A lesson from two early mentors

Every now and then, a memory from early in your career comes back so clearly you can still feel the room, the people, and even the nerves. For me, one of those memories goes back to 1984, when Steve Saulten and Pam Siegel hired me at Robert Half, which at the time operated as a franchise.

They interviewed me six different times. Looking back, that alone tells you everything about their standards. What I didn’t know until after I accepted the offer was that Pam Siegel was actually Pam Saulten — Steve’s wife. I remember pausing when he told me and saying, “Your wife?” He just chuckled and said, “Yes.” From that moment on, I realized I was stepping into something special — a partnership that balanced professionalism with trust.

Steve was the steady presence, the head guy who watched over all of us, while Pam ran the office and kept the trais rolling. And what an office it was. They had impeccable taste. It had just been remodeled, and to this day it remains one of the most beautiful workplaces I’ve ever been part of. Everything felt intentional — from the layout to the finishes — right down to the plush carpeting that gave the space a quiet sense of class.

Pam always had my back, even when she was very, very tough on me — and she was. But there was something grounding about knowing I was in a safe place with her, even when I fell short.

One morning I arrived early.. I made the coffee and ran to answer the phone — except I forgot one small but important detail. I never put the coffee pot under the machine. Moments later, I heard the door open. Pam had arrived. And as I turned, there it was — fresh coffee pouring straight onto that beautiful new plush carpeting.

Time slowed down. We locked eyes.

If looks could kill, that might have been the end of my career right there.

She paused, took a breath, and said words I’ve never forgotten:
“You’re lucky I like you. Now let’s clean this up.”

It was such a simple moment, but it carried a lifelong lesson. I had made a mistake — harmless, yes, but still mine. And in that moment, I learned what real leadership looks like: high standards, accountability, and grace.

Not long after the now-famous “carpet incident,” we opened a second office. To my surprise — and candidly, my delight — Steve handpicked me to manage it. That decision meant more to me than I probably expressed at the time. It told me that one mistake didn’t define me and Pam went easy on me. What mattered was how you showed up the next day, how you learned, and how you grew.

Steve and Pam created an environment where you were expected to do things right — but also one where you were allowed to become better. You knew when you messed up, but you also knew you were still standing on solid ground.

Looking back all these years later, I realize that the greatest gift mentors can give you is a safe place to make an honest mistake — and the confidence to take on bigger responsibility afterward.

Pam, if you’re reading this, thank you for the tough love, the belief, and yes — for letting me survive the day I baptized your beautiful new carpet with a full pot of coffee. Those early lessons — and that vote of confidence from you and Steve — stayed with me longer than any placement, any deal, or any title ever could.