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Last April, I walked into a VIP dinner at Leadercast and immediately wondered what I was doing there.
I was surrounded by accomplished people from across the country and around the world. My internal dialogue was loud: What is Erin from little Iowa doing HERE? These people belong here. Not me.
Then I started having conversations.
I listened to a film director from California, a professional soccer player who had competed in the World Cup, and advisory board members from other states and countries. A world-class gymnast even approached me because I was wearing a pink blazer and, as it turned out, looked approachable.
As the evening went on, the room changed for me. Not because anyone’s accomplishments became less impressive, but because I stopped seeing a collection of titles and started seeing people.
Every person had a story. Every person had experiences that led them into that room. And so did I.
That night reminded me of something I believe deeply: connection starts with showing up and is built through curiosity.
What we risk losing
Artificial intelligence and automation are changing how we work at a remarkable pace. Tasks that once took hours can happen in minutes.
I see the potential, and I use technology to make my own work more effective. But I also wonder what happens when we become so focused on what technology can do that we forget what people bring.
For someone who has spent years developing a skill, a changing role is not just an operational adjustment. It can feel personal. If a tool can now do part of what I do, where does that leave me? Does my experience still matter?
I think about the people at that dinner. A short description of each person’s accomplishments would have told me something about them. But it would not have told me what shaped them, what they cared about, what they had overcome, or why they were there.
Their value was never limited to a résumé. Neither is ours.
Technology can help us complete work. It cannot replace the trust built when someone feels heard, the confidence gained when someone sees our potential, or the sense of belonging that comes from being welcomed into a room where we once felt out of place.
Curiosity changes the conversation
In my role in events and engagement, I have the privilege of bringing people together. Technology helps with the logistics: registrations, communications, schedules, and the hundreds of details behind every gathering.
But no registration platform can make a person feel they belong. That happens when someone notices them, asks a question, makes an introduction, or stays in the conversation long enough to discover something unexpected.
At that Leadercast dinner, I could have stayed quiet, convinced that everyone else had earned their seat and I somehow hadn’t. Instead, conversations gave me a different perspective. I did not need the same experiences as the people around me to contribute something meaningful.
The same lesson applies when teams navigate change. A leader can explain a new tool, provide training, and announce a more efficient process. Those steps matter. But they do not answer every human question underneath the change.
Do I still belong here? Is there room for what I know? Will someone listen if I am struggling?
Sometimes the most valuable leadership response is not an immediate solution. It is a real conversation. It is asking what someone is worried about, what strengths they want to keep using, and what opportunities they might not yet see.
Curiosity does not erase uncertainty. It makes space for people to move through it together.
See. Spark. Create.
I have been developing a simple framework for meaningful connection: SEE. SPARK. CREATE.
SEE people. Look beyond titles, job descriptions, and first impressions. Remember that every person carries a story you do not yet know.
SPARK possibility. Ask questions. Listen for what energizes someone, what they have learned, and what they hope to do next. One conversation can open a door neither person expected.
CREATE impact. Do something with what you discover. Introduce two people. Share a resource. Invite someone into a new opportunity. Follow up when a colleague is navigating a difficult transition.
Impact does not have to mean changing the world. It might mean helping one person recognize that their experience still has value, even when their work is changing.
That is the opportunity I see in this moment. If technology gives us back time, what if we intentionally invested some of it in people? What if efficiency made more room for mentoring, listening, collaboration, and the conversations that help someone feel they belong?
We cannot automate genuine curiosity. We cannot generate a shared history or manufacture the trust that grows when people show up for one another.
I walked into that dinner questioning whether I belonged. I left recognizing that each of us had something to offer because of the lives we had lived—not in spite of them.
As technology changes the way we work, I hope we remember that our experiences, joys, challenges, and relationships are not extras. They are part of the value we bring.
The future may ask us to work differently. It should never ask us to forget what makes us human.




