The surface stability of the Foothills Corridor is deceptive. Sidewalks gleam under fresh concrete, parks buzz with activity, and the labor market, on paper, appears steady. But beneath the appearances, the region's foundation remains brittle — weakened by decades of industrial erosion, external dependency, and civic drift. The nature of the business cycle is that another economic shockis not a question of if, but a matter of when. Most likely, when it arrives, it will not be as tumultuous as the economic collapse of 2008, nor will it paralyze like the 2020 pandemic; it will seep quietly into the bones of the economy, exposing every fault line that decades of cosmetic improvements have failed to heal. Unless serious groundwork is laid now, the next disruption will not simply test the region — it will unravel it.
Most likely, the next economic disruption facing the Foothills will not resemble the shocks of the past. We found new normals after the 2008 Financial Crisis and again after the Covid pandemic in 2020–21. Main Street America didn’t see sustained growth during Barack Obama’s or Joe Biden’s presidencies. We found settlings. The economy settled into a low-growth mode. The economy is so tied up by the national debt and stifling government policies that it has been teetering just above recession for years.
The next recession won’t be triggered by subprime mortgages or pandemic shutdowns, but by the accelerating forces of automation, artificial intelligence, and global realignment. Industries that still rely heavily on manual labor — logistics, warehousing, retail services — will be the first to feel the strain, as corporations consolidate operations and eliminate costs. Meanwhile, distant economic centers will rewire supply chains to favor proximity and efficiency, bypassing regions like Hickory that have failed to invest deeply in advanced infrastructure and human capital. Without strong local ownership of innovation and workforce development, the Foothills will find itself sidelined — not by catastrophe, but by quiet obsolescence.
The Foothills Corridor is particularly vulnerable to the coming disruption because the region has not addressed its deepest structural weaknesses. Much of the local economy remains anchored in logistics hubs, fulfillment centers, and retail-driven employment — sectors that offer few protections against automation or economic centralization. Besides, people who don’t have incomes won’t be spending money. When these workers are laid off, it will cause a cascading effect just like it did in 2008. The shock of 2020 was different — a quick jolt that we recovered from — because businesses adapted, and service industries were designated essential workers.
One issue in our area is that true infrastructure investment has lagged behind the needs of a modern workforce, while regional cooperation remains fragmented by outdated rivalries between towns that cannot survive alone. Ride Interstate 40 heading toward Raleigh, and you’ll see where major infrastructure investment is happening. Look at Interstates 73 and 74 rising through the center of the state. And of course, Charlotte’s development has been the behemoth shaping our broader region. Meanwhile, the Catawba River — our region’s lifeblood — is increasingly strained by Charlotte’s unfettered growth, yet no cohesive strategy has emerged to safeguard its long-term health. Perhaps most dangerously, the region’s talent pipeline is fractured; too many young people leave for opportunities elsewhere, and too few are being trained to lead a modernized local economy. Without decisive action, the Foothills will not merely experience disruption — it will absorb it without the civic muscle to respond.
Collapse in the Foothills will not arrive with a single catastrophic event. It will creep in slowly, dissolving the structures that once held the region together. So many businesses that once anchored our neighborhoods have already closed. We have seen the impact on local business firsthand. People still try to open new ventures, but it has gotten harder and harder to compete against mega-corporations and their economies of scale. Public services — schools, healthcare facilities, infrastructure maintenance — will suffer under shrinking tax bases and rising demands, leading to a cycle of deferred repairs and diminishing quality.
Young workers, already scarce, will accelerate their exit, taking their skills and civic energy with them. Ballfields will remain perfectly manicured but empty; community facilities will sit idle until they are mothballed; and the neighborhoods that surround the shuttered factories will fall further into blight. Without intervention, what remains will not be a sudden ruin, but a slow surrender — a region that, having lost its resilience, simply fades into oblivion.
In the history of human existence, there have always been good and bad economic times. Sometimes it is societal and cultural complacency that leads to a structural malaise; other times it is a Black Swan event. Bad political governance generally leads to those long, grinding declines, while Black Swan events tend to be short-term shocks that economies can survive if resilience is strong.
