and teamwork.

It was New York City at its finest.

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Before I shrivel back into my screen dominated life, I’m thinking about how to carry that energy into November. Maybe I’ll ride the subway without headphones in my ear. Or I’ll compliment someone’s outfit on the street if I feel moved. I might even strike up a conversation with the doorman at work?! The possibilities for in person human interaction are endless. But they’re not default anymore. My personal mission: bring IRL back into the fold and make it default again.

Pieces I wrote

This month I shared a photo heavy piece from the Coaching Corner retreat. It was IRL on steroids. 3 days and 2 nights camped out at a gorgeous retreat center in the Hudson Valley. Minimal tech, lots of face time. It was glorious.

covered the retreat from the community angle on Medium.

And gave us the full peek behind the current on Substack.

I’m hiring!

And again, speaking of IRL: I’m so excited to be hiring for an incredibly unique role on my team at Hampton. I’m a product person who’s focused on delivering exceptional IRL experiences to founders. And I need help. Read more about it and apply here (or pass along!) if this sounds interesting!

Other content I enjoyed

Some Mel Robbins wisdom that everyone needs to hear on repeat…

Scrolling on your phone, as seen through a 5-year-old’s eyes…from

The Performance Plan

So Your Kid Caught You Scrolling.

My son likes to watch me work on my computer at night. Sometimes when I’m “working,” I’m not actually doing my job—I’m just screwing around on the internet. He really loves to watch this…

Read more

6 months ago · 24 likes · 5 comments · Nicole Garelick

#155 AND #156 by

Managing up by - bc I’m doing a lot of this lately.

Ravi on Product

Managing up on high performance teams

About a year ago, the idea of “Founder Mode” burst onto the scene when Paul Graham recapped a talk from Airbnb CEO, Brian Chesky. Brian had followed the common advice to hire good people and turn the reins over to them, but found that layers of management slowed things down and blunted Brian’s ability to steer the company…

Read more

6 months ago · 13 likes · Ravi Mehta

Culture Clicks

I fell in love with Vinyl + Thread in Dumbo 🎵. I want to throw a party there. On the local Brooklyn thrifting front, Front General Store expanded! And Foyer is the best thrift secret in my neighborhood.

Olmo in Bed Stuy transported me to Mexico City. I am so excited to bring my favorite soup recipe back for Fall. I’m wondering why Hale + Hearty had to go? Can we campaign to bring it back?The tahini + grape fro yo at Shukette tastes like Fruit Loops, not peanut butter and jelly.

This candle is transforming our home. To those familiar with the headphone saga, I got Air Pods with foam attachments which was maybe was the secret all along. I devoured ’s Social Skills report.

Finally, leaving you with some smooth then thumpy tunes from my baby DJ set this weekend! Check out Bolo Bolo in Cobble Hill. It’s a vibe.

Happy resetting clocks week on the East Coast!

As the idea took shape, the vision became clear: unplug from your business, deepen virtual connections and be brave together.

What does brave together look like?

Coaching Corner is all about helping coaches deepen their coaching practice and build their businesses, alongside one another. Not with one “right” way, but through a harmonious mixture of perspectives. The purpose of the “Corner,” just like coaching itself, isn’t to get clear answers. It’s to get questions that help you discover the right answer for your coaching business.

Starting a business is scary as hell. So, Braver Together felt like a perfect retreat theme.

And so… coaches descended on Rosendale, NY to practice bravery. To be seen. To be vulnerable. To build resilience not as a business strategy, but as a human one.

The experience was designed with high intentionality: crafted sessions, shared meals and prompts that nudged us into discomfort, space for reflection and room for magic. And also, a ton of dancing.

Still, the experience surpassed my wildest expectations. It became something sacred, surprising, and deeply communal. I’ve been on all kinds of retreats over the years, but this one was different. Partly because I built it alongside my long-term coaching partners. Mostly because coaches carry an ability to hold space and embody realness with effortlessness. And we have the best coaches in Coaching Corner.

To share more about the retreat, I’ll lean on Vincent Su’s incredible photos and pepper in some words of my own. The visuals take the cake.

