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What Running a Cancer Nonprofit Taught Me About Serving Professionals
When people hear I went from running a cancer nonprofit to leading a premium flex office company, I get the same reaction every time: “That’s… a big switch.”
And on the surface, it is. But if you peel back the layers, the two worlds aren’t as different as they seem. At their core, both are about serving people with urgency, empathy, and intentionality.
Nonprofit Roots, Business Backbone
For nearly a decade, I helped build and scale Stupid Cancer, an organization focused on young adults affected by cancer. Our mission was personal, raw, and direct: make sure no one goes through cancer alone. We did that through education, community, digital innovation, and advocacy.
The stakes were always high. When you're supporting people in the hardest chapter of their lives, every interaction matters. We weren’t just building programs—we were building trust. The same principle applies in the business world, especially when your “product” is a place professionals choose to work, meet, and grow.
Lesson #1: People Don’t Buy Products—They Join Communities
At Stupid Cancer, people didn’t just attend events or use our tools—they connected with a community. We built spaces—both digital and physical—where young adults affected by cancer felt seen, supported, and understood. That sense of belonging was everything. It turned one-time participants into lifelong advocates.
I’ve carried that same focus on community into my work in flexible office space. At Firmspace, our members aren’t just leasing offices—they’re joining a professional environment that values privacy, productivity, and connection. We’re building more than square footage; we’re building trust and a shared sense of purpose among people doing serious work.
Whether you’re navigating a personal challenge or growing a business, there’s something powerful about knowing you’re part of a space that supports you—not just functionally, but emotionally too. People remember how a place makes them feel, and that feeling often stems from the culture and community around them.
Lesson #2: Details Are Everything
In nonprofits, resources are tight, but expectations are sky-high. You're constantly juggling limited budgets, small teams, and urgent needs. And yet, the people you're serving—patients, survivors, caregivers—are expecting an experience that feels personal, professional, and deeply supportive. That gap between what you have and what’s expected becomes your creative playground. You learn to stretch every dollar, systematize every process, and spot problems before they become visible.
That mindset didn’t stay behind when I left the nonprofit world—it became my secret weapon.
In the world of flex office space, there’s a similar tension. Professionals walk into our buildings with high expectations, spoken or not. They may not ask for fresh flowers in the lobby or perfectly aligned furniture, but they notice when it’s missing. They won’t always complain if the coffee is slightly cold or the conference room remote is missing, but they’ll remember it the next time they decide whether to invite a client in or take a Zoom at home.
From the cleanliness of a kitchen to the reliability of a conference room TV, every touchpoint matters. That level of precision isn’t about being obsessive—it’s about respect. Respect for the work our members are trying to do, the meetings they need to lead, and the moments that might define their careers.
What I learned in the nonprofit world is that people often make decisions based on how something made them feel, not just what it delivered. It’s emotional. It’s subconscious. It’s human. Whether someone is choosing a cancer support group or a workspace, they're evaluating trust, safety, and care—often without realizing it.
The details aren’t “nice to have.” They’re the whole thing.
Lesson #3: Mission Isn’t Just for Nonprofits
One of the biggest misconceptions I’ve encountered is that only nonprofits have a “mission.” In reality, the most effective businesses I’ve seen are driven by something deeper than revenue. They know their purpose. They stand for something.
At Stupid Cancer, our mission was clear: help young adults impacted by cancer feel less alone. Every decision we made was filtered through that lens—whether it was designing a mobile app, planning a road trip, or hosting a conference. The work felt urgent, but more than that, it felt aligned.
That same clarity of purpose is what I now strive for in the private sector. At Firmspace, our mission is to empower professionals to thrive by providing a distraction-free, high-integrity workspace built for focus, not chaos. We're not just selling office space—we're protecting people’s time, headspace, and ability to perform at their best.
I didn’t pivot away from impact. I pivoted toward a different kind of it. Helping someone get one more hour of deep work, land a big client, or simply feel in control of their day? That matters too. It may not look like traditional advocacy, but the intention—to support, to elevate, to serve—is the same. I am lucky to work with a team that gets this and brings their A game every day.
Different Sector, Same Soul
My time in the nonprofit world shaped how I lead—through empathy, integrity, and a clear sense of purpose. Those values didn’t fade when I moved into commercial real estate. If anything, they became even more important.
I used to stand on stages rallying communities to support young adults with cancer. Today, I walk office floors, building environments where professionals can focus, thrive, and feel supported in quieter, more personal ways. The setting changed—but the mission-driven mindset didn’t.
Over the years, I’ve come to believe that impact looks different at different stages of your life. When you’re younger—or just starting out—you often give what you have: your time, your energy, your blood, sweat, and tears. That was my story in the early nonprofit days. But as your career evolves, so does your capacity to contribute. Maybe you serve on a board. Maybe you write checks. Maybe you help build the kind of company that quietly supports hundreds of others doing meaningful work every day.
Impact doesn’t disappear—it shifts. And if you stay connected to your values, you can keep making a difference, no matter what sector you’re in.
Working in the private sector has only reinforced a belief I’ve carried for years: every industry needs what the nonprofit world does best. We need to listen—really listen—to the people we serve. We need to care deeply, not just about outcomes, but about experience. And we need to deliver thoughtfully, with intention behind every detail.
Because whether you're building community for patients or professionals, people remember how you made them feel. And for me, that’s always been the heart of the work.
P.S.
At 15, I was stocking shelves and counting pills behind the counter at Islip Pharmacy—just a kid behind the register trying to make a small difference in my community. I didn’t have money, power, or a title. But I had the desire to help people, and that was enough to get started.
Looking back, that moment wasn’t just the beginning of a job—it was the foundation of everything. That instinct to serve, to pay attention, to care about the person in front of me—it’s shown up in every chapter of my career, from cancer advocacy to commercial real estate.
The settings may change. The tools may evolve. But that 15-year-old kid is still at the heart of it all.
Eleven Years Since Instapeer: Reflecting on What Was—and What’s Still Needed
It’s hard to believe it’s been 11 years since Matthew Zachary and I launched Instapeer, a mobile app built for and by young adults affected by cancer. What started as a hopeful experiment in peer connection grew into something that touched thousands of lives—and though the app itself no longer exists, the mission behind it remains as urgent as ever.