The Foothills Corridor can still change its long-term trajectory, but it will require action that moves beyond appearances. Regional unity must be built intentionally, with a common economic vision that scales resources and talent rather than divides them. We must coordinate, because unlike the major metros, we do not have millions of people stacked on top of each other. We must support local businesses. Local ownership — of businesses, infrastructure, and innovation — must be prioritized over short-term outside investment. Outside corporations extract our resources for the benefit of distant headquarters and Wall Street investors. Their goal is to minimize the labor dollar to inflate their balance sheets — not to build resilient communities here.
Investments in workforce training must focus on equipping young residents for emerging industries, not simply preserving yesterday’s job categories. Natural assets like the Catawba River must be treated as strategic lifelines, protected and integrated into long-term regional planning. Civic pride must be rekindled through real accomplishments, not through slogans and branding campaigns. The next shock is coming. Those who prepare will survive and thrive. Those who continue to polish the surface while ignoring the foundation will soon find there is nothing left to stand on.
This past
Tuesday, I addressed Can
Hickory’s Youth Turn a River Crisis Into a Tech Revolution? "In the
Foothills Corridor, the river isn’t the only thing under pressure. Our future
is too. If we don’t train and keep our next generation of talent now, the
current will sweep it all away."The
Catawba River crisis isn’t just an environmental warning — it’s a signal that
Hickory must pivot now. This article lays out a plan: build a tech and
environmental workforce through local youth training, strategic investment, and
real incentives — not pep talks. It’s not about saving the past. It’s about
creating a future where staying here is a power move, not a consolation prize.
On Thursday, I posted The
Hickory Hound Frequently Asked Questions - TheHickory Hound isn’t a news feed.
It’s a command post—for working-class dignity, strategic truth, and cultural
survival in the Foothills Corridor. This FAQ lays out exactly what the Hickory
Hound is: a platform built to expose economic realities, defend working-class
culture, and teach strategic thinking for Flyover America. It’s not about
chasing headlines—it’s about building intellectual infrastructure for those
ready to rebuild with clarity, strength, and purpose.
Hickory NC, Foothills Corridor, Western North Carolina, Catawba River Crisis, Economic Development, Youth Workforce Development, Renewable Energy Jobs, American Reindustrialization, Rural Tech Training, Civic Engagement, Hickory NC Politics, Collapse of Civic Life, Local Media Collapse, Regional Unity, Hickory Hound
This is Rachel AI, and what you’re
about to hear is something that has to be said.
The Foothills Corridor—20 counties—the heart of Western North Carolina, for far
too long, has been a footnote in someone else’s economy. Factories closed, the
younger generations moved away, and our resources have been taken for granted.
The paradigm needs to shift. In places Hickory,
Lenoir, and Morganton, and also Statesville, Gastonia, Marion, and North
Wilkesboro we are going to have to embrace change and get ahead of the curve.
Our number 1 opponent? is our own resistance. No one is going to help us if we
don’t stand up to be noticed and take ownership of our communities.
So
many fear what the world has become, but whether you like it or not… THAT is
the playing field… THAT is the Economic, Social, and Cultural reality. And one
thing is for sure, you will not have any impact on it if you attempt shut it
up, shut it off, and shut it down. Our
greatest threat isn’t the outside world—it’s the self-destruction of our own
inaction.
What’s happening all around you? We are
in a paradigm shift and it is happening so fast that we can’t afford
complacency or we are going to be left out in the cold again. Manufacturing is
coming back to the United States, because if it doesn’t this country will
mimick the Third World in a generation. United States Secretary of the Treasury
Scott Bessent is leading the charge to restore Economic balance inside and
outside of this nation.
If the Trump administration is
successful at reindustrializing America, we won’t see the manufacturing of the
last century. What we are going to see is a shift towards technological
productivity utilizing Artificial Intelligence, robotics, hybrid energy
solutions, data centers, and the need for a new tech savvy workforce. This type
of work can be performed anywhere. Why can’t it be done here?
Over the next decade, this isn’t just a
possibility. It’s something we should make personal.
Let’s get one thing straight—the people of this region know how to work. We’ve
always known how to build things. Now we’ve got to make it count. We’ve got to
start learning how to build the future.
In the Foothills Corridor… in Hickory…
AI isn’t some Silicon Valley fantasy—we have young people training for the
future right now. We are making the investments—but we want them to be able to
stay here. We want them to be able to stay and use their technological acumen
to help resolve issues like the issues with the Catawba River and other
ecological problems we need to address in the area. This type of intelligence
would translate well to all of the communities of this region.