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Be Real

The first day was all about arriving in this beautiful space. New York was slated for a bad storm, but we hit peak foliage and nestled into the beautiful Lifebridge Sanctuary - the coziest of log cabins fit for reflection.

We opened with a masking exercise.

On one side: draw the mask you wear in the world. Who do people think you are?

On the other side: draw who you really are. How do you long to be really seen?

The conversation was raw and grounded us into day one. Many of us knew one another - through our masks - and the ways we showed up at quick networking events or in virtual spaces. Here, we all stepped into the space and unmasked ourselves for real.

In the evening, we settled into a home cooked meal, puzzling, friendship bracelets, bottles of wine, deep conversations and snacks galore.

Be Brave

Day two was all about practicing what we came here to do: practice being brave. We started with movement in the morning (brave for some) and dropped powerful notes into the Scary Jar (brave for all), all before lunch.

Following lunch, we did what we do best: we Unconferenced.

Back in the spring, and I hosted Coaching Corner’s first Unconference in NYC and it was a hit. What’s an Unconference?

An unconference is a participant-driven event where the agenda is created collaboratively by attendees at the start of the gathering, rather than being pre-planned by organizers. It flips the traditional conference model by encouraging everyone to be a potential speaker and facilitator, focusing on discussions and small group interaction instead of formal, one-way presentations. This approach creates a more flexible and engaging format focused on the immediate interests of those present. - Google AI ain’t so bad

We brought the same format to the retreat.

But instead of quick 30 minute sessions, we hosted 6 luxuriously long sessions that had less to do with the business of coaching and everything to do with feeling good. We danced, we screamed, we played improv games, we talked sex & relationships, we filled in each other sentences, we drew and we walked in the woods.

I led two of the six sessions and man, how I love to lead a group. My husband calls me “camp counselor” Jori. This is the epitome of where I get the nickname from.

That evening, we kept the drinks and puzzles flowing.

Be Seen

The last day, we woke up to sunshine and one more breakfast together. We concluded our time together connecting with the unmasked versions of each of us, experienced through pictures, words and lots of tears.

While there is so much more here to unpack, I’m going to leave you with a quote that landed in my inbox this Sunday as I was still processing the retreat.

Someone sent a meme the other day that said, “Be yourself, so the people looking for you can find you.”

That’s the best thing that being publicly vulnerable achieves. It achieves exactly what the critics say it does: it draws attention to you.

But the attention that it draws comes from those who recognize themselves in the stories that you tell, in the way that you live — and your journey becomes part of their journey, because your reflections help them to see the things that they themselves have been looking for.

- from this week’s Letter to Love

While you may not be a coach, nor may you be looking to be more publicly vulnerable, what’s something a scary thing you can put into your own scary jar this week?

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The biggest of thank you’s to the team at Lifebridge Sanctuary, Chef Zach, Retreat Expert Maggie Blackburn, Photographer Vincent Su, the incredible Coaching Corner members that took a chance on an upstate retreat. And of course, to my two favorite Lius: Connie and Kelly. Look at what we’ve built <3

Hi - I’m Jori and I’m a Product Coach. If you’re Product Leader or on a Product team looking for support - drop me a note.

No rules here

I’ve been thinking a lot about what this Substack is and how its transformed over the past two years. What started as a medium to showcase my work to build a coaching business has morphed into a more generalist space: a girl working her way through a career transition writing with equal fervor about work and restaurant reviews.

I live passionately: from the way I manage a team to how I select the right headphones. And I like to write about it.

I don’t write for clicks, although I enjoy gathering more people to this metaphorical table. I write because crafting a time capsule each passing month feels deeply nourishing. It’s like packaging a period of time in a more distinct way than a journal.

Since making the transition from soloprenuer to startup employee, I’ve felt a lot of pressure to redefine what this Substack is. I feel strongly that when you put something out into the world it should be anchored in a clear purpose. I assume people subscribe because they’re here for product talk. What if they land here and we’re talking about tacos to try in NYC. Will they be disappointed?

I’ve felt pressure (from literally no one) to redefine what the vision for this space is.