Back in 2013, we saw a gap. A huge one. Young people facing cancer often didn’t know anyone their age who understood what they were going through. Support groups skewed older. Social media felt too broad. We believed technology could bridge the loneliness gap—could offer that “me too” moment that changes everything. And for a while, it did.
Instapeer wasn’t perfect, but it was real. People connected. Survivors supported each other. Patients found friends who got it. And we proved that peer-to-peer support doesn’t need a sterile conference room or a monthly meeting—it just needs access and empathy.
But time moves fast, and tech moves faster. We sunset the app a few years later, for reasons that will sound familiar to anyone who's ever built a startup in the nonprofit world: limited funding, shifting priorities, and the natural evolution of platforms and people. Instapeer had its moment, and we were proud of what we built.
Still, as I look around today, the need for what Instapeer represented hasn't gone away. In fact, it may be greater than ever. Mental health is finally getting the attention it deserves in cancer care, but too many young adults are still navigating their diagnosis alone. The isolation is quieter now—spread across fragmented platforms and buried beneath polished Instagram posts. But it's still there.
The future of peer support will look different. It should look different. But it should still exist.
Instapeer may be gone, but its spirit lives on in every DM between survivors, every late-night text to a cancer friend, every small moment where someone feels a little less alone.
There’s still so much work to be done. I hope we keep doing it.
P.S. To everyone who downloaded the app, shared their story, or helped us build Instapeer—you mattered. And you still do.
How I Became Co-Founder of Stupid Cancer
In 2007, Matthew Zachary started something bold. Drawing from his own experience as a young adult cancer survivor, he founded I’m Too Young For This! Cancer Foundation—a grassroots nonprofit built to connect, empower, and advocate for people navigating cancer in their teens, twenties, and thirties. At the time, there was virtually nothing out there for that age group. Matt gave it a voice, a face, and a mission.
I first crossed paths with Matt in 2009 when I was a senior at Farmingdale State College. What started as a bold cold email turned into an internship, then a job offer just before graduation, and eventually a full-time role helping grow the organization from the inside out. Over the years, I took on operations, tech, events, merchandise, partnerships—you name it, we all wore a lot of hats.
In 2012, we made a major shift: rebranding from I’m Too Young For This! to Stupid Cancer. It was more than a name change. It was a signal to the world that we weren’t going to whisper our mission—we were going to shout it. We wanted to make noise for the millions of young adults affected by cancer who felt invisible.
As part of that transition, Matt gave me the honorary title of Co-Founder. It wasn’t something I asked for or expected—but it meant a great deal. It acknowledged not just my work, but our shared belief in building something that hadn’t existed before. I felt honored then, and I still do.
Stupid Cancer gave me purpose, community, and a crash course in building meaningful things from the ground up. And though I’ve since moved on, that chapter remains one of the most formative experiences of my life.
When the Startup Becomes the System: Knowing When to Move On
It’s been just over nine years since I left Stupid Cancer. Some days, it feels like a lifetime ago. Other days, like yesterday.
There’s a moment in every startup or early-stage nonprofit when the chaos starts to calm. When whiteboards become roadmaps, Slack turns into org charts, and the gritty, figure-it-out hustle gives way to polished processes and official departments.
For some, it’s a long-awaited relief. For others—people like me—it’s a sign.
I joined Stupid Cancer (fka i[2]y - I’m Too Young For This! Cancer Foundation) when it was scrappy. Our ideas outpaced our resources, our passion outran our capacity, and we thrived in the unknown. I wore every hat, from operations and events to tech and merchandise. One month I was leading a 10-city road trip; the next I was negotiating vendor contracts or troubleshooting a donation form at midnight. It was unpredictable, unscalable—and I loved it.
But as we grew, something shifted. We built structure. We added roles and layers. Things that used to be a quick chat became committee decisions. Processes got cleaner—but also slower. We were doing the right things for a maturing organization. And I was proud of that growth. I had helped build it.
Still, I started to feel it in my gut: this wasn't the same work anymore.
I realized I was more comfortable in the ambiguity. I thrived when we were making it up as we went, when the mission and the hustle were inseparable. I was energized by building, solving, and stretching. But in the newly formalized environment, I felt like I was maintaining, not creating. There was less space for improvisation. Less mess to clean up. Less adrenaline.
That’s when I knew it was time.
Leaving wasn’t easy. Stupid Cancer was family. It shaped who I was as a professional and as a person. But staying would have meant resisting the very progress we had worked so hard to achieve.
I find purpose in uncertainty, in figuring it out before it’s figured out. And that’s not something to fight—it’s something to follow.
So, I stepped away. Not because I didn’t believe in the mission anymore, but because I had helped bring it to a place where someone else—someone better suited to stability—could take it further.
Nine years later, that decision still feels right.
P.S. No matter where I go or what I build next, I will always carry a deep love for Stupid Cancer. It’s in my DNA. The mission, the people, the memories—they travel with me. Always. Make a donation, here.
Lessons from the Field: My Hands-On Experience as a Field Marketer
When people hear the term field marketing, they often think of brand ambassadors handing out samples at events. But in my career, field marketing has been much more than that—it's been strategy, hustle, storytelling, and community-building rolled into one. Whether I was repping a nonprofit cause or supporting a premium real estate brand, I’ve lived the field marketing life—boots on the ground, face-to-face with customers, partners, and prospects.
Here are a few examples of how field marketing has shown up in my work:
From Road Trips to Rallying Support
As a leader at Stupid Cancer, I didn’t just plan awareness campaigns—I drove them. Literally. I helped conceptualize and execute the Stupid Cancer Road Trip, a cross-country, multi-city tour that brought our brand directly to hospitals, universities, corporate partners, and community centers. We met young adult cancer patients and survivors face-to-face, handed out materials, hosted meetups, and put our mission in motion—one city at a time.
These campaigns didn’t just build awareness—they built loyalty. People remembered us because we showed up.
Marketing a High-Touch Office Experience
At Firmspace, I’ve brought a similar approach to the world of commercial real estate. We operate premium private office space for high-performing professionals, and field marketing here means building broker relationships, hosting on-site events, and driving localized brand awareness in each of our markets.
I’ve helped organize and promote open houses, lunches, building-wide events, and professional networking opportunities. These aren’t just tactics—they’re strategic moments to tell our story, reinforce our value, and create lasting impressions with brokers and potential members.
