Millennials Killed Cracker Barrel. HEAR ME OUT.

This take isn’t in isolation. I’ve heard professionals from music, TV, and fashion describe the same effect, and I think it explains what we’re seeing in branding and advertising too.

To understand it, we have to go back to the Great Recession. Millennials famously came out of school and into the job market just as the 2008 crash hit. Layoffs and budget cuts gutted marketing departments first — because at the end of the day, marketing is vibes-based and not “mission-critical.” When hiring picked back up, who was cheapest? Millennials. My first salary was $35K, and I felt like I won the lottery.

So there was an influx of young, cheap labor into creative departments. But the financial side is only half the story. The other half is technology: smartphones and social media.

In 2007, the iPhone launched. A slow burn at first, but it quickly became clear (thanks, Amazon) that e-commerce was going mobile. Who adopted smartphones fastest and integrated them into buying habits? Millennials.

In 2008, Obama won the “Facebook election.” That campaign proved the grassroots power of social media back when it was free of algorithms. And who knew how to use Facebook? All those cheap, freaky Millennials looking for work.

So two dynamics collided: companies right-sizing budgets and scrambling to scale into new marketing platforms. Execs didn’t know how or why to use these tools — they just knew they had to. And the 20-somethings at the table were the experts.

Marketing departments were full of Millennials, running wild on company accounts. Remember the Oreo “Dunk in the Dark” Super Bowl post? That was the era. It was fun.

But we weren’t just posting. We were also in the web meetings — what we now call UX/UI. The early web was clunky, ugly, and tacky compared to in-store retail. After the dot-com bust, there was resistance to putting serious weight behind online strategy. Meanwhile, the tech giants — then minnows — were moving fast: Google, Amazon, Facebook, Netflix. Corporate brands were chasing them, and we Millennials were the ones tasked with making them look digital-ready.

That meant redesigning logos, rethinking typefaces, streamlining layouts, creating consistency across catalogs, websites, and retail spaces. The digital era ate every part of marketing.

And who was doing it? Cheap, young, freaky Millennials. Which brings us to Cracker Barrel.

What’s wrong with the original Cracker Barrel logo? The same thing wrong with most 20th-century logos: it’s a usage catastrophe. It doesn’t fit in a favicon. It’s not legible on a mobile header. It’s cluttered. It pulls attention away from the product, the email, the “buy now” button.

Over the past 20 years, in pitch after pitch, we choreographed the same dance: if you want to scale into digital markets, your brand has to be simplified. That’s why Millennials recoil at messy 90s aesthetics. We grew up in that clutter, then spent our early careers dismantling it. We built the clean, functional, crisp aesthetic that dominates today. Why do we love grey? Because neutral palettes make the one thing you want seen — the button, the scarf — pop.

Fast forward to 2025. We’re not the cheap kids anymore. We’re leading the teams. We’re the ones telling the next generation: make it fresh, but make it work across platforms. We’re the sensible heads balancing customers and shareholders. We’re the captains now.

That’s why stores are full of Y2K-era fashion — it’s what Millennials remember as cool. That’s why pop music sounds like it did 20 years ago — it’s what we still like. And that’s why brands go minimal — because that’s the aesthetic we built.

I’m not defending Cracker Barrel’s rebrand, and I don’t care to comment on their walk-back. I’m just saying it makes sense.

Is it time for the minimal Millennial brand aesthetic to turn over? Probably. But was it our choice to begin with? Not really. It was born of necessity, a response to forces bigger than us.

What’s sad to me now isn’t the loss of unique brand identities. It’s the loss of talent we’ll see in the AI era. When companies take the wrong lessons from episodes like Cracker Barrel or Bud Light. When they decide they don’t need to hire young, hungry, freaky kids anymore.

Who’s going to respond to today’s challenges and create tomorrow’s aesthetic?

Who’s going to be there in 15 years to sign off on the logo and ask the kids to redesign the world?

Why I’ll Never Claim I “Drove X Revenue” for a Client

Every time I scroll LinkedIn, I see it:
“I helped a client drive $30M in revenue.”
“I 10x-ed my client’s business in six months.”

And every time, my gut reaction is the same: HOW on earth do you actually know that?

Are you plugged into the company’s analytics? Sleeping with someone in finance? On the sales floor closing deals? Unless you’re directly clocking hours stocking shelves, selling products, or negotiating contracts, you didn’t drive that revenue. You may have supported a leader during a growth phase — and that matters — but taking personal credit is disingenuous at best, and flat-out lying at worst.

Nothing happens in a silo

Here’s the truth: no single executive, consultant, or coach is solely responsible for a KPI. Not even the CEO.

Who keeps Starbucks running? Baristas. If they walk out, revenue tanks no matter how great the CEO’s coach is. Who makes your favorite shirt? Workers in factories. Who made that billboard work? The creative team and the talent scout who found the model. Claiming “I drove X metric” is absurd, because every metric is the cumulative result of countless people and conditions aligning.

