Chapter 1: A Unique Tradition

Everyone's eyes are on me.

As I stand in front of the entire company, I push past my nerves, focusing on projecting confidence—not just in the figures I present but in my role as a leader.

The audience appears engaged, and for a fleeting moment, I convince myself that my lively delivery is captivating them. But then it hits me:

I'm dressed as a carrot.

In line with company tradition, all employees don costumes for the annual offsite event. As a newcomer to the role of chief financial officer, I opted for a vegetable costume, inspired by colleagues who came dressed as rabbits.

Draped in a bright orange tunic and topped with a leafy crown, I present quarterly figures, striving for seriousness amidst the chuckles from the crowd.

I attempt to refer to a chart projected behind me, but it’s just out of reach. Undaunted, I rise onto my toes, extend my arm, and tilt my head.

Using my carrot top as a makeshift pointer brings laughter and delight. I call out, "I’m confident we can achieve our profit goals this year, team. Let’s make it happen!"

Standing tall—just as a human-sized carrot should—I discover my voice.

Throughout my life, costumes have been a recurring theme, often serving as a means of self-preservation rather than mere amusement.

As a shy Asian child in a predominantly different community, I relied on uniforms from Cub Scouts and soccer to blend in.

Later, transitioning from book editing to finance, I wore a "suit" of armor—a fine wool ensemble—to appear credible in the corporate realm while masking my uncertainties.

Instead of hiding my identity, these outfits allowed me the space to confront my insecurities, aligning my self-image with how others perceived me. Positive reinforcement fostered genuine confidence.

Over time, my outer layers merged with my true self, making me not only more resilient but also more compassionate—toward others and myself.

At Method, a company that produces eco-friendly cleaning products, I experienced a joyful and quirky culture that encourages innovation and collaboration.

During my first visit to their offices, I found myself in a vibrant lobby adorned with colorful hand soap bottles and a rack of sparkly costumes available for employees in need.

That day, I was interviewing for the CFO position—my first senior role—and was challenged to present my business approach, notably how I would embody Method's corporate value of "keep it weird."

My answer focused on finance's role in challenging the norm—acting as thought partners rather than mere number crunchers.

I shared photos of myself in costume while working: as the Monopoly banker, a "Costbuster," a 1920s film director, and a Whoville resident.

This approach won me the job.

In retrospect, Method was the ideal environment for my inaugural CFO experience. As I navigated the pressures of the role—meeting financial targets, satisfying investors, and leading teams—I had a figurative and literal wardrobe of costumes to explore.

Early in my tenure at Method, I faced challenges on two fronts: our European division needed structural changes, and our new soap factory was missing production targets.

I found myself flying to London and Brussels every six weeks; when not traveling, I was in the office for early morning calls.

Being relatively new to the European team, I couldn’t rely on my usual friendly leadership style. Americans can sometimes come across as insincere, and any disguise I wore would be easily seen through.

With the manufacturing plant, my lack of relevant experience became evident. The complexities of equipment, raw materials, and staffing didn’t fit neatly into a spreadsheet plan.

What I needed wasn’t more confidence, but expertise.

The travel, long hours, and interpersonal challenges left me exhausted and feeling sorry for myself. With encouragement from my boss, I sought the help of an executive coach.

My coach, a former CFO, helped me focus on the right priorities: hire experienced leaders, manage stakeholders proactively, and provide clear feedback.

His straightforward approach helped me shed my emotional cloak, allowing me to take responsibility for my mistakes and act decisively.

During that year’s offsite, I donned a “beer pong” themed onesie adorned with red Solo cups. The silly costume masked my heavy mood: I had just returned from Belgium and was tasked with reporting disappointing financial results to the team.

When it was my turn to speak, garbled words escaped my lips. Fatigue, stress, and embarrassment had taken their toll.

I paused, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze. Although the moment was uncomfortable, I sensed compassion in the room.

Taking a deep breath and dropping any pretense, I tried again.

"Here’s where we stand…"

I laid out the challenging news and, more importantly, our path forward.

In that moment of vulnerability, I found myself standing tall.

Now, in my final week at Method, I’m outside the office on a bike. After two years of teamwork, both the European operations and the factory are thriving.

Thanks to the experiences gained here, I’m gearing up for a new CFO role at another company.

Today, we’re hosting our annual bike race. Our building is on a steep San Francisco slope, and employees ride up the hill in full costume.

Wearing my carrot suit and a headband to keep the greens out of my face, I line up at the starting line. I plan to compete, but when the whistle blows, I take my time, feeling carefree at last.

Afterward, I remove my costume and hang it lovingly on the lobby rack, ready for the next person who might need it.

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 2: A New Adventure

In this hilarious performance, Carrot Top showcases his unique prop comedy style, reminding us of the importance of humor and creativity in our lives and work.

Bert Kreischer's "The Machine" special highlights the value of embracing one’s true self and the laughter that comes from vulnerability and authenticity.