Speaking, Sponsoring, and Showing Up
Whether it’s staffing a booth at a trade show or speaking at an industry panel, I’ve always looked for opportunities to bring the brand to life. At conferences like CancerCon or nonprofit summits, I’ve coordinated everything from signage and swag to speaker prep and booth engagement. These in-person activations are the perfect stage to drive leads, share stories, and build human connection.
Why Field Marketing Still Matters
In a world increasingly dominated by digital, I still believe field marketing offers something tech can’t replicate: presence. When you’re in the room—or on the road—you build trust faster. You learn what people really think. You see how your brand lands in the real world.
Field marketing isn’t a role I’ve had—it's a mindset I bring to everything I do.
If your brand needs someone who can represent it authentically in the real world—whether at a boardroom table, a hospital lobby, or an industry happy hour—you know where to find me.
How AI and SEO Helped Us Save Lives: A Testicular Cancer Story
At Testicular Cancer Foundation, our mission is simple but critical: to raise awareness about the most common cancer in young men and save lives through early detection and education. But like many nonprofits, we faced a challenge: how do we get this message in front of the right audience—consistently and at scale—without a massive marketing budget?
In early 2024, we made two key decisions that transformed our digital footprint:
We hired an SEO consulting firm.
We embraced AI to help us produce high-quality content.
The Problem: Important Message, Limited Reach
We’d built a solid brand over the years through school programs, patient support, and national campaigns. But our website traffic plateaued. Young men weren't searching for "testicular cancer symptoms" until it was too late. We needed to meet them earlier—on Google, Instagram, Discord—anywhere they were already asking questions or searching for answers.
The Solution: SEO Strategy Meets AI Content
With the help of an SEO consultant, we overhauled our content strategy. They dug deep into search data to uncover what people were actually Googling. Turns out, young men weren’t typing "testicular cancer foundation." They were asking things like:
“Is one testicle lower than the other normal?”
“How to do a self-exam?”
“Hard lump on testicle—what does it mean?”
We didn’t need to guess anymore. We had a roadmap.
Then we layered in AI tools to help us write. We generated blog posts, FAQs, resource pages, and self-exam guides based on those queries. Every piece was reviewed by our team for accuracy, tone, and medical clarity. It wasn’t about replacing people—it was about amplifying our ability to respond to hundreds of real-time questions with trusted, accessible information.
The Result: A Surge in Traffic—and Impact
Within twelve months:
More than 300 new content pages were published with SEO-rich, medically reviewed information.
We went from 300 organic keywords to >5,500.
Our authority score went from 25 to 31.
Our backlinks doubled.
Thousands of readers engaged with our self-exam content, our most critical call to action.
Most importantly, we started receiving messages from young men saying, “I read your article, checked myself, and went to the doctor.” That’s the dream.
The Takeaway
For nonprofits, especially in health advocacy, investing in SEO and smart content production isn’t just about visibility—it’s about impact. The combination of search-informed strategy and AI-powered execution allowed us to scale faster, speak more directly to our audience, and ultimately fulfill our mission more effectively.
Early detection saves lives. And now, thanks to the right mix of tech and strategy, our message is reaching more people—when they need it most.
Live, Unfiltered, and On-Air: What I Learned from The Stupid Cancer Show
From 2010 to 2016, Monday nights were sacred.
While most people were wrapping up their workday or binge-watching whatever Netflix just dropped, I was in a studio-turned-broadcast-bunker helping produce The Stupid Cancer Show — a weekly internet radio show at the heart of the young adult cancer movement.
I started on the production team, back when the show ran on little more than grit, Google Docs, and a prayer. But over the years, I wore just about every hat — guest wrangler, tech fixer, on-air color commentator, and occasional pizza-orderer. Eventually, we raised enough funds to do a full renovation of our studio, upgrading the space and gear to true professional quality. It was one of the most satisfying projects I’ve ever helped pull off.
But what I really got out of it wasn’t a credit or a résumé line. It was a crash course in creative real-time execution — and what it takes to consistently put the best possible product out into the world.
Thinking Fast and Staying Sharp
The show was live. Always. No second takes, no cutting in post. That meant you had to think and react — fast. Whether a guest derailed into a tangent, a mic cut out, or Matthew Zachary (our fearless host) suddenly tossed you a hot take to build on, there was no time to overthink.
As the color commentator alongside Matthew and co-host Lisa Bernhard, my job was to react, amplify, redirect, or lighten the mood — in real time. It taught me how to be present, how to read the room (or radio waves), and how to contribute meaningfully without stepping on the flow.
From Makeshift to Mission-Driven
In the early days, the studio was scrappy — wires everywhere, gear we’d jury-rigged, and lots of crossed fingers. But in 2014, we decided the mission deserved more. We raised funds and rebuilt the studio from the ground up, transforming it into a polished, professional-grade production space. New mics, soundproofing, a full broadcast setup — the works.
That transformation mirrored what we were doing as an organization. We were scaling up, maturing, and putting out content that met the quality our audience deserved. It taught me that investing in infrastructure isn’t vanity — it’s respect. Respect for your mission, your team, and your audience.
Listening Is the Secret Skill
Being on-air wasn’t about talking — it was about listening. Knowing when to support, when to speak up, and when to let something breathe. The best moments came from chemistry, timing, and trust — not just scripts.
That’s stayed with me in every role since. Whether in a boardroom, a brainstorm, or a one-on-one with a team member, great communication starts with really hearing what’s happening around you.
The Power of Shipping Weekly
For six years, we shipped every week. Rain or shine, flu or fatigue. And that discipline built creative confidence. It taught me that consistency compounds. That showing up matters. That good ideas become great through momentum — not magic.
I still carry that energy into everything I build: the drive to create something excellent, even if the path there is messy.
Final Thought
Working on The Stupid Cancer Show was never just about content — it was about community, courage, and creativity under pressure. It sharpened my instincts, stretched my skills, and showed me what’s possible when mission meets media.
And while I’ve moved from radio mics to real estate, and from podcasts to private offices, the lesson holds: No matter the product, the process matters. And the best products come from teams who care deeply — and aren’t afraid to go live.
From Cancer Advocacy to Commercial Real Estate: Connecting the Dots
If you had told me 15 years ago that I’d go from helping young adults navigate cancer to running a high-end private office space company, I might’ve asked you what was in your Stanley® cup.