This weekend, I attended a day-long refresher put on for Hoffman Process Graduates. I spent my Saturday in the basement of a church while the city pulsed outside with late summer energy. I whooped, hollered, cried and laughed. All in service of reconnecting to myself in the ways I did 18 months ago at my Process. We spent a lot of time doing deep visioning work - looking at all aspects of our life today and the gap that exists between today and where we want to get to.

At the end of the day, one of the teachers shared a Hoffmanism that I’ve been thinking a lot about since he said it Saturday evening:

Vision isn’t about knowing. It’s about being able to see.

It was one of those one liners that stops you in your tracks.

So for today, this quarter and maybe longer, I’m going to worry less about what this space is. Focus on the people who are drawn to it - for product purposes or taco reviews. And focus more on seeing what unfolds. I’ll be giving it room to breathe as I continue shifting into this fresh season.

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Substack pieces I wrote this quarter

I wrote some of my favorite pieces - some in under a day - the past two months:

I’ve shared The Vexing Problem of the ‘Medium Friend’ before and again in my piece Glass Balls, Rubber Balls. It continued to be a big contact driver. I love pieces on adult friendship. Send me your favorites.

I also loved my friend Brad’s exercise: Creating more “best days” from Brad Farris.

And, I keep thinking about the drama triangle - a tool my coach shared with me.

Culture Clicks

I’m hitting lowbrow television hard right now cycling between The Summer I Turned Pretty and Hunting Wives. On the flip, I’m feeling drawn to classic / heavy writing like The Bell Jar, Slouching Towards Bethlehem and The Virgin Suicides.

I read ’s new book, All The Way To The River, in 2 days because 1) I’m a huge fan and 2) she has an important story to tell. Too bad all the press is focusing on all the wrong parts of her story. Relatedly, I listened to Louis CK on Theo Von. Both Louis and Elizabeth struggle with sex & love addiction. Fascinating, different flavors.

🎧 I’m plowing through Hot Since 82’s live sets on Youtube to get me through focus hours. Discovered a new DJ while going to see a DJ I already knew which is always a fun surprise. Absolutely grooving to this mix. But I need new headphones. I’ve reached the end of the road ordering refurbished pairs of Bose Soundsport headphones and I want something exactly like them. HELP! On a better note, I may have found the perfect boxy crop t-shirt in an unexpected place.

🌭 In Park City, we went back to Harvest twice because it was that good. In NYC, I loved Papa San in Hudson Yards, Barely Disfigured in Cobble Hill - what a patio, and Matchaful enjoyed in the Elizabeth Street Garden with my girl . Our family swapped bagels for rye bread from La Bicyclette Bakery for Break-the-Fast and the loaf was a hit. And while this is elevating my everyday eggs, I struggle with eating slop for lunch near my office. Give me something else, corporate America! At least we have Mid Day Squares.

Happy Fall everyone!

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Hi - I’m Jori and I’m a Product Coach. If you’re Product Leader or on a Product team looking for support - drop me a note.

The heartbeat of Hampton, the company where I work, is our Core Groups: small, curated circles of founders who meet monthly to share their toughest challenges, exchange unfiltered feedback and hold each other accountable. These groups are designed to give founders something they can’t find anywhere else, a space of radical candor, deep trust and true peer support. For many, it’s the first room they’ve been in where everyone “gets it.”

As the VP of Core, I spend my days1 studying group methodology, accountability practices, ritual, habit….basically anything that might empower our founders not just to run their companies better, but to be better humans.

Most days I’m talking about how to implement and operationalize new tools across all of our groups. Most nights I’m lying awake wondering: will this work?2 It’s a fun loop, let me tell you.

This week I’ve been navigating a particularly tricky situation: We’re piloting some exciting new things, and we need to make decisions without complete data.

For a former big tech product person, this feels deeply uncomfortable. A true nightmare situation.

For a startup product leader3, it’s just your average Monday.

I imagine my conundrum is familiar, regardless of who you are or where you work…

The more I thought about the problem, the worse it got. Every angle I examined seemed to spawn three new complications. Instead of clarity, my brain served up heavy convolution. The problem actually felt like it was growing, snowballing into something unmanageable. Worst of all, it made me feel awful.

And then, in the middle of that thinking frenzy, I remembered one of the very principles we’re experimenting with at Hampton: Kidlin’s Law.

