Orbit30 is a look back at the moments that shaped a 30-year career in design, leadership, and creative problem-solving. Not the highlight reel, but the real stuff. The messy, human, occasionally chaotic experiences that, in hindsight, taught the lessons that actually stick.
In 2013, I wasn’t technically “in creative.”
At least not in the traditional sense.
I was part of a brand-new team at Xerox. Three of us, brought together to build something that didn’t really exist yet: a centralized operation to manage all print production for a major national grocery retailer. It was equal parts process, logistics, and problem-solving. No graphic designers, but me as the Account Operations Manager, overseeing account managers, print buyers and project managers. Less typography, more spreadsheets.
But if you’ve been around long enough, you learn that the further you move into leadership, the more “creative” becomes less about designing and more about figuring things out.
We had spent most of 2012 building the foundation. Trips to the UK to job-shadow. Building and learning new systems. Working out of what we jokingly called the “cafetoffice” — a row of cubicles carved into a cafeteria because there simply wasn’t space anywhere else. By late 2013, this new department and team had been built out. Things were live, in motion and… real.
And then, in early October, they broke.
The Call
It started quietly.
A few phone calls from stores reporting that they had only received a fraction of the Turkey Bucks they were expecting. Then more calls came in, this time from smaller locations saying they had received far too many. At that point, it was clear something was off.
This wasn’t a small promotion. It was a major province-wide campaign tied to Thanksgiving: buy groceries, earn Turkey Bucks, come back and redeem them for your holiday meal. If this failed, it wasn’t just a print issue. It was a customer experience problem, a brand problem, and very quickly, a revenue problem.
We pulled the distribution list and compared the final version sent to vendors with an earlier one. That’s when we saw it.
A simple spreadsheet re-sort.
Columns had been misaligned, and store quantities no longer matched their intended allocations. High-volume stores were under-supplied, while smaller locations had received far more than they could ever use.
The kind of mistake that’s almost invisible. Until it isn’t.
The Plan (Such As It Was)
There’s a moment in situations like this where the instinct is to figure out who’s responsible.
We didn’t spend time there.
Instead, we focused on what we could fix, and how quickly we could fix it.
We broke the problem into three groups: stores that didn’t receive enough, stores where the variance was negligible, and stores that had received too many. Trying to rebalance everything would have been too slow and too complex, so we made a call to focus only on the locations that were critically short — about 25 to 30 stores.
Everything else would have to stand.
We immediately arranged for additional units to be printed and rushed to the fulfillment house in Aurora. At the same time, we were on a long call with our GM, who led the Sobeys account. She had already spoken with the client and, understandably, it hadn’t been a pleasant conversation. This call was about alignment, accountability, and execution.
It was tense — but it was focused.
The Saturday Scramble
By 8:00 AM Saturday morning, the team was on-site in Aurora.
Everyone showed up. Even the GM.
There was no hierarchy in that moment, just a group of people solving a problem.
We divided the affected stores geographically and each of us took on a small group of deliveries. Three stops per person, based on where we lived and what made the most sense logistically.
My route included Schomberg, Elmira, and Owen Sound — which, if you know Ontario, makes for a long day on the road.
Others had their own versions of that journey. One teammate based in Toronto had to cover a nearby location, then head out to Brantford and Sarnia before making the drive back.
We loaded up our cars and went.
No systems. No automation. No backup plan.
Just people, cars, and a commitment to fix it.
The Part That Still Makes Me Laugh
Somewhere in the middle of all this, I had a prior commitment.
I had just been cast in my first community theatre musical — All Shook Up — with Globe Productions. Friday nights were rehearsal nights.
So I stayed on the call with our GM as long as I could on Friday evening, sitting in the parking lot outside the Old Armoury in Georgetown while we wrapped it up. Inside, I could hear the piano starting up.
Jailhouse Rock.
That was my cue.
As soon as the call wrapped, I hung up, ran inside, dropped my coat, and stepped straight into the opening number mid-choreography like nothing had happened.
From crisis call to Elvis in about twelve seconds.
It felt completely absurd — and somehow perfectly normal at the same time.
What Actually Mattered
We fixed it.
Every store that needed support received it in time for the final stretch of the promotion. The client was taken care of, and the system held together.
But that’s not the part that stayed with me.
What I remember is how the team responded.
No one hid.
No one deflected.
No one said, “that’s not my job.”
We just moved.
The Lesson (30 Years In)
Early in your career, you think great work is about getting everything right the first time.
Over time, you realize something more important:
Great teams aren’t defined by avoiding mistakes.
They’re defined by how they respond when things go wrong.
Because things will go wrong.
A file will break.
A decision will miss.
A plan will unravel.
And in those moments, process helps. Experience helps.
But mindset matters more.
Ownership over ego.
Action over hesitation.
Solutions over blame.
That’s the real work.
At Orbit, that belief carries through everything we do. Not just the polished outcomes, but the messy middle: the problem-solving, the collaboration, and the willingness to step in when things don’t go to plan. Because that’s where trust is built. And in this business, trust is everything.
