Why I Do What I Do
In a past life — the 90s — I worked at a TV station.
If you've never worked at one, trust me: the environment wasn't exactly a model of healthy team culture. People were resources, not humans. And conflict? It was practically part of the job description. In my case, it was sales versus production — two teams that needed each other and couldn't stand each other. We'd go out, sell a great commercial idea, come back excited, and watch the production team's faces fall. They weren't happy. We weren't happy. And it just kept cycling.
I knew it wasn't sustainable. And honestly, I knew I wasn't sustainable in that role.
At 37, I went off to the desert on a retreat. I needed to figure out what was next. I knew selling commercials wasn't my long-term plan. I wanted something with more heart. More meaning. I just didn't know what that looked like yet.
When I got back, I heard about a ropes course in Santa Cruz. A team building company. I thought — why not? Let's take the sales team and the production team out there and see what happens.
I had no idea what I was in for.
We arrived with all our roles intact, all our opinions about each other firmly in place. Me — Enneagram 7, ENFP, high I on DiSC, orange in True Colors — I was ready. Excited, even. Ropes course? Let's go.
What I didn't realize yet was that not everyone felt that way. My first real learning happened before we even got on the course: we are not all the same. Obvious, right? But I'd been walking around assuming that everyone else wanted what I wanted — action, adventure, let's just do it. They didn't. And that mattered.
Then came the pole.
A tall pole. The task: climb it, stand on the small disc at the top, both feet, no hands. Simple enough, I thought. How hard could it be?
Climbing was easy. It was that last step that got me. Putting one foot up on that disc, then the other, then actually standing — with nothing to hold onto — I froze. And what I discovered in that frozen moment was that my fear had nothing to do with getting hurt. It was about failing. I was terrified of not being able to do it.
That's when the coaching from the ground started. My teammates were down there talking me through it, calling up to me, holding the space. And I made that last step. I stood up. I jumped and hit the ball.
It was an awakening. I could not have done it without them.
But the moment that really changed everything happened on an event called Islands in the Sky.
Picture this: a cable stretched between two trees, about 30 feet up. Hanging from the cable — five or six platforms that swing. The task is to swing them close enough together that you can step from one to the next. You can't do it alone. It's a partner event.
My partner was a coworker from production. We had history. Not the good kind. Conflicts, friction, moments I'd rather forget. Neither of us was thrilled when we realized we'd be doing this one together.
We went up as adversaries.
What happened up there between those swinging platforms was something I still think about. When you're 30 feet off the ground and the only way forward is together, your roles disappear. Your titles disappear. All that's left is your humanity. We had to trust each other. We had to communicate. We had to actually work together — not as sales and production, but as two people trying to get somewhere.
We came down as friends
By the end, we were ecstatic. We hugged each other.— and I mean that for real. After that day, something shifted permanently. We'd smile in the hallways. High-five. Grab a beer. The friction was just... gone. What replaced it was something genuine.
It was in that moment I knew: whatever I did next had to involve a ropes course. I didn't know how. I didn't know when. But I knew.
Here's what I tell people now, before we even walk down to the course:
Pay attention to where you are right now — in your body. What does it feel like? Are you scared? Do you have assumptions about the people around you, about who they are and what they're capable of? Hold onto that. Because when we come back, I promise you — you will be inspired by someone you didn't expect. Or proud of yourself for something you didn't think possible. And that's going to move the needle.
The more transparent you are, the more you'll receive. The more you ask for help, the more it shows up.
That's why I do what I do.
I love watching people connect — with themselves and with each other — in ways that are real and lasting. That's what happened to me on that ropes course in Santa Cruz. And it's what I get to witness, every single time we go out there together.
It never gets old.
Deb Dutra, Co-Founder Synergy Learning Systems