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What’s Kidlin’s Law?

Kidlin’s Law states: “If you can write the problem down clearly, then the matter is half solved.”

To be completely honest, I’ve had trouble tracking down the true origin of this principle. It was something one of our founders Sam shared with me. I couldn’t pin down a consistent answer to who Kidlin was or where it came from, and it felt irresponsible to cite a principle without a clear source. Another, louder part of me wondered if it even mattered.

Because wherever it came from, I’ve personally found it works.

And so I thought, if I’m out here promoting this principle, asking founders to use it, why wasn’t I using it myself? Classic case of not practicing what I preach.

So I blocked off my morning, put on noise-canceling headphones, and gave myself one assignment: write the problem down. Not solve it. Just write it.

If I couldn’t even explain the problem to myself, how could I ever explain it to my team, let alone lead us to a solution?

So how did it go?

The great news is that writing it down didn’t just clarify the problem. It immediately turned the volume down on my anxiety. By about 100 degrees. Suddenly, I could see truly see the tangle of what was happening instead of drowning in my own ruminations.

Putting the problem into words helped me:

1. Articulate what was really going on.

2. Find a clear way to explain it to myself and eventually to others.

3. Shift into a headspace where solutions were possible.

When the emotional temperature is high and confusion is at its peak, there is no healthy problem-solving. Hell, there’s no problem solving at all.

So yeah, I loved this approach. And since starting the draft for this post, I’ve done it twice.

Writing the problem down works.

And I’ll be using it, preaching it, and coaching it. Especially on the days when my anxious brain snowballs a simple knot into one giant, tangled mess.

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Hi - I’m Jori and I’m a Product Coach. If you’re Product Leader or on a Product team looking for support - drop me a note.

You know how I roll1: if something crosses my desk once, I say interesting.

If it crosses twice, I’m convinced the universe is trying to tell me something.2

Lately, I’ve been getting messages about prioritization.

Which honestly, makes sense.

The scope of my new role at Hampton has increased and my normal frameworks are being stretched. I’m finding it hard to resist overworking, impossible to shed my perfectionism patterns and difficult to model what strategic prioritization looks like for my team.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been testing new processes for my non-tech team: introducing agile sprint planning, team stand-ups and retrospectives. Out of all of it, prioritization feels the most resonant.

I’ll admit, I’ve taken for granted the work I’ve done to refine my own prioritization practice. For most of my career, I wasn’t great at it. I’d fall into the trap of doing small things because they were easy. That quick hit of crossing something off the list feels. so. good.

But, of course, it’s a slippery slope.

With that, the idea that keeps surfacing for me3 is the metaphor of glass balls and rubber balls. It has everything to do with prioritization.

Have you heard of it?

The Glass vs. Rubber Ball Metaphor

The metaphor goes like this:

Imagine you’re juggling. Some of the balls you’re tossing are rubber: they’ll bounce if you drop them. Rubber balls represent the things in life and work that are important, but recoverable. You can drop them, pick them back up, and they’ll bounce back.

Others are glass: if you drop them, they’ll shatter. Glass balls are the things you cannot afford to lose track of. If they fall, the damage is lasting.

The easy part is understanding the metaphor.

The hard part? Knowing which is which.

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My Glass and Rubber Balls

Yes, the hardest part is identifying which is which. And honestly it evolves day by day. If I had to name them, here’s where I’d net out in September 2025.

Glass Balls 🔮

• At work…

  • Retention and churn. Founders at Hampton are the lifeblood of the company and we if don’t have members, we don’t have anything. Anything that severely depletes the membership experience, especially mishaps that impact churn, is a glass ball.

  • Trust & follow through. Trust and credibility are paramount to me. It’s my capital - with customers and teammates - and if I say I’m going to do something, I do it. Even when a task gets blocked, looping back is necessary to preserve my relationships and reputation. When I commit to supporting my team, leaders or colleagues, I treat it like a glass ball to follow through.

  • Clear communications. Sloppy communications kill me. You may know this if you’re a long time reader, because I talk about communications a lot. If you can’t explain yourself in a clear, compelling way, it doesn’t really matter what you build. For me, clear communications is glass ball territory.

