All talking ceased when I opened the door to the conference room, and I thought I sensed a foreboding undercurrent of doom. As I entered the room, everyone tried to act either as if they were making small talk or looking at their notebooks. These were members of my staff, and I could tell they were planning some clandestine, probably ominous scheme. Our meeting was uneventful, with discussions only of such things as schedules and policy updates. I wondered what was going on behind the scenes. I was dreading the day I would learn their secret. Later that same day, I stopped Jennifer in the hall. She was the only person with whom I felt comfortable enough to ask, “Is there anything going on in the group that I should know about?” She was non-committal, “No, not that I’m aware of.” Her body language conflicted with her words.
By now I was sure they had some plan that didn’t include me. Were they trying to replace me? What had I done to offend them? I thought I'd done a good job and directed them with positivity, but maybe they saw things differently. This ate at me day and night. I even dreamed that they put me in a trash can and took me to the dumpster out back. I didn’t know where to turn. A couple of days later, Jennifer evidently noticed the anxiety that I was trying hard to conceal. This time she confronted me. “What is wrong with you? Are you ill? Do you need to go home and rest a while?”
