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I Dressed as a Cleaning Woman in My Own Office Building for 3 Weeks — Every Executive Walked Past Me Like I Was Furniture — But One Junior Analyst Stopped Every Single Morning and Asked My Name and How I Was Doing — On the Day I Walked Back In as the CEO He Was the Only Person in That Building Who Already Knew the Answer" My mother used to say, if you want to know the true character of a place, do not walk through the front door. Walk through the service entrance. Walk through the back. Put on the uniform that nobody notices and move through the halls invisible, and what you see in those halls, what people do when they believe no one important is watching, that is the truth of the place. That is who they actually are. I built my company over fourteen years. I built it from a two-room office in Midtown Atlanta with one employee, which was me, and one client, which was a regional logistics firm that gave me a six-month contract because my former boss vouched for me and because I had spent three years learning everything there was to learn about supply chain technology before I ever wrote a single line of my own business plan. I built it through the years when it was not certain and the years when it almost collapsed and the years when it grew faster than I had planned for and the years when the growth required decisions that cost me sleep and sometimes cost me people I had trusted. I built it for fourteen years with my hands and my mind and the specific daily discipline of a woman who understood from the beginning that the building was the whole point and that the building never stops. By the time I was thirty-eight years old, Voss Strategy Group occupied eleven floors of a glass tower on Peachtree Street in Midtown Atlanta. We had two hundred and forty employees. We had clients in nine countries. We had been named to the Inc. 5000 list three years in a row and featured in Fast Company and the Atlanta Business Chronicle and Forbes, and my photograph had appeared on the cover of Black Enterprise with a headline that I will not repeat here because this story is not about the headline. It is about what I found out when I took off the clothes that go with the headline and put on a different uniform entirely. It started, if I am being honest, because of a conversation I overheard in an elevator.