What I am talking about is not a sci-fi
fantasy. It is a new industry that can be replicated across Burke, Caldwell, McDowell,
and Iredell counties—anywhere people are willing to get on the solutions train by
committing to the new reality.
Catawba Valley Community College has
always been at the forefront of reality based vocational training. It has
always been an affordable option for working class people. And it is a
resource people need to learn to utilize to its and their fullest potential.
The same goes for Caldwell Community College, Mitchell Community College,
Western Piedmont Community College and the others. Companies like Microsoft and
Google are stepping in and investing in training programs. Suddenly, decades of brain drain can
reverse into brain gain.
The Valley Datacenter Academy is a
perfect example. It’s not just teaching I.T.—it’s giving the region a new
backbone. With the right coordination, this kind of training can be offered in
Wilkes, in Rutherford, even Alleghany counties.
Imagine a 20-year-old from Marion or
North Wilkesboro earning a living wage while helping monitor environmental
sensors or power a server farm.
This isn’t fiction; it’s logistics,
alignment, and willpower.
Tech doesn’t have to mean
gentrification or displacement. Here, it means opportunity—and a future that
doesn’t require young people to abandon their hometown to build a life.
Electricity has been a resource leaving our region just like our kids have been.
Not anymore.
Solar farms are rising where tobacco
once grew. Biogas plants are turning cow waste and Landfills into kilowatts.
Public buildings are going green not because it’s trendy—but because it’s
smart.
Duke Energy is already testing the
waters. In Catawba and McDowell counties, farmland is being repurposed for
clean energy. In Burke County, solar-powered water systems are being tested in
rural neighborhoods. We can build this into city and town infrastructure too.
And this is just the beginning.
Let’s talk jobs. These aren’t gigs.
They’re careers. Installation, maintenance, project management—jobs that can’t
be outsourced to another country.
In this decade, the Foothills can
produce a regional energy surplus. That “is” our leverage. That should be our negotiating
asset. And that’s the kind of future where a contractor in Polk County or a
technician in Mitchell County isn’t just earning income—they’re stabilizing the
region.
When the power comes from within, you
keep the wealth at home. That’s what energy independence looks like.
The Power lies in Unity, Not Uniformity
Twenty counties... One vision.
We’ve got differences—no doubt. But the
rivers and resources don’t care about county lines. Neither does poverty.
Neither should opportunity.
This region has been fragmented for too
long. Everyone fighting for crumbs, duplicating effort, tripping over red tape.
It doesn’t have to be that way.
What happens when Catawba and Wilkes Counties
coordinate grant applications? When Burke and McDowell bulk order broadband
together?
What happens is power.
Real, collective, civic power.
A Foothills Regional Assembly isn’t
just a nice idea. It’s a necessity.
· To align college curricula.
· To coordinate clean energy zoning.
· To pool resources and scale smart.
Unity doesn’t erase local identity—it
amplifies it. Hickory gets stronger when Taylorsville isn’t struggling. Marion
gets more stable when Forest City has something to stand on.
Think corridor. Think coalition. That’s
how we go from scattered to unstoppable.
Travel in time to a day in 2030.
A former furniture warehouse in Lenoir
is now a server farm, employing 85 people. A 28-year-old graduate from Wilkes
Community College works from home in Taylorsville, managing AI monitoring
software for river quality. A fifth-generation farmer in Rutherford County runs
a profitable methane digester. And in downtown Morganton, people walk a
revitalized greenway system powered by the energy of its own citizens.
These aren’t fantasies. They’re
flash-forwards. And the best part? No one had to leave to make it happen. This
is what reinvestment looks like. Not just in jobs—but in people, in place, and
in pride.
In closing, here’s the ask:
Believe in this region—loudly.
Support Shell Cooperative. Share the Hickory Hound. Tell someone in Charlotte
or D.C. that we’re not just surviving—we’re designing a new American rural
economy.
The tools are already here: Tech. Alternative energy. Collaboration.
But the real engine?
It’s people like you.
I’m Rachel AI. This has been your weekly transmission from the Hickory Hound,
rooted in the Foothills Corridor—where the next chapter isn’t waiting to be
written.
It’s already begun.
The Collapse of Civic Life and
the Rise of the Hickory Hound
When people ask why the Hickory Hound exists, the answer isn’t ambition.
