Attendee reviews that mean the most

Thousands of attendees have reviewed my presetentations.
Some comments stick out more than others.

Amid the pile of common sentiments like...

"Amazing!"
"Fantastic Presentation!" or
"Thanks for the added humor 🙂"

...there are unique messages from attendees.

Earlier this summer, I was honored to give the opening keynote for the Association of Community Health Nursing Educators Annual Institute in Spokane, Washington.

Two comments stuck out:

"You may have kept my Colleague from leaving!!😭"

and

"Loved your talk—honestly felt like you just walked in, lifted a giant “it’s all my fault” weight off everyone’s shoulders, and said, “Nope, not today!” 🙌 Your reminder that burnout isn’t a personal failure but a response to overloaded systems was both comforting and a little bit revolutionary. I think you just gave a whole room of people permission to unclench their jaws and breathe again—thank you!"

Nursing professors have an uphill battle--one they are prepared to fight! It was a blessing to spend time with them in Spokane.

On being irresponsible

My professional world is topsy-turvy right now. And I needed a break.

In May, I began looking for traditional work again.

I love speaking, coaching, and creating resources for leaders and coworkers who desperately need a more positive work experience.

I am humbled by how many opportunities I get.

In the next few months alone, I will serve

American Hospital Association
Indiana Association of Nursing Professional Development
Wells County Chamber of Commerce
Wellness Council of Indiana
Metropolitan State University of Denver
Association of Rehabilitation Nurses (ARN)
Indiana Organization for Nursing Leadership IONL
The Metro Detroit chapter of the Oncology Nursing Society
Mental Health America
Community Health Network
Ohio Public Health Association, and the
Crossroads Emergency Conference

I’ll be in
🛫Minnesota
🚗Michigan
🚗4 locations in Indiana
🚗Ohio
🛫Washington, D.C.

👨‍💻And I will serve audiences across the country through virtual sessions.

And yet… I know that I need more stable income in our next season of life.
🧑‍🎓We have a third child entering college and the up-and-down of self-employment is a little too unpredictable. If you know, you know.

I’ve been applying to jobs since May–with the hope of continuing to speak whenever possible.

😵‍💫If you are looking for a job right now, you know–it can be a miserable experience.

AI and the economy have disrupted the workplace and job hunting looks different now.

I haven’t followed a linear “progressive” path with my career. That makes my applications difficult to read for AI bots and HR recruiters reviewing my information.

Topsy. Turvy. Need. A. Break.

📅Last Sunday, Kristen and I dropped our daughter off for a week-long mission trip. Our schedules were mostly clear for the first time in… our lives?

“We should get away together,” I said, an hour later, over a vanilla chai latte.

“Yeah, who knows how much longer before we are both back at traditional jobs?” she replied.

Usually, we are too responsible. Noses to the grindstone. Task-oriented.

But we are learning to have fun and embrace the moment.

🚶‍➡️“How about Hocking Hills, in Ohio?” Kristen suggested.

“Let’s do it,” I answered on Sunday afternoon.

We booked an AirBnB, a cute little shipping container in the middle of the country, and left the next morning.

We hiked trails.
We soaked in the hot tub.
We ate dinner at a state park.
We did not work, apply for jobs, or otherwise act responsibly.

😁As a happy surprise, the world did not fall apart while we were off the grid.

Maybe being overly responsible isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

🧘‍♂️Maybe, even when our world is topsy-turvy, we can take a break. Be idle for a little bit. And enjoy ourselves.

Thanks to Leo Umilio for his encouragement to embrace idleness.

The Inverse Relationship Between Busyness and Joy

My first job after college was an internship at my home church.

It was the year 2000 and things were simpler.

I led a college age ministry, and prepared for the day when Kristen and I would enter the mission field in southern Spain. [That day never arrived, but that’s a different story.]

Kristen worked part-time at our local library, we spent a lot of time with friends, and experienced a miscarriage. It wasn’t easy, but it was less… hectic.

