We Just Got Robbed

“We just got robbed.”

I’ll never forget the look on everyone’s faces when I walked out of that restaurant.

One part of the team frozen. Others paced. Two of them repeating, “All our shit’s gone.”

Oh, Honduras… you son of a bitch.

Here we were on our first team retreat. Headed to an island we had rented for the weekend that was supposed to be… a surprise.

We’d been traveling all day by bus from the capital city of San Pedro, and after hours on the road, we decided to stop for pizza.

In hindsight… we probably should’ve just kept going. LOL.

I’m a well-seasoned traveler, and being in a dangerous country wasn’t my first rodeo.

But the excitement of having the whole team together for the first time? Clouded our judgment.

The common sense not to flash MacBooks, cash, and obvious signs of wealth in front of the bus driver—let alone leave all our shit on the bus?

Turns out, that kind of sense wasn’t so common that day.

Long story less long, homie set us up.

While we were inside the restaurant, our shit got hijacked—laptops, passports, and half the crew’s credit cards. Gone.

After paying the bill, I walked outside to find the team distressed—and realized what had just happened.

In that moment, I had two choices:

1.) Feed into the panic and escalate the emotions already running high across the team.

2.) Or… lead.

Because when chaos hits, the room gets loud. Everything jumps ten decibel levels.

Voices sharpen. Emotions spike.

People start showing you exactly where their emotional capacity ends.

In moments like that, people don’t need more panic.

They need someone calm, clear, and grounded to step in and lead the room.

That moment taught me more about leadership than any book or podcast ever could.

Challenging times are inevitable. It's just part of life. Shit goes wrong.

Things break. People make mistakes.

And depending on your work, that chaos can look like a delayed client project… or a total system collapse.

As a leader, you have a responsibility to expand your emotional capacity and sharpen your skillset—to remain grounded in the face of chaos.

People will follow. They’ll take direction. They’ll support however they can.

But they can’t do any of that effectively until someone steps up, demonstrates emotional sturdiness, and delivers clear, simple direction.

We all have people in our lives we’d never call in a crisis.

Not because we don’t love them—but because their nervous system can’t hold the weight of the moment.

The “omg’s,” the “are you okay’s,” the “I can’t believe this is happening” knee-jerk reactions might seem empathetic…

But in high-stress situations, they’re not just unhelpful—they quietly erode trust in that person’s ability to lead or stabilize the room.

Because leadership isn’t just about making decisions.

It’s about how you show up when everything feels like it’s falling apart.

Anyone can lead when things are smooth.

But true leadership is measured in the moments that test your patience, your presence, and your ability to stay steady when others can’t.

If you want to be someone people turn to in times of crisis—someone your team can truly trust—then your job is simple:

Become the calm in the storm.

That’s what people follow. That’s what creates safety. That’s what makes you unforgettable as a leader.

When the room shakes, people don’t look for the smartest voice.

They look for the steadiest one.

Reflecting back on that night, there were so many moments that reminded me just how important it is to stay grounded—and to keep taking deeper roots.

Like when Daniel came up to me and said, “Oh Nat, I’m so sorry, I never wanted us to have to meet for the first time this way.”

I smiled, hugged him, and said… “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Or Ronny, who looked at me in that tiny police station and said, “How are you so calm right now?”

As we sat there, resetting passwords and freezing credit cards… I just looked at him and smiled.

Because the truth is—someone had to be.

P.S. We all carry stories of chaos, and the people who showed up in the middle of it.

If you’ve got one—the moment you supported the room or watched someone else do it—reply and tell us. We'd love to read it.