A Message from Our CEO – June 2026

"The older I get, the better I was."

— Uncle Rico, Napoleon Dynamite

Sometime around 2005, in what I can only describe as a midlife crisis with good organizational skills, I gathered every business card I'd ever had— a baker's dozen, going all the way back to WDAU-TV in 1985 — and framed them. All thirteen. Hung them on the wall like a trophy case of restlessness.

I was in my early 40s. The longest I'd stayed anywhere was four years. I was a Gen Xer who treated jobs like apartments: comfortable for a while, then time to find something with better light.

Now I'm in my early 60s. I run a small consulting firm. I love the work. And I have absolutely no plans to retire.

Which means, if I'm being honest, I might be part of the problem.

Here's the math no one wants to do: the American workforce now spans five generations. One in five workers over 65 is still on the job — a number that has quadrupled since the 1980s. Half of them will tell you they stay for the social connection. The other 50% will tell you the truth: they can't afford to leave.

Meanwhile, a 24-year-old with a degree, $60,000 in debt, and real ability is sending out hundreds of applications into the void… the pit of no return. They are perfectly qualified for the job. But the seat they'd be perfect for... is occupied. By someone like me.

This is not a generation gap. It is a generational traffic jam.

And the fix isn't to push anyone out the door before they're ready, although nudging might work. This is where good succession planning takes place, done with intention and honesty — creating pathways before the bottleneck becomes a wall. Organizations that mentor across generations, that map out transitions before they become crises, that make room at the table rather than waiting for someone to vacate their chair — those are the ones that will survive the future of work (btw—IBM is doing this, bucking the trend and hiring binders full of Gen Z.)

I'm not retiring. But I am thinking harder about what I'm building, who I'm bringing along, and what I'll leave behind.

Make. Some. Room.

— Warren