First Thing Monday #55

This week we prioritize post-deadline recovery, decode feedback resistance, and chase that perfect summer sneaker ❤️‍🩹🦜👟

Apr 14, 2025

👋 Hi folks! I’m back after an unexpectedly long break from the newsletter. Each March and April, I host a recruitment and reunion event at work. The last few months have been busy prepping for our event AND also project managing the design of our new office. All of that to say, rest and recuperation are on the brain these days. How do you take care of yourself after a big deadline or project? Share your recovery ritual in the comments—I'd love to feature reader strategies in our next issue!

FTM is a newsletter that includes a recap of all the news you need to know to make better career decisions. Each issue also includes four tips for improving your relationships at work and a deep dive into a pressing topic. Issues come out on Monday mornings!

❓ Have a work question or topics you’d like us to discuss? Drop me a line 📱 simply reply to this email or leave a comment below!

I’m Jon Cochran, a workplace sociologist with over 16 years of experience leading operations, sales, and product development teams and working with brands like J.Crew, Hilton, and Duke University. I want to provide resources to help you take control of your career and maximize your satisfaction in the workplace.

⏰ What to read before your first meeting:

Managers Have Won the War on Remote Work. But Where Does Everyone Sit? (The Intelligencer): Corporate America is rapidly reversing remote work policies, with companies like WPP, JP Morgan, and Amazon implementing strict return-to-office mandates. For mid-career professionals who've built lives around remote flexibility: 1) Consider how visible your contributions are, as in-person presence increasingly correlates with advancement; and 2) Prepare for potential space constraints as companies that downsized offices now struggle to accommodate returning workers. Hot desks for all!
Don’t make small talk. Think big talk (The Atlantic): Research shows most conversations fail because people don't prepare for them, don't listen well, and stay superficial. Want more rewarding conversations? Try the "TALK" framework: prepare interesting Topics beforehand, Ask genuine follow-up questions, maintain Levity with a good-humored tone, and practice Kindness by focusing on others' needs. Don't fear deeper discussions—research shows substantive topics boost well-being more than small talk. For small-talk haters: See it as a necessary bridge to meaningful connection and approach seemingly superficial exchanges with curiosity about what they reveal about the other person.
Stress is contagious. Here’s how not to catch it. (The Washington Post): As an empath who absorbs others' emotions, I find this research eye-opening—we're biologically wired to transmit stress, especially through visual cues. The antidote? Building stronger relationships that provide emotional buffering through consistent communication, active listening, predictable routines, and mutual support. While we're wired to share stress, these same social mechanisms can relieve it through supportive relationships, creating a reciprocal system that maintains stability. There's an important balance at play—while we're biologically wired to share stress, the same social mechanisms that transmit stress can also help relieve it through supportive relationships. Sounds easy enough!
Young people today are much older than young people used to be (8Ball): Today's youth paradoxically mature slower socially (marrying later, 70% less face-to-face interaction since 2003) while aging faster biologically due to tech-induced stress. For workplaces, this means: 1) Younger colleagues likely developed with fundamentally different social experiences and may need support with interpersonal skills; 2) Balance digital and in-person communication; and 3) Adjust expectations of traditional career timelines—what worked for you may not apply to younger co-workers.
Code Words for Resistance to Feedback (Admired Leadership Notes): I've been there—delivering clear feedback only to see no improvement weeks later. Responses like "I'm working on that" or "That doesn't match my experience" often aren't clarifications but resistance strategies. These tactics work because they appear as engagement: someone asking for examples seems curious rather than challenging credibility. As leaders, we must recognize when deflection creates an illusion of receptivity and push through by establishing concrete action plans rather than accepting verbal acknowledgments as proof of change.

Which of these workplace trends is affecting you most right now? Reply to let me know, and I'll dig deeper in upcoming newsletters.

🚰 The Water Cooler

Since first hearing about Ezra Edelman’s Prince documentary, I’ve been excited to see it. Then Netflix and the Prince estate canceled the project. Lucky for us, Wesley Morris and Pablo Torre saw an early screener of the documentary and lived to tell the tale.
Did you know the primary printer of Pokémon cards is right here in North Carolina?!
The Art of Organized Noize is one of my favorite documentaries. It goes deep into the story behind Organized Noize, the Atlanta production team behind hits for Outkast, TLC, and Goodie Mob. It was sad, then, when Rico Wade, one of Oranized Noize’s founders died last year. I appreciated this update on the crew and how they continue to celebrate Rico’s legacy and Organized Noize’s influence on Atlanta culture.
Can we all just get behind the flirty crewneck cardigan?
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📖 Reflections for this week:

When the dust settles after a particularly intense period at work, intentional recovery isn't just nice—it's necessary. Here's how to approach rest across your key workplace relationships.

