They happened around a kitchen table on a Sunday afternoon. Over good food, loud laughter, and the kind of honest conversation that only happens when everyone feels safe enough to tell the truth.

Growing up, those dinners were non-negotiable. And without knowing it, they were teaching me the most important lesson of my life: the stories we tell shape how people see us and how we see ourselves.

As a child, one of my favorite rituals was flipping through the weekly TV Guide and circling every show I planned to watch. I was fascinated by the anatomy of a well-told story — the motives behind the villain, the psychology of the protagonist, the tension of a perfect plot twist, and the emotions that linger long after the credits roll. On library days, which my dad made sure happened at least once a week, I’d walk through those double doors with my little hand in his, convinced I’d been granted access to something magical.

At the time, I had no idea I was being prepared for this chapter of my life. Today, I listen to stories for a living. And the most consistent thing I’ve found across every client, every industry, and every background is that people are sitting on stories that are worthy of the world’s attention. They just need someone they trust enough to help them tell it.