Because some people don’t just do the work, they change the way the world feels
Every once in a while I get the chance to shine a light on someone who makes my world (and a lot of other people’s) infinitely better. Today, that someone is Cassandra Cleare, someone I get to call a colleague, a friend, and honestly, one of those rare people who makes you wonder how we ever functioned before she came along.
Cassandra and I met through NANETS, which you’ll recognize as the common thread in a lot of my relationships. That organization has introduced me to lifelong friends, and Cassandra is at the heart of it all. I say “at the heart” intentionally, because calling her the “event planner” or “administrator” or whatever tidy title you want to stick on her doesn’t even come close. She is the heartbeat. The thing that keeps the whole system running smoothly, and the person who reminds you that there’s humanity behind the logistics.
She does all this while being a mother to the most adorable kiddos, raising new twin babies at the height of her career, and juggling being fully present in both sides of her life no matter where she is in the world. She balances the fierceness it takes to be a corporate leader with the softness it takes to fulfill her role as mother, daughter, sister, and wife. We have yet to meet her kids in person, but they do make appearances every week on our calls. Somehow she’s able to mute seamlessly mid-sentence, get them in line, then pick up right where she left off — all while saving God knows what disaster or spill. I’ve begged her to bring them to the annual conference and have yet to win that debate, but maybe one day…
Before Cassandra was orchestrating the chaos of medical conferences and keeping hundreds of us sane, she was in culinary school (something I only learned a year ago, somehow??) and worked in hospitality. The one year she was on maternity leave and didn’t attend NANETS, her absence was immediately, and I mean 7 a.m. on day one of registration immediately. I held off on texting her at first, because I know what it feels like to be “the person everyone waits for,” and how hard it is to take time off without things falling apart. But at some point…I caved and texted her (see below…). Within 30 minutes, the room’s temperature was normal. I’m not sure who she texted or called at the hotel, but I know our cardigans that kept getting pulled on and off were all grateful to her.
If you’re on the receiving end of someone like Cassandra and me, please know this: yes, we love being who we are. We love problem-solving. We love being the go-to person and caring for the people around us. But we also need to know the world won’t collapse without us. We need the grace of others holding down the fort when we’re gone. Because loving what you do doesn’t erase the need for a break. When I took a 2-month leave of absence a few years ago, I desperately needed a reprieve, but I was called and texted daily. And when I came back, I came back to emails that hadn’t been touched since day one of my leave. That triggered my first “lose-my-shit” moment at work in six years. I demanded help or I would walk. The problem was, everyone expected me to come back rested and ready to dive in. How was I supposed to do that when nothing had been taken care of in my absence?
We talk a lot in medicine about the “front lines,” but the truth is, the whole structure collapses without the people like Cassandra who are quietly running the show in the background. They’re the ones making space for the rest of us to do what we do.
And that’s where I want to pause and reflect for a minute, because Cassandra reminds me of something I’ve been learning the hard way: we are quick to celebrate the people with the loudest voices, the biggest titles, the fanciest credentials. But the truth is, much of the meaningful work in life happens quietly. It happens in the margins, in the late-night emails, in the thoughtfulness of someone double-checking details so the rest of us can shine. Invisible labor doesn’t mean unimportant labor. In fact, it’s often the opposite. The quietest people are often the ones carrying the heaviest load.
Cassandra’s path also shows us something else: following your passions and natural abilities doesn’t doom you to the cliché of being a “starving artist in a Brooklyn loft.” It means you can find the spaces where those passions fit into real careers. Life isn’t black-and-white, and neither are the jobs that exist in the world. Dynamic people fit dynamic worlds, and the world needs a little of everything. Think about that when you’re choosing your major in college, or even the next book you’re going to pick up.
If you think back on your own life, I bet you can name a few Cassandras — people who don’t demand credit, who don’t push their way to the front, but who make everything better just by being there. The teacher who made you feel seen. The friend who remembered the thing you said in passing and showed up when you needed it most. The colleague who made sure you ate lunch before your 12-hour shift. These are the people who change us, who sustain us, who make the chaos feel bearable.
Very rarely do I run into people like this in my own life. Maybe it’s because being the eldest daughter means you end up being everyone’s eldest daughter, and you attract people who need that role filled (an honor I carry proudly). So finding someone else who embodies that for me? It’s truly a breath of fresh air. When we’re at a conference or in a meeting, Cassandra is the person who can tell when I’m okay and when I’m not. She can read my thoughts just from the way my eyebrows go up or down, and she will never fail to text me a little nudge when I need it.
So, if you want to know what makes Cassandra Cassandra, go listen to this episode. You’ll hear the humor, the passion, the quiet strength, and probably wonder how she manages it all too. And if you’re lucky enough to have someone like her in your orbit: hold onto them. Because people like Cassandra are rare, and when they show up, they change everything.