• Outside of work…

  • My health - Working for myself, I learned how to identify and focus on the things that keep me physically and mentally healthy. I know that fresh air, creativity, physical activity and in person social connection keep me sane. If I don’t incorporate these into my daily life, I struggle. Glass balls for sure.

  • My most important relationships - These are the relationships that fill you up: the dinners you walk away from cup runneth over and the phone calls that make you wish you lived nearby to the person on the other line. Maintaining these relationships are incredibly important and are total glass balls.

  • Joyful activities - This one’s newish over the past year. It’s easy to confuse fun with rubber ball territory, but joyful activities, especially once that make you laugh, are truly, 100%, absolutely necessary to protect. For me, seeing a live show, practicing with my improv friends, going dancing, playing music are the unplugging mechanisms I need to be at peak performance in life. It’s why I have monthly goals around these glass balls. They are non negotiable.

Rubber Balls 🎾

• At work…

  • Slack Channels - Hampton has an incredible slack community that is really a window into the voice of the customer. Yet, if I spent time comprehensively plugged into slack, day in and day out, I’d never accomplish anything. Instead, I prioritize the channels and people I need to do my job and peruse the other stuff in my free time. Most of slack is rubber ball land.4

  • Massive Projects/Audits - Yes it would be nice if we could [insert big project that really needs a refresh]. Wouldn’t it feel amazing? Dream on, girl. Things that get done, especially in startups are incremental, bite size bits of work that map directly to goals. If you find yourself dreaming about overhauling something massive, you’ve got yourself a rubber ball. Make it smaller to get to glass ball land.

• Outside of work…

  • Medium friends - I could talk about adult friendship endlessly with . Instead, I’ll link to a great piece: The Vexing Problem of the Medium Friend. Medium friends are rubber balls.

  • Networking calls - As a coach, I was a fiend when it came to networking over the past few years. Now, my time is much more limited. While I’d love to meet people in person or spend 30min on the phone chatting, keeping things over email to start makes me more efficient in this season of my life.

  • Things that aren’t a “hell yes” - While I love to channel my inner Shonda Rhimes, Year of Yes, I’m rubber balling things I’m not a “hell yes” about right now. I may miss out on a lot of great opportunities but with finite time, the maybes - shows, books, plan, events, activities - earn rubber ball status these days.

The thing is, what counts as glass and rubber isn’t static.

In a new role, the “glass ball” might be building credibility quickly. A few years in, it might shift to succession planning or scaling your impact. In personal life, family time might be non-negotiable. Later, it could be your own health or creative fulfillment.

That’s why this metaphor is so powerful: it forces you to reevaluate what matters most right now.

Why It Matters to Share Them

It’s not enough to just know your glass and rubber balls. You’d be way better off communicating them. Yes this is so on brand for me because I’m such a hard ass about over communicating.

At work, that means telling your team: This is the project that cannot fail. It gives clarity and creates permission for trade-offs. Focus is everything when you’re moving fast.

In life, it means saying to the people close to you: This is the thing I can’t compromise on right now. It’s hard to hold the line but helps people not take your choices personally if you have to say no and rubber ball them.5

A Prompt for You

So I’ll leave you with the same question I’ve been wrestling with:

What are your glass balls and what are your rubber balls?

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Hi - I’m Jori and I’m a Product Coach. If you’re Product Leader or on a Product team looking for support - drop me a note.

I didn’t join Hampton to build software.

I joined because there was an opportunity to iterate on a very non-technical, human product: Core.

Core is our flagship product. It’s a space where founders gather in small groups, month after month, to share openly, challenge each other, and build relationships that transform their lives. As someone who spent over a decade collaborating with engineers and designers to deploy software, I wanted something radically different, and more challenging than shipping code.

Yes, we’re tech-enabled. But what I’m building is something deeply emotional, and, when it works, transformational. The magic comes from the people, not a piece of software. And that was the draw for me. As the line blurs between human and robot, I wanted to go all human.

Funny thing is, I’m finding myself pulling out every tool from my software days to build this highly analog experience for our members.

It all still applies.