I distinctly remember a repeated experience I had during those years. Often, during a drive home at the end of my work day, I had an overwhelming feeling of serendipity.

Life went into slow motion for about ten seconds. A deep sense of gratitude and satisfaction washed over my heart like a sunrise in the middle of the late afternoon.

I don’t know when I stopped having those experiences, but I am certain that their disappearance is correlated to the rising business and increasing speed of life the next two decades. 

A frenetic pace, it turns out, seldom converts to moments of joy and awe.

It’s taken me nearly three years of life at a somewhat slower pace for those unbidden moments of serendipity, awe, and appreciation to bloom again.

What finally pushed those daisies back up to the surface?

Multnomah Falls.

Recently, while on a business trip for a speaking engagement, Kristen and I detoured to the Oregon icon.

My keynote the night before had been electric. The group responded verbally to many of my points, calling back to me, laughing, and groaning with recognition. After the session and many personal conversations with attendees, we grabbed Taco Bell, left Spokane, and drove through a desolate part of Washington state. The dusky sky put on a show of colors, clouds, and contrast that endured for the entire trip. 

The next morning, after a quick breakfast at our Best Western, we drove to the falls. 

As we approached, the grandeur of the site was visible from a distance. We stopped in the middle of the path as other tourists kept buzzing back and forth.

I was struck. Breathless. Tears came to my eyes. I was speechless.

The purpose of our trip to the Pacific Northwest was to a) inform an association of nursing professors that it’s not their fault they feel so burned out, b) tell them my burnout story, and c) give them some practical tips for recovery. 

Twelve hours later, we stood in awe of the upper and lower falls that featured in the movie, “The Shack.” 

Awe.

Appreciation.

Serendipity.

Joy cannot be forced. It has to dawn on you.

It dawned on me again during that trip.

May your frenetic pace slow long enough this week for you to feel awe, to appreciate, and to have joy dawn on you.

Spiders, Systems, and Good Intentions

I don’t have anything against spiders, personally.

They have a job to do. I respect that.

However, I have a job to do as well.

That job? Keeping a clean porch.

Are you already anticipating our epic battle? My years-long struggle included daily knocking down webs near my front door.

These are hard-working spiders–able to create massive webs in 24 hours.

Jokes on them, though. I can clean up the corners nightly with a swipe of the broom.

It only takes me a few minutes. Of course, it required my repeated attention.

These daily skirmishes continued every summer for longer than I’d like to admit.

Then, one day, I stopped to think.

“What’s my goal?” A clean porch.

“Is this method effective?” Somewhat. The webs were cleared momentarily, but eventually they returned.

“Was it a good use of my time?” Apparently not, since they keep coming back.

“Were my intentions good?” Yes. I wanted to have a clean porch.

“Didn’t the spiders learn that this isn’t a good place for webs?” Apparently not.

“Why did they keep building webs?” To eat, of course.

“What made this a good place to build a web?” Ah, I was getting somewhere.

The porch light. The one I kept having to clean. It attracts their prey–insects.

So, one night, before I stepped outside to knock down the spider webs yet again, I paused. A light dawned on me. I looked over at the panel of switches just inside my dirty front door.

There were three that controlled external lights in front of my house. One for the light post. Another controlled the lights on either side of the garage door. And the final was dedicated to the single light on my front porch. The beckoning call to the moths and other insects that inspired the spiders to rebuild their webs.

I needed to change the system.

So… wait for it… I turned off the light next to my front door.

The next day, there were still spider webs.

No one said spiders are fast learners.

I knocked them down. And left the porch dark again that night.

Fewer webs the next morning.

Now, a few years on, I always leave that light off. And the spiders have all moved on to better hunting grounds.

My intentions and goals are still the same–a clean porch.

The outcome has improved–the porch is cleaner.

My effort, although it wasn’t great to begin with, has been reduced to zero.

This is the difference between having a leader who wants to support the wellbeing of their team and having a system that supports their wellbeing.

Stick with me.

A supportive leader will take supportive actions routinely. Maybe daily–just like I did when I was knocking down the webs.