Back then, my world revolved around fundraising galas, hospital partnerships, and learning how to stretch every dollar to reach one more patient. Today, I’m navigating build-outs, lease negotiations, and the delicate balance between design and functionality. But surprisingly, the two worlds aren’t as far apart as they seem.
Here’s what I’ve learned bridging nonprofit advocacy and commercial real estate — and why those early years in cancer support gave me a playbook for everything I’m doing now.
1. Mission Matters — No Matter the Industry
In nonprofit work, “mission” isn’t just a slide on a deck — it’s oxygen. At Stupid Cancer, we were fighting to give young adults a voice in a healthcare system that overlooked them. Every decision came down to impact.
In real estate, especially flexible office space, people don’t always think about mission. But I do. At Firmspace, our mission is clear: create professional, distraction-free environments where serious people can do their best work. Our members are lawyers, accountants, consultants — people who can’t afford to take shortcuts. Giving them space to thrive is our mission.
2. Customer Service is Everything
In cancer advocacy, if you didn’t return a message or pick up the phone, someone felt abandoned. There were no “office hours” for grief, anxiety, or the logistics of survivorship.
I carried that urgency into the way we treat members at Firmspace. When someone needs a tech fix, a quiet room, or even just to vent about building policy, we respond like it’s personal — because it is. They’re trusting us with the environment where their business lives and breathes.
3. You Have to Scale Without Losing Soul
Nonprofits are notoriously scrappy. You learn how to build systems that scale with minimal resources — and you never let go of the human connection.
That’s been invaluable in commercial real estate. We’re growing, but not at the cost of the member experience. Every new location has to meet the same standard of service, professionalism, and privacy. It’s not just about square footage; it’s about emotional square footage — how people feel in the space.
4. The Power of Community, Reimagined
In cancer, the goal was connection — making sure no one felt alone in the fight.
In commercial real estate, I’m building community in a different way. Our members don’t need happy hours or coworking clichés. They need reliability. They need trust. They need an environment where excellence is assumed. It’s a quieter kind of community, but no less powerful.
5. People Are the Real Product
Whether it was the Stupid Cancer Road Trip or launching a new Firmspace location, the lesson is the same: people are the brand. Not logos, not buildings, not tech stacks.
From young adults facing the unimaginable to high-performing professionals juggling a dozen plates — if you focus on people, everything else follows.
Final Thought
Cancer advocacy taught me how to lead with empathy, stay nimble, and build systems that serve real human needs. Commercial real estate just gave me a new set of tools to apply those same principles.
It’s not about the industry. It’s about impact — and I’m still chasing it, just in a better-fitting blazer.
From Friday Emails to Monday Layoffs: How One E-Commerce Experience Made Me Grateful for Stupid Cancer
There was a time I seriously considered joining one of the big e-commerce SaaS platforms. I was deep in conversation with a smart, motivated partner manager—I’ll call her Amanda—about a potential role where I could help nonprofits scale their online impact using the platform’s tech. She was excited about my experience building the Stupid Cancer Store and thought I could bring a fresh perspective.
By Friday, we were trading emails about next steps. By Monday, Amanda and her entire team had been laid off.
Just like that. A whole department wiped out.
I found out when my follow-up email bounced. Then I checked LinkedIn and saw a wave of “open to work” posts from people I had hoped would be my future colleagues.
It felt like the floor had shifted beneath my feet.
At first, I was shocked. Then I felt a strange kind of relief. Not because I didn’t want the job anymore—but because I already had one that mattered.
At that time, I was with Stupid Cancer. We weren’t the biggest org. We didn’t have stock options or kombucha on tap. But what we did have was purpose—and a kind of job security that doesn’t come from venture capital or market share, but from community and clarity of mission.
I thought back to the early days of the Stupid Cancer Store. We built it from scratch—me, in a small TriBeCa office, with better than average level coding skills and a strong belief that cancer patients deserved better swag. Hoodies, mugs, journals, even onesies for babies born to survivors. Everything was personal. Everything was intentional. We didn’t have a marketing budget, but we had heart—and that kept the orders coming.
Over time, I migrated our storefront to a more scalable platform, optimized fulfillment, and expanded the product line. It became a small but mighty revenue stream for the organization. But more than that, it was an extension of our brand. A way for survivors to say, “I’m still here—and I’m repping it.”
The contrast between what I had at Stupid Cancer and what I almost stepped into at the e-comm giant couldn’t have been clearer. One was unpredictable, corporate, and ultimately disposable. The other was gritty, imperfect, and full of purpose.
That Monday morning was a wake-up call—not about ambition, but about values.
I still believe in the power of e-commerce to do good. I still geek out over tools that help small teams punch above their weight. But I’m more cautious now. I ask different questions: What’s the culture like? Who’s protected when things go sideways? Does this platform care about the people behind the stores—or just the stores themselves?
That moment reminded me: security isn’t just a paycheck. It’s knowing that if the world flips on a Monday, you won’t be an afterthought by Tuesday.
And for all its challenges, Stupid Cancer never made me feel disposable.
How I Came to Work at Stupid Cancer
I was sitting in Diane Bachor’s grant writing class during my fifth year of undergrad at Farmingdale State College — not exactly expecting a career-defining moment. One of the guest speakers that day was Cyndy S., a chapter leader from an organization with a name that immediately grabbed me: the I’m Too Young For This! Cancer Foundation, also known as i[2]y.
As Cyndy spoke about the mission and the work they were doing to support young adults affected by cancer, something clicked. I didn’t wait. While she was still presenting, I opened my laptop and sent a cold email to the founder and CEO, Matthew Zachary.
It probably said something like:
“I love what you’re doing. I want to help.”
Professor Bachor noticed. I got called out. I might’ve lost participation points.
But that email changed my life.
A Call Before Graduation
Two weeks before graduation, I got a phone call from Matthew.
His wife was pregnant with twins. His first intern had just accepted a position with President Obama’s advance team. He needed someone fast — someone who could jump in, learn quickly, and help carry the mission forward.
He asked if I wanted the job.
I said yes.
Getting in the Door
When I joined, the organization was still known as i[2]y. It was raw, scrappy, and full of heart. We were running events out of tiny spaces, managing big dreams with limited resources, and connecting with a generation that had been overlooked by traditional cancer organizations.