Last week I introduced my non-technical team to agile and sprint planning, and it got me thinking about how much of “traditional” product development I carry with me everyday. It’s really in bones. In fact, so much of what I’m doing now is about bringing the best of product development into a completely different context.

Side note: It’s also why I’m so bullish on product as the ultimate generalist career path. The skills you develop, discovery, iteration, prioritization, they translate anywhere. I feel real gratitude for that. Product trained me to test and learn. Those muscles don’t just apply to building software. They apply to building anything.

And so naturally, I wanted to share all about it.

Here’s how I’m using my technical product tools to build analog, human experiences…

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Deeply subjective product discovery

In my software days, discovery meant shadowing users, running interviews and mining data. It meant running A/B and painted door tests to make really objective, quantitative decisions.

Today, quantitative data is much harder to come by. Because think about it: For one person, progress might be finally saying something out loud they’ve never admitted. For another, it might be realizing they don’t have to hold it all together, that it’s okay to ask for help. Both are “wins,” but they can’t be standardized into the same metric.

The “data” I’m working with is highly subjective. The insights I gather aren’t about features to build, they’re about creating the right conditions for high trust, radical candor and unwavering commitment.

I’m doing product discovery but how I measure what my customers are telling is me is completely different and unchartered territory, for me. I can’t wait till I master this so I can write about it more. For now, I’m fully in the thick of it, figuring it all out.

Agile, for non-technical teams

Agile was built for speed and adaptability in software.

But, code or no code, teams still need a rhythm. They need a way to triage what matters most, reflect honestly on what didn’t work, and commit to doing better the next cycle.

That’s all agile really is.

What really clicked for me was watching my team start to self-organize into sprints. Without any formal process or exposure to agile, they started working in bursts, rallying around short-term deadlines, like they were launching products.

That’s when I knew: if they already loved working this way, I knew I could 10x their output by giving them the right structure.

So I brought in agile lite: Sprints to provide focus, stand ups to keep us aligned, retros to learn and reset. Plus shared language, enhanced rituals, and repeatable frameworks so they could be more effective.

And we’re starting next week. It’ll be a learning curve that might slow us down at the onset, but I trust - after years of using these tools - that it’ll make us quicker in the long term.

It was an exciting moment to show my team the beauty of this framework, to validate their instincts to organize and to give them what they need to move more efficiently.

I’m excited to share more about how this experiment nets out.

MVPs and Iteration, Just Human-Sized

In software, an MVP is a scoped-down version of a feature, just enough to test, learn, and decide whether to double down or move on. At Hampton, I’m doing the same thing, just with people instead of code.

Recently, I laid out a vision for where I want to take Core Groups: a future where they feel more consistent, more transformational, and more distinctly “Hampton.” I shared that vision with my founders, and, in true founder fashion, they pushed me. Hard. The message was clear: this is the right direction, now move faster.

It was a humbling but helpful reminder. I don’t need to perfect the whole model on paper before I act. What I need is to descope. Strip it down to the most essential piece. Pilot it. Watch what happens. Then decide whether it deserves to scale.

That’s the beauty of building with an incremental mindset: resisting the urge to overbuild, and instead learning in the smallest possible increments.

The stakes feel different because the product is human. But the principle is the same: better to learn quickly and pivot than to assume we know what will work at scale.

AI As My Silent Co-Founder

Here’s the twist: while I’ve gone “all human” in what I’m building, I’m using AI at every step to move faster.

AI is my partner in discovery, helping me analyze interview notes, synthesize patterns, even draft documents. I recently asked it to bulletproof a strategy deck by coming up with all the hard questions my founders would ask to stress-test my thinking. I’ve weaved it into my work so much that they know what my founders will push me on. Wild.

At Hampton, I’m building an experience that runs on human energy. Our differentiator is analog. And we love it, because while the rest of the world digitizes, we’re running the opposite to direction to go all in on IRL.

I’m so excited to share more about what I’m building. But for now, I’m curious how you’ve used your technical product development tools outside of technical projects.

Did you try trello to organize a move? Did you try kanban to wedding plan? Guilty as charged on all accounts.

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Hi - I’m Jori and I’m a Product Coach. If you’re Product Leader or on a Product team looking for support - drop me a note.