The copywriter’s perspective

As a former copywriter, I recognize this kind of claim instantly: it’s a sales tactic.

In advertising, we compress nuance into single, powerful lines. We blur correlation with causation. We know how to play on emotions — especially fear. “Your skin still breaks out in your 30s? We’ve got the cure.” “Not sure what to pack? We’ve packed for you.” We make complex, long-term problems feel like they have quick, one-size-fits-all solutions.

That’s exactly what these LinkedIn revenue claims are doing. They target leaders under pressure — executives with boards breathing down their neck, small business owners staring down payroll. The problems are real. The promised solutions? Simplified to the point of dishonesty.

What coaching really is

Coaching isn’t a vending machine where you push a button and get $30M. It’s fundamentally internal work. Coaching connects thoughts with emotions, emotions with actions. It brings awareness to the way you show up as a leader — in meetings, in decisions, in culture.

Maybe your team is underperforming. You think it’s strategy, but often it’s how you show up in the room — cutting people off, shutting down hard truths, broadcasting fear. That’s the real work of coaching: creating space for awareness, choice, and change.

How I measure success

I don’t measure success in revenue. I measure it in alignment.

I coach through the lens of brand. A leader’s job is to be their brand’s number-one advocate. Do they know what the brand stands for? Can they tell the origin story in 15 seconds? Do they recognize employees who live the brand’s values? Do they believe those values themselves?

Success, for me, is when leaders stop parroting slogans and start embodying their brand.

The bigger picture: LinkedIn metrics are the new Instagram filters

This obsession with inflated metrics is just LinkedIn’s version of social media vanity. On Instagram, teens feel ugly because everyone else looks perfect. On LinkedIn, professionals feel small because everyone else claims to have driven millions in revenue.

It’s all designed to keep us scrolling, comparing, engaging, doubting. If it bleeds, it leads. If it sparkles with dollar signs, it tops your feed.

My promise

I will never sell you false promises. Coaching isn’t about revenue projections, clickbait claims, or what the algorithm wants this week.

It’s about this moment. Right now. How you’re showing up. How your choices today move you closer (or further) from the vision you hold for tomorrow.

I won’t claim to drive $30M for your company. But I will help you breathe easier, see yourself more clearly, and lead more authentically. And that’s the kind of growth that ripples far beyond a quarterly report.

End of Summer

I started taking on clients this summer and as with most new businesses, my client pool thus far has been my personal network. While my bank account isn’t recouping the loss of a salary yet, this new direction feels better. 

I’m enjoying reaching people organically, working with them on their terms, and closing my laptop at the end of the day feeling like I’ve made a difference in their lives. 

Corporate life was fun – but it was never fulfilling. 

Coaching, for me, is both. 

I’ve been fortunate enough to coach some other new business owners on their emerging brands and what I’ve noticed is an intense need to make life work better, math-out better, feel better. I have it too.

Better for me this summer looked like lowering my expectations on “productivity” and “growth”. It looked more like late mornings and swim parties. It was often walking away from my email, past my dirty kitchen, and sitting down to play a level of Lego Star Wars, sing along to KPop Demon Hunters, or answer the 8 billionth question about which  pokémon is my favorite and why. 

Productivity turned into progress – on those dishes, or that pile of laundry that never seems to get folded. 

Growth, I found in other areas. Like losing my shit a little less when my husband was in play rehearsals and I was soloing dinner and bedtime five nights a week. Like being better about reaching out to friends and family who are struggling, or celebrating, or just because it’s been a minute and this one made me think of you. 

I don’t feel behind. I feel better.

School started today. 

My house is quiet.

My desk is clear.

And I feel better. 

The Algorithm Wants Me to Feel This Way

Not gonna lie, I completely forgot I launched this blog a couple weeks ago.

Until I had one of those rare and still mom moments of wondering “what should I be doing right now..” and then it happened. I was overtaken by that specific anxiety that feels like…like…like people waiting. But not just some people… all the people.

It’s not the same anxiety as forgetting a task — it’s deeper, like you’ve missed a deadline that no one gave you, but everyone somehow expects you to meet. Like it’s an obligation you didn’t sign up for but are forced into like it’s Kafka.

Guys, this is the trap!

We’ve internalized an anxiety of urgency that’s not ours.
It was built. It was engineered. It was designed. It never came from us.

We aren’t just connected by the internet, we’re conditioned by it.
And one of its most powerful conditions is this: the feeling that we’re always behind.

It used to be that social life had boundaries. Time and place dictated what you knew, who you saw, when you showed up. Then social media collapsed all those boundaries. Now, everything happens everywhere, all the time. Everyone’s reachable. Everything is relevant. Every minute not spent engaging feels like a minute lost.

And it’s not just social media anymore — it’s the whole system.
The pace of production. The always-on marketing. The gamified hustle culture.
Even the tools meant to “help” — AI, automation, templates — end up accelerating the pace until your own sense of time and accomplishment feels warped.