They will work hard to support their team.

Except when they are on vacation, or overworked, or sick, or simply in a meeting.

They will routinely knock down those webs. Their intention is good.

But the outcome? It’s spotty.

The effort? They would argue it’s worth it.

The felt effect? The coworkers feel supported–sometimes.

Systems are like turning off the porch light.

For example. Imagine that a supportive leader without systems in place learns that a coworker has experienced a death in their family. The leader calls them. Offers sympathy. Sends a card. Maybe attends the funeral. They are a good leader–knocking down webs often.

However, there are more holes in this approach than a piece of Swiss cheese.

What if the coworker never tells their leader about the death of the loved one?

What if the leader isn’t supportive?

What if the relation of the deceased doesn’t qualify for bereavement time?

What if the leader simply forgets to send the card, or check-in on the coworker, or go to the funeral?

What if, God forbid, the leader doesn’t like that coworker?

Or that coworker doesn’t like the leader?

Or the leader is out on FMLA when the death occurs?

The process of knocking down webs, although not labor-intensive, requires constant attention.

In this situation, what systems could equate to turning off the front porch light?

In my last workplace, we posted a bereavement form on our intranet site. It was simple and could be completed by the coworker or their leader. When they submitted the form, a notification was sent to HR and me (Chaplaincy Director).

The details were few. The name of the coworker. The name of the deceased. The relationship between the two. And the name of the coworker’s leader.

Next, HR automatically initiated a memorial gift. Over the years, the gifts varied from wind chimes, a memorial plaque, or a donation to the health system foundation to honor the deceased.

Simultaneously, an email landed in my inbox. I created Outlook rules to funnel these messages into a special folder.

Once a week, I sent emails to these coworkers. I expressed support, and offered resources.

Admittedly, I used a copy and paste message, although I often customized it slightly.

The email explained some of the other systems we had in place.

Support groups. EAP counselors. Grief materials in our chaplaincy office, and real live chaplains in every facility.

Over time, I developed a second email that I sent to the leader. The leader's email gave them tips on how to respond as their coworker was grieving.

Sometimes, the grieving coworker had a supportive leader and team. Those coworkers often replied to my email praising their “work family” for being there for them in their time of need.

Other times, the reply was more grim. “At least someone acknowledged what happened. I had to fill out the form myself.” Imagine if the system had not been in place. Their anger would have multiplied.

But we turned off the porch light.

At a basic level, we never missed showing support to our coworkers (in a huge health system) when their loved ones died.

This principle can be applied to everything from quality and compliance to the mental health of coworkers.

A few other examples:

A leader who always reminds their direct reports to maintain quality standards vs. Tools that make it nearly impossible to miss required documentation

A leader who supports the use of EAP counselors vs. A department practice of requiring an EAP visit after 90 days of employment

A leader who cares about the personal vitality of their coworkers vs. A routine of dedicating five minutes at each staff meeting to discuss mental health

Turn off the light.

I know you don’t mind knocking down the webs.

You’re committed.

Your intentions are good.

But the outcome is spotty.

Just. Pause. And find the light that needs to be turned off.

It might take more effort than leaving my front porch light off (which takes no effort). But once systems are in place, they work day and night. Make sure their work lines up with your intentions.

Good systems defeat good intentions every minute of every day.

What exactly do I do?

I’ll be honest, when I am invited to speak for an event, I tend to re-use the same speaker bio over and over.

But recently, when Community Health in Indy asked for my bio prior to an event, I was bored.

So, I wrote a fresh bio from scratch.

Here it is:

Patrick Riecke. MA, is an author and national speaker on the topics of healthcare burnout and leadership development. His compassionate, sincere, and practical approach has two foundations. First, as a healthcare director for many years, he supported coworkers struggling under the weight of their work. Second, he demonstrates vulnerability about his own burnout experience—and his fateful encounter with a crash cart while a patient in his own hospital. Patrick blends seriousness about the burnout epidemic with lighthearted humor as he provides resources and solutions to leaders and coworkers alike.