Some experiences don’t just stay with you – they change you. This is a series of personal stories from our colleagues about the moments that shifted how they think, lead, and work. Hear from our Head of Creative Services, Bob Copper.
I missed it. I thought I knew, but here’s the experience that changed me.
I grew up at a time where mental health wasn’t really a thing. Everyone was expected to get on with it, not burden anyone else or show weakness. And honestly… that’s exactly what I did. Through the long hours of my career, juggling motherhood, in an industry that had zero flexibility for working parents, I kept going. Pushed through. Told myself I didn’t have a choice, and at the time, I probably didn’t.
The events industry, as anyone in it knows, is not for the faint-hearted. Fast-paced is an understatement. Stressful is a given. And for a long time, we were expected to thrive in the chaos, wear it like a badge of honour. I certainly did.
What I missed
I started my career as a designer, spent years doing creative work with all the pressures our industry brings. So, when as a Studio Manager, a designer on my team started to struggle, I thought I understood. But here’s what I hadn’t fully accounted for or remembered. For a creative, the work isn’t just work, something has to come from somewhere deeply personal. Every critique, every change request, every redirect lands differently. This project had been months in the making, layers of complex design changes, followed by a gruelling on-site delivery, long hours, fractious colleagues, and blame directed their way that simply wasn’t theirs to carry. By the time it was over, of course they were running on empty.
Maybe, if I’m honest… I didn’t want to see it coming. The pressure was the job itself, a demanding client, a tight budget, work that only they truly owned, and I had no easy solution to offer. Sometimes, when you can’t fix something, it’s easier not to see it. That’s the part that still sits with me, because I had done that job. I knew that world inside out. But my experience wasn’t a bridge to understanding theirs, it was a wall. I was measuring them against a version of me conditioned for decades not to crack, not to ask for help, not to admit it was too much.
They needed to step away and take the time their mental health was asking for. When they came back, the transition out happened quickly, and then they were gone. A brilliant person and a talented designer, whose departure left a real gap, in the team’s knowledge, and in me. I was left sitting with questions I should have been asking much sooner.
What I learned
After that, things changed, starting with me and how I lead. I began to listen, rather than just check in. I became more mindful of other people’s thresholds, stopped using my own as the benchmark, and stopped assuming that not hearing a problem meant there wasn’t one.
I was also fortunate to do my Mental Health First Aid training through the company. Every manager should do it. Not because it turns you into a counsellor, it doesn’t. But because it shifts how you see people, sharpens what you notice, and gives you the confidence to act early rather than hoping someone will just get through it.
Your experience is your filter, not anyone else’s reality. Just because you’ve coped doesn’t mean they will or should have to. Stress tolerance isn’t a personality trait, it’s personal, it’s contextual, and it changes.
Listen actively. Watch for the quiet signals. And if, like me, you’re programmed to see resilience as the only option, be a little gentle with yourself too… because unlearning that stuff takes time.
Experience changes everything. Including, eventually, the way you lead.