In 2011, we rebranded as Stupid Cancer — a bold, unapologetic name that captured the frustration, the community, and the movement we were building. It wasn’t just about awareness. It was about identity, empowerment, and giving young adults a voice in the cancer conversation.
More Than a Job
Over the years, I grew with the organization — from intern to COO, helping scale programs, launch national campaigns, and build a platform that resonated with hundreds of thousands of people. We ran the Stupid Cancer Road Trip, created the Stupid Cancer Store, launched tech like Instapeer, and held conferences that felt more like festivals than fundraisers.
We proved that a nonprofit could be innovative, direct, and deeply human — without sacrificing impact.
Looking Back
That moment in Diane Bachor’s class was impulsive. I didn’t know exactly what I was doing. But I knew I wanted to be part of something that mattered. Cancer had hit my family in 2005, and it was time to go on the offensive and hit back.
What started as a cold email in a classroom turned into a decade-long journey that shaped my career, my values, and my perspective on leadership.
Sometimes you get points deducted for jumping ahead.
Sometimes that’s precisely what it takes to change your life.
What to Do While Everyone Else Is on Vacation
It’s mid-July. Your inbox is quiet, your calendar suddenly breathable, and half your network seems to be in Italy. But for entrepreneurs — especially those of us building in industries like flexible real estate, health innovation, or mission-driven nonprofits — this isn’t a lull. It’s a draw-back-the-arrow moment.
When everyone else is coasting, it's your chance to set the pace.
1. Recalibrate Strategy with Precision, Not Panic
Mid-year is a perfect time to reassess your goals for the rest of the year. What’s working? What’s noise? Whether you're managing Class A office space, scaling advocacy tech, or running a lean nonprofit team — clarity wins.
I spend this time asking: If I were starting today, what would I do differently? From there, I cut dead weight, double down on winners, and reset expectations — internally and externally.
2. Upgrade Your Infrastructure While No One’s Watching
At Firmspace, July is when we modernize — tech stacks, member onboarding flows, broker engagement strategies. It’s easier to experiment when traffic is slower and pressure is low.
In the nonprofit space, it’s the same play: automate donor funnels, revisit CRM flows, clean up your data. In healthtech? Rebuild your website with new landing pages and clarify your messaging.
This is builder season.
3. Invest in Quiet Relationships
While the spotlight’s off, I reach out to people who usually don’t have time for calls — founders, brokers, donors, policymakers, even past colleagues. Mid-summer is human time. No pitch. Just reconnect.
It’s amazing what comes from, “Hey, just checking in — how’s the year shaping up for you?”
4. Train Like You’re in Preseason
This is when you go deep on the things that make you dangerous: read the boring market reports, enroll in a course, tighten your AI workflows, get feedback from your team. You don’t have to be loud to get better. You just have to be intentional.
Right now, while others are distracted, you can quietly become the most prepared person in the room come September.
5. Respect the Pullback
There’s a reason archers pull the arrow back before they fire. That tension? It builds power. July isn’t downtime. It’s resistance training. If it feels hard or lonely, that’s a good sign — it means you’re not on autopilot.
In flexible real estate, this is the lead-up to fall leasing season. In nonprofit, this is the prep for year-end campaigns.
Use this time to aim deliberately, and maybe have an Aperol Spritz.
AI Isn’t Just for the Experts. It’s for You.
There’s a voice that whispers “you’re not ready” or “you’re faking it”—and if you’ve ever built something new, pitched an idea, or stepped into leadership, you’ve probably heard it too. That voice is imposter syndrome. It’s clever, sneaky, and thrives on change.
And right now, everything is changing.
The rise of generative AI tools like ChatGPT, Claude, and Gemini is reshaping how we work. Entire industries are being reimagined, and suddenly it feels like everyone is a prompt engineer, an AI strategist, or a futurist. If you’re not already fluent in the language of large language models, vector embeddings, or autonomous agents, it’s easy to feel behind—even obsolete.
But here’s the truth: you don’t need to be an AI expert to build an AI-powered future. You just need curiosity, humility, and a willingness to experiment.
The Myth of the “AI Person”
Let’s bust a myth: there is no such thing as an “AI person.” There are only people willing to adopt tools early, stay open to learning, and use technology to solve real problems. The rest is just noise.
The people winning in this moment aren’t necessarily technical. They’re the ones who:
Automate a manual task with Zapier and ChatGPT.
Summarize customer feedback using Claude to spot patterns faster.
Use AI to write better marketing copy, analyze data, or prep for meetings in less time.
They're not replacing their jobs with AI—they're upgrading how they do their jobs.
What an AI-First Mindset Really Means
Adopting an AI-first mindset doesn’t mean becoming a machine learning engineer overnight. It means:
Asking “what can AI do for me here?” at the start of every project.
Defaulting to experimentation instead of perfection.
Thinking like a product manager: start with the problem, not the tool.
Letting go of the idea that you need permission to use AI.
It’s about using AI not just to go faster, but to go smarter.
The Cure for Imposter Syndrome: Action
Imposter syndrome feeds on stagnation. The more you wait until you're "ready," the more disconnected you feel from the momentum around you. The best way to beat it is to ship something, however small.
Try building a personal AI assistant to summarize your inbox.
Use AI to draft that blog post you've been putting off.
Automate a weekly report and reclaim hours of your time.
Every simple use case you adopt chips away at that inner voice telling you you're behind. Because you're not behind—you’re learning in real time, alongside everyone else.
AI Belongs to the Curious
We’re not in an AI future. We’re in an AI present. And it’s not about mastering the tech; it’s about mastering your mindset.
You don’t need credentials. You need curiosity.
You don’t need to feel ready. You need to get started.
And you don’t need to prove yourself to anyone but the version of you who stayed stuck.
Start with a simple tool. Make it do something useful. Then do it again.
That’s not imposter behavior—that’s what innovation looks like.
How My Experience Prepared Me for a Future Powered by AI — And Why Yours Can Too
The world is changing fast. AI isn’t just a buzzword anymore — it’s reshaping how we work, live, and solve problems. As someone who’s spent over 15 years leading organizations in tech, real estate, and nonprofits, I’ve been reflecting on how my journey prepares me for this AI-driven future — and why I believe yours does, too.
