By hiring Alvy, I had taken a risk, and that risk yielded the highest reward—a brilliant, committed teammate. I had wondered in graduate school how I could ever replicate the singular environment of the U of U. Now, suddenly, I saw the way. Always take a chance on better, even if it seems threatening.

In retrospect, when I sought the counsel of these more experienced men, I had been seeking simple answers to complex questions - do this, not that - because I was unsure of myself and stressed by the demands of my new job. But simple answers like the “start high” pricing advice - so seductive in its rationality - had distracted me and kept me from asking more fundamental questions.

But one thing could not have been more plain: Figuring out how to build a sustainable creative culture - one that didn’t just pay lip service to the importance of things like honesty, excellence, communication, originality, and self-assessment but really committed to them, no matter how uncomfortable that became - wasn’t a singular assignment. It was a day-in-day-out, full-time job. And one that I wanted to do.

To this day, it’s hard to describe the power those simple words had. He could have said dozens of other things to make me feel better—“You’ll find a way through this,” “It’s not as bad as you think,” or “Here are some things to try.” But what he said instead was specific to me, and something I felt he genuinely believed. It didn’t mean my opinions were always right, but his vote of confidence that they came from a principled place restored some of the confidence I had lost. By recognizing a strength of mine, Chris gave me a renewed sense of motivation.

His question in response to my exploration of how those things we’ve tossed into our shadow have a deep power that, when accessed with compassion and skill, can drive our creativity. He cried quietly when I noted that his struggle must be so painful.