There's No Such Thing As a Podcast Emergency
You are a person before you are a product. Always.
Hi, all. Wil here with a bit of a different edition of PMM. It’s going to be a little less whimsical and a little more solemn in tone this week as we process the tragedy of the Palisades Fire.
The fires have directly impacted so many in our industry, including several members of our team here at Tink. We are all, thankfully, safe. As one of the members of Tink least directly impacted by this event, I wanted to share one of our workplace credos as my beloved teammates rest and process.
At Tink, we remind ourselves that there is no such thing as a podcast emergency — our way of reminding ourselves that before we are marketers, and before we are products, we are people. When the work can wait (when there aren’t contractual mandates for timeliness, for instance) and you need a moment to pause, you should never feel guilty for taking that pause.
We give each other this credo when grappling with the Palisades Fire, with Hurricane Helene last year, and on more individual levels as well. That’s the perspective I’m going to share today as an example for how this credo has helped me stay afloat during scary and uncertain times. I hope this will be understood just as one specific example and not as a comparison to any event with a wider impact than the individual.
In November, I had a major, life-changing surgery. I was told I could return to work in about two weeks, but that full recovery would take six weeks. The operation was scheduled quickly and suddenly, and while I knew my colleagues were happy to help carry my workload while I recovered, I still felt guilty. After the first two weeks, I was still struggling with brain fog and intense fatigue. But I kept trying to push through due to a sense of urgency I couldn’t shake.
For me, and I think for many others, it’s about a sense of control. I felt out of control in my body; I’m sure so many people in other situations have felt a similar sense of helplessness. It was easier for me to point to myself as the reason I was working “too slowly” instead of accepting that it was something outside of my control (recovery time). I could tell myself that my pace was my fault, and I just needed to work harder. It made me feel like I could fix the slow pace that was causing my guilt.
Working harder made the problem worse, and that made me feel like I was letting people down. The guilt got worse, and the cycle started anew.
But I am very, very lucky to work with a team who all quickly hopped in to remind me they were there to help. That if I needed more time, I could have it. That none of my tasks or projects were more important than my physical and mental health. I was reminded that there is no such thing as a podcast emergency — that the work we do always comes second to our needs as human people.
Not all work can wait. Not all teams would have rushed to support me and help me when I needed it. I have been part of much harsher, overworked, rushed teams, and I am deeply sympathetic to everyone who cannot take the time they need to process when something interrupts their life with grief, or pain, or fear, or a lack of motivation.
But to anyone who can, especially to my indie creators making their living in podcasting, I encourage you to always pause before making a decision to work through the hardship. I encourage you to ask yourself if your work truly must come before taking care of yourself.
Your audience will not leave you if you need to drop an episode late. Your podcast will not fail because you couldn’t stick to your marketing goals for a week. Your community will not feel abandoned if you need to take a break from social media. None of these things are emergencies. Your needs as a human are always more urgent than the needs of what you create.
You are not a product. You are not your job, and you are not what you create. You are worth more than your productivity. You are worth more than your ability to persevere. You are worth resting for. You are worth tending to. You are worth receive care, support, and space. Nothing, and especially not regularly scheduled programming, is worth more than that.
Ask yourself if the work genuinely, truly needs to be done right away — or if taking the blame for it not getting done is a way to feel in control when things feel helpless. If you wouldn’t rush your most beloved coworker when they were working through something difficult, I hope you remember that you shouldn’t rush yourself either. You are as much a human person as that beloved coworker. They would want you to give yourself the kindness you would give them.
I look up to all of my teammates at Tink who gave me the love, support, and time I needed. That’s the kind of person, teammate, and friend I want to be. And as I took that rest, and I took that time, and I took that support, I reminded myself that the best way to practice that kind of love is in how I treat myself every day. That’s how I make it a habit. That’s how I better understand my needs and what work really can take longer than I would otherwise like. That’s how I become more like the teammates I look up to.
I hope you can move towards doing the same for yourself. You have permission. You are worth it.
With much love,
Wil 🦇
💯! I would go further and say that no work will ever be more important than your family's wellbeing. Last year, I was told I could have cancer. In a second, not a single piece of work stayed in my head. All I cared about was my family and my girls. It turned out it wasn’t cancer, but what I’ve learnt is that when faced with some drastic situations, nature reminds us what matters the most.