Leadership in a Tech-Driven World
Leading companies like Firmspace taught me that technology alone doesn’t move the needle — people and vision do. AI is no different. Behind every AI innovation are teams who need clear direction, strategic thinking, and a way to connect complex technology with real human needs. If you’ve ever managed teams, projects, or businesses, you already have a huge head start. AI roles crave leaders who can translate tech into meaningful impact.
From Operations to Automation
I’ve spent years optimizing workflows, integrating automation tools, and scaling digital infrastructure. These experiences are gold in an AI world where efficiency and data-driven decisions matter more than ever. Even if you’re not a coder today, understanding how technology can improve processes puts you in a strong position to work alongside AI systems or help implement them.
Versatility Across Industries
My career path has taken me through nonprofits, healthcare advocacy, real estate, and tech startups. What’s clear is AI is not limited to one sector. Whether it’s improving patient care, revolutionizing workspace management, or enhancing customer experience, AI’s reach is vast. If you’ve gained experience in diverse fields, you bring a perspective that’s invaluable for applying AI solutions in real-world settings.
Communication: The Human Side of AI
One thing AI can’t replace? The ability to communicate clearly and connect with people. Whether writing blogs, leading teams, or advocating for causes, I’ve learned how vital it is to bridge the gap between tech experts and everyday users. As AI becomes more complex, this human touch will be even more crucial.
The Mindset to Learn and Adapt
Perhaps the most important asset in this era is a willingness to learn. My career involved constant pivots — picking up new skills, embracing new industries, and adapting to change. AI moves fast. If you’re curious and open to growth, you’re already setting yourself up for success.
What This Means for You
You don’t have to start as a data scientist or AI engineer to be part of this future. Leadership, adaptability, communication, and real-world experience are just as critical. Think about the skills you already have — chances are they translate more than you realize.
If you’re feeling uncertain about where AI fits into your path, start small: learn how automation might streamline your current work, explore AI tools relevant to your field, or consider how you might lead technology-driven change.
The AI future isn’t just for coders — it’s for everyone ready to bring their unique experience and perspective to the table. And that includes you.
The CEO’s Secret Weapon: The General Mailbox
As the CEO of a growing business, my inbox is consistently flooded with emails—from critical strategic decisions to day-to-day operational tasks. Yet, there's one particular type of email I make a priority: inquiries coming through our general company mailbox.
Many executives might wonder, "Why should the CEO spend time answering general inquiries? Isn’t that what customer service teams are for?" Here's why embracing these communications directly can significantly impact your bottom line.
Direct Customer Insights
Responding personally gives CEOs invaluable, unfiltered insights into customers' perspectives. Understanding customer pain points, preferences, and experiences firsthand allows for informed strategic decisions, driving higher customer satisfaction and loyalty.
Building Brand Loyalty
When customers receive a response from the CEO, it conveys genuine care and commitment. This personal touch fosters brand loyalty, increases customer retention rates, and ultimately grows lifetime customer value.
Spotting Early Trends
Emails from customers often reveal early signals about market trends, shifts in consumer demand, or emerging competitive threats. Spotting these trends early allows your business to proactively adapt, innovate, and stay ahead.
Boosting Employee Morale
When the CEO engages directly with customers, it sets a powerful example for employees. It demonstrates the organization's customer-centric values and motivates employees to provide similarly responsive and dedicated customer support.
Cultivating Transparency and Trust
Direct communication from the CEO demonstrates transparency, authenticity, and accountability. Trust is a key currency in business today, and building it directly from the top can transform customers into brand advocates.
Practical Tips for CEO Engagement
Set Boundaries: Dedicate a specific, manageable time slot each week.
Delegate Smartly: Forward inquiries requiring specific operational expertise to appropriate teams, but stay engaged and follow up personally.
Communicate Clearly: Brief, direct, and empathetic responses strengthen connections.
In short, regularly responding to general inbox inquiries isn't just a nice gesture—it’s a strategic move. It can enhance customer experience, employee engagement, and your brand’s reputation, all ultimately reflected in your bottom line.
Securing Your Business in the Age of AI: Essential Guidelines for Safe Use
AI tools like ChatGPT have rapidly become indispensable for businesses looking to boost productivity and efficiency. But as with any powerful technology, ensuring security and protecting sensitive information must remain a top priority. This became especially clear recently when drafting a new AI usage policy for our employee handbook at Firmspace. Here are some essential guidelines to help you keep your business secure while harnessing the power of AI:
1. Set Clear Usage Guidelines
The first step is to define clear rules about what kinds of information employees can input into AI tools. Sensitive data—such as proprietary business strategies, confidential client details, or personally identifiable information—should always be excluded from AI interactions unless specifically authorized and secured.
2. Educate Your Employees
Your workforce is your first line of defense. Regular training sessions emphasizing the importance of data privacy, security, and responsible use of AI tools are vital. Ensure your team understands not just what is prohibited, but why it matters for the integrity of your business.
3. Implement Access Controls
Manage who can access specific AI tools within your organization and monitor their usage. Role-based access ensures that only authorized employees have access to powerful AI platforms and the sensitive data potentially involved in those interactions.
4. Regularly Review and Audit Usage
Ongoing monitoring and periodic audits of how AI tools are used in your business can help identify and mitigate potential security risks. Audits will provide insights into compliance with your AI policy, allowing you to proactively address any vulnerabilities.
5. Select Trusted AI Vendors
Carefully vet AI service providers for their commitment to security and privacy. Look for vendors who transparently detail their data management practices, provide robust encryption, and comply with industry-standard security certifications.
6. Adopt AI Tools with Built-In Security Features
Prioritize tools that include security and compliance features designed explicitly for business use, such as enterprise-grade encryption, data anonymization options, and clear data retention policies.
7. Continuously Update Your Policies
AI technology evolves quickly, and so should your policies. Regularly revisit your AI usage policy to accommodate new tools, emerging threats, or changing regulatory requirements.
Making Security a Priority
When we drafted Firmspace’s AI policy, the aim was clear: enabling innovation and efficiency while firmly safeguarding our organization's critical assets. By creating clear policies, educating employees, and continuously adapting to technological advances, your business can safely leverage AI’s vast potential without compromising on security.
I Don’t Chase Inbox Zero Anymore — Here’s What I Do Instead
For years, I believed that “Inbox Zero” was the holy grail of productivity — a pristine digital slate at the end of each day that meant I was on top of everything. If I cleared my inbox, I had clarity. I had control. I had done “the work.”
