I was seven years old when I started making mochas for my family's guests.
I would froth the milk myself and carry each cup over with both hands, probably the last thing anyone expected from a child. What stayed with me was not their surprise, but their delight; the look on their faces when they received it.
We were both delighted, for different reasons.
And from that, I understood something that has stayed with me ever since: joy is better when everyone is having it at the same time.
Disney later gave language and structure to what I already knew.
As a child at Disneyland, joy felt like being understood and surrounded by possibility all at once. It felt like stepping into an environment designed to help everyone have a good day together. That joy was bigger than one person's entertainment experience. It was shared and multiplied.
Years later, when I worked at Walt Disney World as a Jungle Cruise Skipper, I saw what made that feeling possible.
Joy at scale is not an accident, but a choice.
It is built into training, environment, standards, language, and culture. Disney does not simply hire magical people. Disney creates the conditions for people to make magic. That distinction changed the way I think about leadership, brand, and customer experience.
I have spent my career bringing that philosophy into places where people do not always expect it: into a technology company many people think of as "just" an agreement tool; into executive briefing rooms where skeptical Fortune 500 leaders needed to feel understood; onto a runway at New York Fashion Week; and into conference stages, flagship events, and customer moments designed to leave something more lasting than information.
Some people talk about joy as if it sits outside the real work... as if revenue, efficiency, and ROI are serious, and joy is simply a nice extra.
I disagree.
The best memories people have are shaped by someone: a person, a place, a product, a team, a brand. Maybe it was a restaurant that made them feel special. A product that surprised them with its thoughtfulness. A leader whose presence changed the tone of the entire room. What people remember is not just what happened, but how it felt.
That emotional imprint is powerful. It is also commercially valuable.
Joy makes a brand feel bigger than a transaction. It turns an interaction into a memory, and a memory into affinity. That is what brings people back. That is what drives trust, loyalty, advocacy and recurring business.
I have seen it in the work.
A fashion activation that generated 16M+ earned media impressions and landed in Vogue. Events that consistently earned NPS scores above 9/10. A delight program that transformed ordinary touchpoints into moments people actually remembered. A sponsorship that returned 8x. A prospect saying "that was fun," while simultaneously understanding an AI platform that was once unfamiliar.
Joy performs.
I have also seen what the absence of joy costs.
Early in my career, I worked in an environment driven entirely by revenue, where efficiency came first and fear did the rest. Customers left feeling handled, not cared for. They were not excited about what they had bought. They carried the residue of the experience with them.
And every time they saw that company's logo, they relived it.
That is what a joyless brand buys itself: permanent residence in the wrong part of someone's memory.
It is the only job I have ever quit without a "backup plan".
So no, I do not see joy as soft. I do not see it as decoration. And I do not see it as the final polish once the "real" strategy is done.
Joy is the strategy.
The brands that endure are the ones that make people feel something real. Not manipulated. Not pressured. Not transacted. But seen.
They earn a place in people's best memories. They become part of how people tell the story of their lives, their work, and their choices.
That is the standard I build toward in every campaign, activation, customer story, and every room I walk into.
Because joy is not just good for business.
Joy is what makes a brand worth remembering.
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