Courage Means Doing What’s Right Even When You Feel Powerless
Your goodness is never wasted.
Welcome back to The Pebble in Your Shoe. Happy 2025, and I look forward to your thoughts on today’s newsletter. Please like and comment below :)
They hired me to fix a problem. What they didn't tell me was that I'd walked into a battlefield where the enemy—the man I replaced—still held all the power.
I was 51, one of only three women managers at a small military defense firm. The Rainmaker, as I'll call him, had been demoted but not dethroned. He was the man who brought in the lucrative contracts that kept the company afloat, and the owners wanted me to take over his department without making him angry.
From the start, I knew the stakes were high. The position was a promotion with a short commute—ideal for me, as I balanced life in the sandwich generation, caring for aging parents and growing children. But during the interview, upper management hinted that I'd have my work cut out for me.
They weren't kidding.
Rainmaker was incensed about his second demotion. He'd left a trail of chaos for me to untangle: broken rules, shady accounting, and contracts he treated like personal alliances. He didn't train me or hand off responsibilities—he didn't even acknowledge me. Instead, he went behind me, continuing to manipulate the staff who once reported to him. The higher-ups wanted me to clean up the mess but wouldn’t stand up to him. Rainmaker was still making it rain—albeit less than before—and they were terrified of losing his connections.
It was war, and I was outgunned.
Rainmaker always had the upper hand and made sure I knew it. He cut me off from our largest customer and sabotaged opportunities to assume the authority that came with my position. Once, my boss arranged for me to meet with our biggest client, which was my chance to build a relationship that could establish my footing. Rainmaker would be there, too. This would be interesting, or so I thought. I drove hundreds of miles, nervous but excited. Just as I was walking to the meeting, my phone rang.
"It's canceled," Rainmaker said.
That was it—no explanation. When I called my boss, he was furious, cursing Rainmaker and promising retribution. I knew nothing would happen.
The Rainmaker always had the upper hand.
Despite the frustration of having no rock to slay Goliath, I kept going. I was stymied at every turn, but I couldn’t give up. Indeed, I could do something to make things better. I knew the team members did not feel supported. While Rainmaker routinely indulged himself in advancing his career, he'd neglected the education of his people. What could I do to help them? They didn't know what they didn't know, and my mission was to teach them.
I asked for and surprisingly received funds for their development for the first time. No one had ever invested in them before. I encouraged them to learn new skills, hoping their education would be their superpower the next time Rainmaker came to prey.
I helped write new policies and procedures for the staff to follow. We would no longer accommodate Rainmaker and his workarounds. Everything was now in black and white; if he disregarded the rules, that was on him.
As I got to know the company, I learned that I wasn't alone in my battle. The Rainmaker's antics had earned him plenty of enemies. Co-workers rallied around me, sharing stories of his backstabbing and the careers he trampled. I wasn't the only one rooting for his downfall.
And then, the tide began to turn.
Rainmaker's lucrative contracts started drying up. The United States military pulled troops from the projects that fed us. Business slowed, and his unchecked reign began to crumble. As management turned on him, things got ugly. I left the company before it came crashing down, relieved to put the chaos behind me.
But Rainmaker wasn't done with me yet.
When I applied for a new job—one I was highly qualified for—the interview went great. The position was to support a customer I knew well from my old job. I was sure I'd get the offer, but then, silence.
Ghosted.
After many unreturned calls and emails, I discovered Rainmaker had burned me one last time, using his connections to block my hire.
At 50-something and female, the odds of finding a job that paid my worth weren't in my favor. I gave up looking, and life took a different turn. With my husband's support, I embarked on a new path where I share stories with you on Substack. It wasn't a straight line here, but I'm grateful for how things worked out.
So why share this long, messy tale? The battles I fought back then remind me of the ones we face now as a nation.
In just 12 days, an adjudicated rapist, convicted felon, insurrectionist, and twice-impeached former president will return to power.
From now on, I'll refer to him as "Our National Nightmare" (ONN) because I refuse to give him the dignity of his name. (Thanks, Anne and Barbara, for the acronym!)
Chaos is already in motion. ONN has his eye on acquiring Greenland and the Panama Canal. What could possibly go wrong?
My years at that male-dominated company taught me this: standing up to powerful, unethical forces is never easy, but it is necessary. I never felt like I won or made any progress. I paid a price, but I stayed true to myself.
That’s worth everything.
We as a nation now stand at a similar crossroads. The coming days will test our values, courage, and resolve. Just as I found allies back then, we must now find strength in each other. Millions of us are ready to stand firm against corruption, chaos, and tyranny.
The Rainmaker fell, and so will those who seek to undermine our democracy. Love and truth will always prevail. History shows us every time that no amount of corruption can outlast the will of people determined to protect their freedom.
Stay strong, be brave, don’t hide, don’t stay silent, and lean into your convictions. We will rise to meet this moment because our country depends on it. Together, we can weather this storm.
We're in this together.
As mainstream media continues to bow down and kiss the ring, here is a powerful news source for you to consider: Meidas Touch, and they’re right here on Substack and YouTube.
Need a new podcast? I found this one recently, and I think you’ll find it fascinating. No, it’s not about politics but instead about the captivating powers of autistic children who can communicate telepathically. I know it sounds crazy, but take a listen. We don’t know what we don’t know!
Ilona Goanos: How strange a world we live in.
Often it is the case: Women do the meritorious work and carry the mission, while bigotry supports a disruptive male divider.
Your beautiful narrative makes me treasure you even more -- and I already have had high honor for you.
Your narrative is a parable for Kamala Harris versus Trump and the elevating of an Orange-Bottomfeeder.
Greenland, the Panama Canal, indeed.
Meanwhile, Armando turns to friends like you -- mostly women; and Armando turns to the classics in music, literature, philosophy, art to sustain and improve the soul.
I need others, and you are very high, indeed, among those I honor and gather around me in normal times and in times like these.
Keep up your strength, dear friend!
One or two read my own Substack (my wife, daughters and granddaughter know better than to read me!), but to the both of you, please read in full this restacked contribution by Ilona Goanos!
Catching up, finally read this, and hoping we can all support each other in our fight against ONN. I decided to call him the FIC (Felon-in-Chief) or FOTUS (Felon of the US).