But over time, I realized that chasing Inbox Zero was just that — a chase. A never-ending loop of archiving, replying, snoozing, labeling, and kidding myself that a tidy inbox was the same as a focused mind.
Now? I don’t chase Inbox Zero. I chase progress. Here’s what I do instead.
1. I Turn My Inbox into a Triage Room — Not a To-Do List
Your inbox is everyone else’s to-do list for you. If I treat every message like a task, I’m surrendering my priorities to someone else’s urgency.
Now, I review emails like a triage nurse. Is it urgent? Is it mine? Is it important right now? If not, it waits. I give myself permission to ignore “quick asks” that are really distractions in disguise.
2. I Snooze Ruthlessly
Gmail’s snooze function is my safety valve. I use it not to avoid work, but to schedule when I want to think about something. Monday morning isn’t the time to answer a Friday afternoon “circle back.” That gets snoozed until Thursday.
It’s not procrastination — it’s intention.
3. I Keep a "Focus First" List Outside My Inbox
At the start of each week, I write down 3–5 things that actually move the needle: key decisions, strategic initiatives, big conversations. This list lives in Notion (or sometimes just on a sticky note next to my desk), and it’s where I go before I check email in the morning.
Email is reactive. My focus list is proactive.
4. I Automate What I Can
Newsletters are routed to a separate tab. Recurring requests get templates. Calendar links cut out the back-and-forth. I’ve even trained AI to draft common responses or flag the emails that really need my attention.
Inbox management is a systems problem, not a willpower problem. The right tools make a difference.
5. I Let Some Balls Drop — On Purpose
This is the hardest one. I don’t respond to every email. I miss things sometimes. But I’ve learned that not all dropped balls shatter. Some just bounce. And more often than not, the things I let go of were never that important to begin with.
Being a CEO, a parent, a founder — it all means trade-offs. Inbox Zero was never the goal. Impact is.
Final Thought
I no longer see an overflowing inbox as a failure. It’s a byproduct of being engaged, leading multiple teams, and doing meaningful work. My job isn’t to empty the inbox — it’s to make decisions, build momentum, and move the work forward.
So no, I don’t chase Inbox Zero anymore.
I chase what matters.
Meet My Agentic AI: The Strategic Partner I Didn’t Know I Needed
For most of my career, I’ve been the person behind the curtain—building systems, leading teams, and scaling operations in sectors that rarely play by the same rules. From cancer nonprofits to private offices, from eCommerce to real estate, I’ve learned to wear every hat in the closet.
But lately, I’ve been thinking about a different kind of partner:
What would the Agentic AI version of myself look like?
Not just another tool or chatbot—but an autonomous, strategic extension of my thinking, priorities, and values. A co-pilot that anticipates, initiates, and adapts—without needing to be micromanaged.
Here’s what that AI would do.
The Operator: Systems, Streamlined
Agentic AI doesn’t wait for me to delegate. It knows the Firmspace Q3 membership agreement expirations are approaching, scans for at-risk members, and automatically drafts a retention plan based on historical behavior, notes from the Membership Sales Manager, and what’s worked in the past.
It syncs with Zapier, audits our automations, and quietly decommissions the ones no longer creating value. It updates SOPs as they evolve and recommends the right moment to train the team—not just after things break.
It runs how I think:
System-first. Results-driven. Calm under pressure.
The Strategist: Thinking in Chapters
My Agentic AI knows my career isn’t a collection of jobs—it’s a narrative.
It connects the through-line from teen hustles in Islip to the Stupid Cancer road trips to fundraising campaigns built on authenticity, not algorithms.
It also knows I like to write blog posts that would have helped a younger version of myself—lessons I had to learn the hard way, shared to save someone else time, energy, or heartache. My AI surfaces those themes, organizes the fragments, and gives them shape.
It helps me write like a builder, not just a doer.
The Brand Guardian: Voice, Locked In
Whether it’s a board update, a donor appeal, or a note to a frustrated member, my Agentic AI knows how I would say it. Not stiff, not sterile—but clear, honest, and maybe even a little funny if the moment allows.
It doesn’t just generate content.
It generates me, distilled and extended.
The Connector: Relationships at Scale
I’ve built entire movements through relationships—survivors, donors, members, founders, skeptics. My AI tracks who I haven’t followed up with, notices someone’s company just raised a Series A, and nudges me to reach out with something thoughtful.
It turns my network into a living, breathing ecosystem—not a pile of forgotten business cards.
The Human Element
Most importantly, my Agentic AI understands why I do what I do.
It knows I care about leaving things better than I found them. That I believe in showing up—whether for a cancer survivor or a member trying to grow their business. It respects that while AI can help scale impact, it’s my values that define the mission.
And it never forgets that.
Final Thought
We talk a lot about AI as a threat, a toy, or a shortcut.
But I’m more interested in the version of AI that reflects the best version of me—one that can think like I do, move like I do, and care (at least algorithmically) like I do.
That’s the Agentic AI I want.
And slowly but surely, I’m building it.
Merging AI with Hospitality: Why Human-Centered Tech is the Future of Customer Experience
I’ve always had a hospitality mindset. Whether it was walking the floors of Firmspace, helping someone get unstuck in a nonprofit setting, or solving a last-minute request for a member—my instinct has always been to serve. I’m hardwired to anticipate needs, create comfort, and make people feel like they belong.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what happens when that hospitality instinct meets AI.
Let me be clear: I’m not here to automate away the human touch. Quite the opposite. I believe AI should enhance our ability to be present, consistent, and proactive—not replace it. In many ways, the best AI tools act like great support staff: quiet, reliable, and always one step ahead.
Tech That Feels Like a Concierge
Think about a great hotel concierge. They don’t just hand you a map—they ask questions, read between the lines, and offer tailored suggestions. That’s the future of AI in hospitality. From the coworking world to customer service desks, we now have tools that can:
Anticipate needs by analyzing usage trends and preferences
Automate repetitive tasks so staff can focus on high-touch moments
Respond consistently and quickly across channels, 24/7
Create memory by logging preferences, feedback, and prior interactions
The magic happens when this tech disappears into the background and simply allows your people to show up better.
