I’ve spent decades trying my best to do good work—with CEOs in corner offices and families in overlooked neighborhoods. One minute I’m in a boardroom with a view, the next I’m sitting on a folding chair in a shelter. And you know what I’ve learned? We’re all a lot more alike than we think. Everyone’s just trying to make sense of life, find their purpose, and do a little good while we’re here.

Turns out, good work doesn’t care about your job title.

It doesn’t care about your resume, your zip code, or whether you drink lattes or instant coffee. Good work is about showing up with your whole self—heart, humor, humility—and offering what you’ve got to the world, wherever you are.

And believe me, I’ve seen it all.

Power suits who’ve lost the plot. Single moms who could teach Fortune 500s a thing or two about leadership. I’ve seen brilliance in places people overlook, and mediocrity where we’re told to bow down.

The truth? Everyone has something to offer.

We all want to feel useful. Seen. Needed. Whether we’re leading a company or surviving the day. And when we stop pretending that good work has to look a certain way—that it has to be loud or important or Instagrammable—we get to see the real magic. The quiet resilience. The small, steady kindness. The everyday courage of people who keep showing up, who keep choosing to do the next right thing.

So now, when people ask me what good work looks like, I smile and say: It looks like you, doing what only you can do. It looks like rolling up your sleeves, laughing a little (or a lot), and refusing to let cynicism win. It looks like grace in action. Purpose with a pulse. Humanity at its best—and sometimes its messiest.

Because good work isn’t about climbing a ladder. It’s about building bridges. And I’ve learned that the best work? It starts with one simple, radical thing: showing up and caring. And if you ask me, that’s more than enough.