For yourself: Honor your depletion. The body keeps score of the late nights, skipped lunches, and stress hormones. Begin with the basics—sleep, nutrition, movement—but also create space for whatever rejuvenates your spirit specifically. This might mean quiet solitude, creative expression, or time in nature. Resist the urge to immediately fill recovered time with productivity. True restoration requires permission to do seemingly "unproductive" things that actually refill your reserves.

For your boss: Have a recovery conversation. Share what you learned during the busy period, what support would help you recharge, and how you plan to approach future intense periods with more sustainability. If possible, negotiate a clear boundary around your recovery time—perhaps flexible hours for a week or protection from new major initiatives until you've regained solid footing.

For your direct report(s): Model healthy recovery. Your team watches what you do more than what you say. Demonstrate boundaries by actually taking time off, not sending late-night emails, and speaking openly about your recovery needs. Allow for their recovery too—consider a team "pressure release" session to acknowledge accomplishments, process challenges, and reset priorities for the upcoming period.

For your co-workers: Reset expectations gently. After an all-hands-on-deck period, colleagues may have grown accustomed to your immediate responsiveness. Communicate your need to recalibrate, perhaps by updating your availability status, setting an email auto-response, or blocking recovery time on your calendar. This isn't just for you—it helps establish a culture where everyone can honor their recovery needs.

Recovery isn't just about feeling better—it's about performing better in the long run. The most effective professionals aren't those who never rest; they're those who know how to recover strategically.

⚡️ And one last thing…

It was approximately 1995, when Vans and Airwalks were the shoes of cool kids. While we waited for Vans to come to Macon, I noticed some other kids who had taken to wearing the Converse One Star. The One Star is like the saucier version of the All Star; different shape with a giant star on each side. The ones I'd seen at school were suede, and that seemed so luxurious. It was the first time I had ever lusted after an object and they became a first of many shoes obsessions to enter my life.

At this point, catalogs reigned supreme long before we could simply scroll through choices. The Eastbay catalog was the front lines of what was cool and where the kind of style I was interested in was going. When you consider my other catalog of choice at the time was J.Crew, you can understand how my adult style developed the way it did. These catalogs also meant that my taste was simply beyond my means. As a ten-year-old, I’d just discovered that I could con my parents out of a few dollars here and there if I did more chores around the house. This could lead to a bit of a nest egg for the luxuries I studied in those catalogs, but I was also entranced by music and would immediately spend any money earned on CD singles.

There was something that seemed so out of reach when it came to buying something expensive like a pair of shoes. Like how could I, as a child, ever afford something as expensive as a whole pair of shoes. But the dream stuck around. I'd come to dreaming up of all the scenarios of where I would wear these shoes and why. I’d even prayed to God and promised I’d never be mean to my sister again if he would just send me these shoes. They were no longer a want but a need. I have memories of several dramatic displays of upset at what would become of my life if I did not get these shoes.

By the time we finally went to the mall, I'd become well acquainted with sale season, or the time when the thing you want just finally might become somewhat more affordable and less financially insane and you just might be able to take it home. We got to Small Sports (the kids version of local chain, Wall Sports) just in time—it was Sunday and the last day of the sale. The One Stars in suede still cost too much, but luck had a different path for me when it presented the canvas option. Turns out, no one else at school had the canvas ones. As I traced the star on the the side of one of the shoes, I looked up to my dad and whispered, "Can we get them?" We walked to the register and I'd never felt cooler.

This first lust had turned into my first love, that first item of clothing or object that represented the first time I made a style decision for myself. This shoe wasn't chosen for me, it was chosen by me. And to my ten-year-old self, that made all the difference.

I did not want that new shoe smell to go away. It was a unique smell of rubber and probably glue. I knew because the shoes were canvas, they were machine washable. Not that I was prone to getting dirty, but rather to prevent the accumulation of muck that takes over kids shoes. No puddles for me! Even though the shoes were for "summer," I was able to start wearing them to school immediately. They made me feel like I was ready for the change of seasons. Did anyone else even notice that I'd joined the One Star club? I don't think they cared. And honestly, I can't remember caring either. I was just so proud to be part of the group.

This pair of One Stars started an obsession with canvas sneakers that have come to include versions by Nike, Vans, Converse Chuck Taylors and Jack Purcells. The Jack Purcells, in fact, became my personality circa 2007-2015. I'd been able to purchase three pairs at a sample sale that kept me going for a while. This fifth-grade experience revealed that some of what we are drawn to and some of our adult style habits were formed early.

Just last month, I found myself in a familiar situation. While scrolling on my phone, I came across a pair of limited-edition canvas sneakers with subtle embroidered details—a collaboration between Converse and a designer I admire. As I deliberated over the price tag, I remembered thinking about this new shoe exactly as I had about that One Star decades ago. That familiar flutter returned, that certainty that these weren't just shoes but a summer waiting to happen. Years later, I still approach the register with the same quiet thrill, knowing that with each new pair, I'm not just preparing for the season but affirming a choice my ten-year-old self made long ago. The perfect summer shoes remain a necessity, but they also continue to mark not just the seasons but versions of myself, even now.