All Work is Personal

A lesson from 9/11

Colleagues first, Keith and I were like brothers until he passed away in 2006.

My creative director and I were chatting about the day ahead, the projects and clients who made our lives fascinating and frustrating. Another colleague trotted by and said, “A plane just flew into the World Trade Center.”

We followed her to the conference room where we joined others watching the events unfold on the local news. Our design studio was in Rockefeller Center, a few miles from the Twin Towers. Some began wondering aloud about personal connections who worked downtown.

Someone pointed at the TV and said, “What’s that?” Before anyone could answer, a second plane hit the South Tower. We fell silent. A collective dread permeated the air.

We watched as the towers collapsed, first one, then the other. We gasped. We hugged one another. Some cried, others ran from the room. I called my dad in California to let him know I was okay; he knew that my route to work often took me through the subway station under the World Trade Center around the time of the attacks. He was glad to hear I’d decided to walk in the fine September sunshine instead.

We got word from above that we should stay in the studio. My creative director disagreed. He said, “There are attacks all over the country. We’re in a historic building. We need to go.” So we left. Others stayed. He couldn’t get back to…