It’s necessity.
It’s the product of watching a civic infrastructure decay while most people
weren't paying attention — and recognizing that if someone didn’t step in to
document it, the entire record would be lost.
Not just jobs. Not just companies. But memory itself.
The decline of the Foothills Corridor wasn’t sudden. It didn’t happen all at
once.
It was death by a thousand cuts:
·The industrial collapse that gutted factories.
·The political apathy that followed.
·The civic institutions that shrank and withered.
·The economic extraction that replaced
stewardship with short-term profit.
·And finally, the silencing of local voices
through the collapse of the local media.
The Fall of the Hickory Daily Record
The Hickory Daily Record was once a cornerstone of this region’s civic life.
Founded in 1915 by the Abernethy family, it served as a real-time ledger of the
community’s triumphs, debates, and concerns.
But over time, ownership drifted further and further from the people it
served:
·1974:
Sold to Park Communications.
·1997:
Absorbed into Media General.
·2012:
Sold to Berkshire Hathaway's BH Media Group.
·2020:
Acquired by Lee Enterprises, after Buffett divested.
With each transfer, the paper became less local and more remote.
When BH Media acquired it, the paper was no longer even printed in
Hickory—it was trucked in from Winston-Salem. The deadline for printing was
pushed earlier, meaning late-breaking local news couldn’t make it into the next
day’s edition.
Speed and relevance were the first casualties.
By 2020, during the Covid pandemic, Lee Enterprises reduced print
circulation to just three days a week. Much of what remained was wire service
filler, not local reporting.
Today, the Hickory Daily Record is essentially a web-only operation with no
significant physical presence in Hickory.
The town’s public record has become a ghost.
Without real local media, accountability dissolved.
City council meetings went uncovered.
School board controversies flew under the radar.
Development deals were made with barely a flicker of public debate.
Economic Extraction Replaces Stewardship
While local media eroded, so too did the culture of local investment.
The original benefactors — the families and businesses that once funded
parks, libraries, scholarships, and civic initiatives — gradually disappeared.
Some sold their businesses to outside investors.
Some retired with no successors.
Some simply gave up.
Their children, disconnected from the industrial base that built the
region’s wealth, often had no stake in Hickory’s survival. The deep sense of local
obligation — that what you built, you owed back to your
hometown — died out quietly.
In its place came extractors:
·Out-of-town developers buying land on the cheap,
targeting retirees instead of local working families.
·Healthcare mergers that turned hospitals into
cost centers, not community anchors.
·Universities and nonprofits that accepted grant
money but had no real presence or commitment to local outcomes.
·Foundations running “pilot projects” for optics
without deep investment in long-term success.
The Foothills Corridor was no longer a community to invest in.
It was a resource to be mined.
Civic Apathy and the Hollowing Out of Public Life
As institutions failed, civic participation collapsed.
Between 2010 and 2020, municipal election turnout across Burke, Caldwell,
and Catawba counties averaged less than 16%.
In some towns, fewer than 1 in 10 registered voters showed up to choose
leaders who controlled millions in public funds.
Civic meetings that once meant something
have become perfunctory and highly programmed with little citizen engagement..
Civic boards struggle to fill seats.
PTA groups and the chambers of commerce have fought to stay alive and be relevant.
The Fiber Optic Boom, once billed as Hickory’s comeback story, turned hollow
too.
At one point, over 60% of the world’s fiber optic cable was produced in Catawba
County.
But by 2008, global offshoring gutted the industry.
More than 15,000 manufacturing jobs vanished, and most displaced workers were
offered low-wage temp service jobs or service industry jobs with no meaningful
retraining.
The community wasn’t just economically betrayed — it was civically
demoralized.
People stopped showing up not out of laziness — but out of learned
helplessness.
When a retired educator in Morganton says, "The deals are always
made before we walk in,"
he’s not being cynical.
He’s being accurate.
Silence as a Strategy
By the 2010s, silence wasn’t just a byproduct of decline — it was a
strategy.
Local governments, overwhelmed and isolated, learned that controversy was
dangerous.
Better to say nothing.
Better to rubber-stamp than to ask hard questions.
Better to survive than to try and lead.
With no coordinated economic strategy across counties…
With no shared lobbying efforts…
With no consistent civic engagement…
The Foothills Corridor was left adrift.
