I collapsed into a seat on the toilet, leaned my head against the wall, and started to cry. I'd had enough. And after walking in my front door, stressed to the max that I'd ever been stressed, and seeing no other alternative, made my mind up right there that I was quitting with no new job lined up.

The whole project had been a disaster from the start. A half-baked strategy. A too-small budget. A questionable hire of the person I was now reporting to. Yet the Board said go, and we were on the hook for delivering.

Yet, the project's intended "customers" were actively against the thing. The HR processes were designed for a different world, preventing hiring (and backfilling) at the pace we needed. And while the project was largely technology based, there was no technology support: IT wasn't involved. "We'd" gone rogue.

I had the get-up-and-go to do the thing, but lacked the subject matter expertise to know how to make it all happen, so everything was learning. On top of that, I was doing two jobs—managing another org-wide program while also trying to make this new thing happen. No, it didn't make sense, but after the re-org, it made sense to just say yes and follow the budget dollars.

That left me sitting on the toilet.

I called my dad, which of course was just me looking for someone to give me permission to quit—and while being someone who very much would never let me quit, acquiesced when he heard the state of affairs.

And then I took my plan to a senior executive who had shown an interest in mentoring me. He was new to the organization, and our relationship was progressing. I had shared some information about what was going on with the flailing project, which was my attempt at aligning politically with a new regime—(no, not my best move).

And he said, "You can't quit. Give me a week or two and I'll make something happen."

He did.

The program I was managing moved under him and me along with it.

I was relieved …

… for a few months.

He was a nightmare to work with. The worst "boss" I've ever had—the guy pumping me for information, playing the political games, telling me to watch Game of Thrones because it teaches you about politics in an organization, and making the moves to change reporting structures—who happened to rescue me from the (now) second worst boss I've ever had. Perhaps you saw this coming. I did not.

I was devastated. Back in the same situation that I had recently escaped, only worse.

Of course I was starting to think I was the problem. And as shared, I wasn't my best in all the moments described above—but here's how I know I was on more of the right side of the situation: the consultant I had been working with to implement the software platform for the last year-plus offered me a job. We'd spent many late nights in the office, we made decisions to move work forward, and somewhere in there we became friends. He was starting to focus the firm on healthcare projects and asked me to help him do it.

Yes, it was as close to a "deuces, I'm out" moment as you can imagine.

The new place gave me an opportunity to work with middle managers, the linchpin people in healthcare delivery organizations. Our consulting firm developed software products, replacing spreadsheets, documents, and email, to help middle managers operate their programs. We helped make their work lives better. It was fun work.

Apart from the work, it was here I discovered my earlier problems were not unique. We're all experiencing this stuff. Maybe not a sociopath boss. But the system we're all working in. And the frustration, and the overwhelm, and the confusion that comes with it.

Some people get great bosses who help them navigate the politics while they figure out how things work. Sometimes you work in a supportive organization where there's more awareness of the system's impact on people. More often than not, however: no one tells us anything and we have to figure it out for ourselves.

The toilet is where it changed for me. That experience put me on a different healthcare career trajectory—I think about work after work, not because I'm stressed or anxious or overwhelmed, but because I've been working to figure out why this stuff happens and how work can be better for all of us.

Here's what I've learned: Healthcare changed. The whole world, too. But how we work mostly hasn't.

It didn't absolve me of my decisions, I made several poor decisions in those days—but because it meant the "problem" had a name, and a name opened new possibility, on a path many very expert org thinkers and practitioners have already tread.

That's the origin story of "How's work?" That's why I started asking "How's work?" Of myself. Of the people I love. Of the people I coach. And working through what comes up.

That's what The Good Work Life is for.