From Warm Smiles to Smart Systems
When I walk through our physical spaces or oversee Firmspace operations, I’m often thinking, “How do we scale this experience without diluting it?” That’s where AI shines—not by making us colder, but by helping us keep the warmth on time, every time.
Want to make sure a customer gets a welcome message on day one?
AI can do that.
Want to trigger a personalized follow-up after a support ticket closes?
AI can handle that too.
Want to detect if someone’s usage patterns signal dissatisfaction before they churn?
Yep—AI can help you read that room too.
Why Human Judgment Still Wins
The secret sauce is still empathy. AI can queue the message, but it can’t match the tone of a handwritten note. It can highlight issues, but it’s your staff who’ll step in and fix it with heart. I’ve learned to view AI not as a silver bullet, but as a hospitality amplifier.
Used correctly, it enables us to do what we do best: serve better, connect deeper, and create unforgettable experiences.
Looking Ahead
We’re entering a new era where being tech-forward and people-first are not mutually exclusive. In fact, they’re inseparable. I’m building companies and advising teams that embrace that duality. The best brands in the world will be those who blend artificial intelligence with emotional intelligence—and deliver at scale without losing soul.
Hospitality isn’t dead. It’s evolving.
And I, for one, am here for it.
Chasing Stars vs. Chasing Connection: What Really Matters in Nonprofit Fundraising
If you've worked in the nonprofit space long enough, you’ve probably felt the pressure to achieve a perfect rating on Charity Navigator, Guidestar, or one of the many platforms designed to assess nonprofit effectiveness. Somewhere along the line, these metrics—meant to ensure transparency and accountability—have become the gold standard for trustworthiness in the eyes of potential donors, board members, and foundations. But here's the uncomfortable truth: chasing a perfect score can come at a very real cost.
I know because I’ve been there.
I've seen nonprofits stretch themselves thin trying to meet every metric, checkbox, and fiscal efficiency ratio to perfection. On paper, it looked great. But behind the scenes? Burnout. Missed opportunities for real connection. And ironically, donors who still didn’t feel like they knew us.
There’s a difference between being compliant and being connected.
The Allure of the 100%
For many organizations, a high score feels like validation—a badge of honor that says, “We’re doing it right.” It can open doors to grant opportunities, appease risk-averse donors, and make for impressive year-end fundraising language. But when every decision gets filtered through “how will this affect our rating,” you can start to lose the human element that makes nonprofit work so impactful.
Overhead becomes a dirty word. Investments in tech, team, or storytelling feel like liabilities instead of necessities. You’re not innovating—you’re managing optics. And that’s not a sustainable way to grow.
Relationships > Ratings
Donors don’t fall in love with your pie chart. They fall in love with your mission, your story, your people.
The most loyal donors I’ve worked with—those who gave consistently, advocated on our behalf, and brought others into the fold—didn’t do it because we had a 4-star rating. They did it because they felt seen, valued, and invited into something bigger than themselves. We built relationships. We were real with them about our challenges and our dreams.
Transparency isn’t just financial. It’s emotional. It’s relational. It’s saying, “We might not be perfect, but here’s what we’re doing, and why it matters.”
Where the Magic Happens
The irony? When you build authentic relationships and invest in infrastructure that allows you to actually do the work better, the metrics usually follow. But even if they don’t hit a perfect 100, you’ve built a stronger, more resilient organization. One that prioritizes mission over metrics. People over perfection.
If you’re leading a nonprofit, here’s your permission slip to stop chasing stars and start chasing connection.
Say yes to the CRM system that makes donor relationships easier to manage.
Say yes to professional development for your team, even if it bumps your overhead.
Say yes to spending time getting to know your donors instead of just emailing them quarterly reports.
Because donors aren’t looking for perfection. They’re looking for purpose.
And that’s something no rating system can measure.
How Blogging Led to a Business (and a Ring): The KK Digital Story
When I started writing for Practical Ecommerce and the Bigcommerce blog in the mid-2010s, I never imagined it would lead to anything more than a few backlinks and a chance to document what I was learning. At the time, I was knee-deep in building the Stupid Cancer Store — tinkering with integrations, sweating over shipping logistics, and figuring out how to run an ecommerce operation inside a nonprofit. Sharing that journey publicly felt like the right thing to do.
But something funny happened along the way: people started reaching out.
First it was a few DMs. Then emails. Then small business owners — and even a few fellow nonprofits — asking, “Hey, could you help us do what you did?”
That’s when KK Digital was born.
From Blog Posts to Billable Hours
I didn’t set out to start a consulting company. But the blog posts became my portfolio. Without realizing it, I had built a body of work — case studies in disguise — showing how to use technology to scale purpose-driven ecommerce operations.
KK Digital wasn’t some VC-backed agency. It was scrappy, remote, and entirely bootstrapped. I took on a handful of clients over the years, helping them implement the same tools and strategies I had used at Stupid Cancer: setting up online stores, building automations, integrating third-party apps, and thinking holistically about how digital infrastructure could enable mission.
I learned a lot in the process — not just about ecommerce, but about myself.
Lessons from Running My Own Consultancy
Running a consultancy is humbling in all the right ways. You learn to price your time, set boundaries, manage expectations, and stay organized across multiple clients — often while juggling a full-time role.
Here are a few takeaways that stuck with me:
Thought leadership is a funnel. I didn’t write blog posts expecting clients to come. But when you teach publicly, people notice. And trust builds faster.
You don’t need a big brand to start. KK Digital was just me, a Google Workspace account, and a Stripe link. That was enough.
Your experience is worth something. Even when it feels like you’re making it up as you go (and let’s be honest, sometimes we are), your lived experience is valuable to someone earlier in their journey.
Side projects are investments. KK Digital helped fund my engagement ring purchase.
The Sunset
Eventually, KK Digital took a backseat to other priorities — bigger leadership roles, more demanding jobs, and a growing family. I quietly sunset the consultancy, grateful for what it taught me but fully aware that I couldn’t do everything at once.
And that’s okay.
Not every business needs to be forever. Some just need to be right for right now. KK Digital served its purpose: it stretched me, supported me, and gave me confidence in my ability to create something from scratch — and get paid for it.
Final Thoughts
If you’re out there sharing what you know, don’t be surprised when it opens doors. You never know when a blog post becomes a client lead… or a client check becomes an engagement ring.
KK Digital may be gone, but the lessons (and the marriage) are here to stay.