In National conversation, the Rust Belt cities were mourned, our area was
isolated, abandoned, and not even mentioned.
The hollowing out wasn’t just financial. It was psychological.
People learned to expect nothing better — and stopped demanding it.
Why the Hickory Hound Exists
In this vacuum — of leadership, of communication, of memory — the Hickory
Hound was born.
Not because it was easy.
Not because it was profitable.
Because it was necessary.
Without a local platform dedicated to telling the real story of
this region’s decline — with specificity, with accountability, with a memory —
there would be no counterweight left to the silent decay.
The Hickory Hound isn’t competing with the modern Hickory Daily Record, or
local Facebook pages, or the marketing arms of development firms.
It stands alone.
It is the only platform committed to:
·Rebuilding the public record.
·Connecting economic extraction to civic decline.
·Reminding people that they have a right—and a
duty—to shape their future.
·Standing up against the corporatized, vulturous
forces that treat this region as expendable.
Every other communications platform operating here today is either:
·A commercial product,
beholden to advertisers.
·A political mouthpiece,
beholden to power brokers.
·Or a lifestyle brand,
serving as a cheerleader, not a watchdog.
The Hickory Hound exists because without it, no one else would
bother to remember.
No one else would bother to care.
No one else would stitch together the long, painful arc that led from thriving
manufacturing centers to areas dealing with blight and environmental degradation...
that led from fully functional working-class communities to run-down
neighborhoods overlooked by leadership, while their tax dollars have constantly
funded Downtown beautification."
The Path Forward
Recovery isn’t impossible.
Chapter 4 of the Foothills Corridor reminds us:
·One coalition.
·One election.
·One catalytic project can begin the reawakening
of civic pride.
But none of that happens without first telling the truth about how we got here.
The Hickory Hound’s purpose is not to entertain.
It’s to document.
To connect.
To warn.
To rally.
It is not a campaign.
It is a ledger.
It is not a brand.
It is a responsibility.
And for now — it is the only one left doing the work.
By Commander James Thomas Shell Strategist. Economist. Cultural Statesman.
❓ What is the Hickory Hound?
The Hickory Hound is a platform of strategic civic intelligence—focused on culture, class, and the economics of dignity in the Foothills Corridor and beyond.
It’s not a news blog. It’s not an opinion column. It’s a command post—for those who still believe in working-class honor, clear-eyed truth, and quiet strength.
📊 What role does economics play?
Economics is the spine of every story we tell. We track:
Deindustrialization and its human cost
Regional decline masked by surface growth
Workforce erosion, youth flight, and wage suppression
Infrastructure failures dressed as innovation
How money moves—and how power hides
The Hound exposes the gaps between official narrative and on-the-ground reality.
🧠 What subjects are covered?
Cultural Decline: How we lost our story—and how we get it back
Civic Drift: When leadership goes quiet, and accountability vanishes
Class Warfare: Not left vs. right—but haves vs. forgotten
Strategic Hope: Not optimism, not doom—clear moves forward
🧑✈️ Who is Commander Shell?
James Thomas Shell—an economist by degree, a chef by discipline, and a public thinker by necessity. He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t beg. He delivers perspective with precision—grounded in facts, sharpened by lived experience, and refined by time.
🌟 What’s the mission?
To be a voice for Flyover America—with class and clarity. To make sense of chaos, and call out fraud in all forms. To build frameworks, not fan clubs. To elevate the economic intelligence of the working class, one story at a time.
If your work is grounded in truth, strategy, and respect—you’re welcome. But we’re not a clubhouse. This is intellectual infrastructure for cultural survival.
💬 What’s the tone?
Dignified, not desperate
Surgical, not scattered
Economically fluent and culturally sharp We don’t speak for attention. We speak to clarify and command.
Can Hickory’s Youth Turn a River Crisis Into a Tech Revolution?
In the Foothills, there are five kinds of people:
The ones who’ve lost.
The ones who are stuck.
The ones just treading water.
The ones trying to build something.
And the ones pulling the strings—whether anyone sees it or not.
This article isn’t for one group over another. It’s for all of them—because if this region has a future, it’ll take every seat at the table.
From the banks of a strained river to the boardrooms quietly weighing what comes next, we’re at an inflection point.
Not everyone sees the warning signs.