Spend a few hours using AI to knock out weeks’ worth of work, and your brain doesn’t go, Wow, what a great productivity win! It short-circuits. It feels like you’ve time-traveled and left your body behind.

This pressure — to be visible, valuable, and optimized at all times — is exhausting. It pushes us out of presence. It makes real connection harder. And it fuels a kind of cultural burnout that’s hard to name because it’s so embedded in how we live.

When speed becomes the default, stillness starts to feel like failure.
When sharing becomes a performance, reflection starts to feel like indulgence.
And when “value” is measured by engagement, what happens to the things we make for their own sake?

Some of the best ideas, stories, relationships, and insights come from the places we let breathe. The thoughts we don’t share right away. The ones we sit with, chew on, and allow to evolve.

Feeling behind, or guilty for not posting, or overwhelmed by the pace — that’s not a failure.
It’s the algorithm working exactly as intended.

Anyways, I remembered that I had a blog. Thanks for reading.

HC

Why I Left Advertising to Start On Brand Coaching

People have been asking why I went from ad creative to executive coach.

The short answer? I didn’t want to make ads anymore.

But I also didn’t want to waste the 15 years I’d spent shaping brands from the inside — learning what makes them stick, what makes them stall, and what happens when the story no longer matches the reality.

I entered the industry just as it was pivoting from storytelling to nonstop content. And the more I saw behind the scenes, the more I realized: the real issues weren’t creative. They were structural.

Short-term thinking. Misaligned incentives. Leaders trying to move forward while everything around them pulled sideways.

And that disconnect? It’s everywhere.

From tech giants to nonprofits to classrooms, I kept hearing the same thing: We know what we’re supposed to be. We don’t know how to get there anymore.

Brand as Culture, Culture as Brand

I used to think branding was about language — messaging, tone, campaigns. And I was good at that part. But the deeper I got, the more I saw that brand is behavior.

You can have the sharpest copy and most beautiful brand book in the world, but if the leadership team isn’t aligned in any way, the brand breaks. That misalignment ripples outward:

• Teams stop trusting each other.

• Innovation stalls.

• Strategy becomes reactionary.

• People feel stuck, confused, and disconnected from purpose.

These aren’t creative problems. They’re alignment problems. And they show up at the highest levels of an organization, even when the leaders themselves are doing their best with what they’ve inherited.

Because let’s be honest: most leaders didn’t create the disconnect. They’re trying to manage it.

And they’re trying to do it inside systems that reward the opposite of alignment — speed over reflection, individual performance over collective trust, growth over clarity.

I’ve worked with leaders at all levels, and not one of them lacked ideas, awareness, or care. What they lacked was the space and support to step back, realign, and move forward with intention.

Why Coaching, Not Consulting

I didn’t want to become a consultant. I’ve done that work. I’ve pitched the ideas, delivered the strategy decks, and written the words.

As a coach, I get to partner with clients, help them hear themselves, not me, more clearly, and guide them toward their own insight. That’s where the real, lasting change happens.

As a coach, I get to be committed, flexible, and show up fully. I adapt to the human in front of me. I create a space where people can take a breath, look around, and figure out what really matters.

I don’t think corporate leadership is broken. I think it’s burdened. Burdened by decisions made in isolation, incentives stacked against values, and a culture that rarely gives leaders room to breathe, let alone reset.

Coaching, for me, is about offering that space. It’s not about fixing out-of-touch leaders. It’s about helping strong, well-intentioned people reconnect with the energy that got them here — and the brand they want to be known for.

The Vision Behind On Brand

On Brand Coaching is about aligning leadership, culture, and brand from the inside out. It’s for visionary leaders. The kind who see something no one else can, even if they’re not sure how to articulate it.

To be "on brand" isn’t about performance. It’s about clarity. Integrity. Intention. It’s about knowing your values, navigating contradictions, and shaping your outward actions accordingly.

What’s Next

On Brand Coaching is open for clients. I’m working on launching a regular publication and a podcast that explores branding, culture, and leadership in the real world. But right now, I’m most excited to meet the people this work is meant to serve.

If that’s you, or someone you know — book a free 30-min briefing call today — I’d love to talk.

When the copy writes itself…what does the copywriter write?

Welcome to Ideate This.
A blog, written by a copywriter processing what it means to not be a copywriter anymore. 

Here,
I’ll be unmuted – free of stepping on anyone else’s words.
I’ll be unbriefed – so, expect things to get loose. 
I’ll be on brand – not selling you something.

As a copywriter, I learned how to read the world around me – looking behind the words, seeing the missed connections that might lead to a page-stopping headline or a radically fresh campaign.

As a not-copywriter, with no headlines to write and no campaigns to manifest, I still find myself gripped by that habit.

And I still find myself a writer, sitting down to tap it out, think it out, get it out. 

That’s what I hope Ideate This will become. A place for my unique perspective on the world I can’t stop reading. 

I’m glad you’re here. I hope you’ll stay. 

HC