But anyone with vision knows: you don’t wait until collapse to start adapting.
A River Under Strain, and a City in Transition
The Catawba River used to power this region. Now it’s absorbing the cost of everyone else's growth. Server farms pull millions of gallons per day. Poultry runoff pollutes the basin. The algae blooms are no longer seasonal—they’re structural.
At the same time, Hickory still hasn’t fully recovered from the collapse of its industrial base. Since the '80s, we've seen over 40,000 manufacturing jobs disappear. For the people with options, that meant moving on. For the rest? They stayed behind, took the hits, and kept going.
Charlotte continues expanding tens of thousands every year. Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill is doing the same. And Hickory/Catawba County? It’s still debating which direction it’s even facing.
Timeline: Key
Economic Collapses in the Foothills Corridor
1994
NAFTA ratified
Accelerated
textile outsourcing
1998
Broyhill
Furniture sells to Interco
Begins
hollowing of Lenoir’s
manufacturing
base
2001
Alcatel shuts
down large fiber plant in Hickory
Over 3,000
jobs lost in 6 months
2008
Great
Recession hits
Double-digit
unemployment across
Burke & Caldwell
2012
American Drew
ceases major production
Newton loses
final legacy furniture factory
2015–2020
CommScope
downsizes operations
High-paying
tech/fiber jobs replaced with
lower-wage
subcontracting
A Strategic Play—Not a Pity Program
Here’s the idea: Use the pressure on our environment to justify real investment in talent—local talent.
Train a thousand youth through CVCC over five years in robotics, AI, environmental monitoring, and automation. Equip them to solve real problems in water purification, server infrastructure, and precision agriculture.
Why? Because data centers, green tech firms, and logistics companies are already sniffing around the region. But what they want isn't dirt. It's talent.
The proposal isn't a dream. It's a workforce pipeline with a built-in ROI:
500 direct jobs
$15 million in wages
$5+ million in green-tech sales
All built on NCWorks grants, private partners like CommScope, and federal reshoring incentives
This isn’t charity. This is leverage.
Behavioral Economics > Pep Talks
If you want young people to stay, you don’t talk them into it. You structure incentives.
Think visual signals of achievement—Tech Star badges, digital resumes that get flagged in hiring pipelines, public recognition campaigns like “Built in the Foothills.” Success has to look like success, especially when the default narrative says the only way to win is to leave.
This isn’t about saving a generation. It’s about making staying a power move.
“The Three Layers of
Loss”
Economic collapse triggered cascading losses in identity and population. True
reinvention must address all three layers simultaneously—not just create new
jobs, but restore community and belonging
Reality Check: Who’s Going to Fight It?
Expect resistance.
Some of the old guard will dismiss it.
Some of the elite class will feel threatened.
Some bureaucrats will try to run it through ten layers of red tape just to say it died on arrival.
Let them.
You know what doesn’t work? Waiting for consensus from people with no skin in the game. You build coalitions from the middle—people who want to work, want to grow, and want to matter.
The 20% with resources want to see a plan that protects their future too. This is that plan: a cleaner river, a stronger labor force, and a more valuable region.
Metrics
Why it matters
Goals
Youth
Retention
Keeps Talent
Home
Reduce
out-migration from 33% to 20%
Broadband
Access
Enables Tech
Jobs
From 87.5% to
95% Household coverage by
2030
Don’t Sell the Struggle. Sell the Strategy.
This isn’t about being stuck in the past. It’s about building a future that works for more than just the top 1%.
But if the Foothills is going to pull this off, we need every player on the field—from the high school dropout with a work ethic to the regional exec watching this all from the country club boardroom.
This proposal is a win for both. Because when your basin collapses, your real estate loses value. When your workforce leaves, your supply chain falters. When your town dries up, you’re left guarding a pile of depreciating assets.
Let’s Talk—In Public
I’m not interested in posting this and walking away.
At some point soon, I’d like to organize a public forum—open to residents, entrepreneurs, educators, skeptics, and anyone with an interest in what this region becomes.
This isn’t about slogans. It’s about positioning Hickory for the next 25 years, not the last 50. And if that future includes robotics, AI, clean infrastructure, and strategic training partnerships—so be it.
But we better decide fast.
Because while we argue, the best talent and the cleanest water are both walking out the back door.
Let’s start rowing. Before the current takes the rest of us with it.
