Chapter 10 | The Oxygen Mask Rule in Leadership

Imani Rhodes

I volunteer as a mentor at a community center after work—mostly teens trying to figure out life, school, and everything in between. It’s my favorite part of the week, but that day, I was running late, my phone was blowing up, and by the time I got there, I was already stressed. There’s one major rule at our center: we don’t have cleaning staff. Everyone pitches in. You use it, you clean it. You take it out, you put it back. So when I walked in and saw basketballs rolling across the floor, snack wrappers on the tables, and art supplies still open and drying out, my pulse jumped straight to my forehead. And I’ll be honest with you—I was mad. Not irritated, not mildly frustrated—mad. The kind of mad where you can feel the heat crawl up your neck, and every thought in your head starts writing the speech you’re about to deliver. I wanted to yell. I wanted to prove a point. But right before I opened my mouth, I caught myself. I remembered this line I’d heard: You can’t coach if you can’t breathe. So I stopped. Right there, in the middle of that messy room, I took one long breath in… and an even longer one out. I whispered to myself, “Aviate, navigate, communicate.” It was like I pulled my own oxygen mask down first. The anger didn’t disappear—it just stopped driving. I clapped my hands once and said, “Alright, what’s going on here, people? This place looks like a tornado came through! You all know the deal—no fun until we get it back in shape.” A few of them laughed, a couple looked at the floor. I softened my tone. “Look, I get it. You were rushing, you were tired—but this space only works if we take care of it. We don’t have cleaning staff. We are the cleaning staff. We respect it because it’s ours.” Then I grabbed a trash bag, handed out a few towels, and turned on some music. Within a minute everyone was moving—sweeping, stacking, wiping tables, even joking a little. One of the kids looked at me and said, “You’re not mad?” I smiled and told him, “Oh, I’m mad. I’m just not giving my madness the mic.” And that’s when it hit me—calm isn’t weakness. It’s leadership. It’s the moment you choose to steady the room instead of shaking it.

Jake Ramirez

Yeah, I know that feeling. The room's a mess, your team’s just standing there looking sheepish, and all you wanna do is go off. Like, "Seriously? This is what I walked into?"

Imani Rhodes

Exactly! My entire head is writing a speech about responsibility as I walk in. But right as I'm about to let loose, I just stop. I remember: you can’t coach if you can’t breathe. It’s like when you’re on a plane and they tell you to put your own oxygen mask on first—because you’ll be useless to anyone else if you pass out.

Jake Ramirez

That’s a perfect analogy. If you’re not regulating yourself, you can’t help your team. Period. So did you literally just… pause right in the middle of the chaos?

Imani Rhodes

Yup. One big breath in, and a slower, longer breath out. Even whispered “Aviate, navigate, communicate”—just to myself. I probably looked a little weird, but it stopped my anger from taking control. Didn't erase it, just… put it in the backseat.

Jake Ramirez

That's the hard part. We talk about self-regulation all the time, but how often do you see leaders actually pause like that? Most people think, "Lead from the front," but they don't realize you're a liability if you're not calm. For me, it’s this simple little box breathing trick—four seconds in, four hold, four out, four hold. You do that one or two times and it roots you in the present. Suddenly, you’re not about to explode—you’re ready to actually solve something. That’s what we mean by “put your oxygen mask on first.”

Imani Rhodes

Those tiny techniques, grounded in your senses, make all the difference—whether it's a mantra, breath, whatever brings you out of that autopilot fight-flight state. You steady yourself before you even think about coaching anyone else.

Jake Ramirez

That’s it. You can’t coach if you can’t breathe. And once you get your own mask on, people feel it—it changes the whole room. They start matching your energy without even realizing it. It’s an unconscious kind of respect, the kind you don’t demand but earn just by staying steady when everyone else is spinning.

Imani Rhodes

Which leads right to this: there’s a myth out there that calm means you don’t care. Or that you’re not taking things seriously. I run into this all the time—someone holds steady under pressure, and people interpret it as coldness or apathy.

Jake Ramirez

Yeah, it’s like, if you’re not shouting, folks think you’re asleep at the wheel. But honestly, the research says the opposite. Calm leadership is contagious. If you lose your mind, the whole room follows. Emotional contagion, right?

Imani Rhodes

Absolutely—psychology backs this up. Our emotional tone sets the temperature for the team. And naming what’s real—like, “I’m frustrated, but I’m not gonna hand my frustration the mic”—that’s leadership. I’m showing I care more about fixing it than about venting.

Jake Ramirez

Yeah, you can signal urgency without panic. I had a job site, man, just a train wreck. Rain coming down, we’re running behind, and someone broke a bunch of panels by accident. I felt my blood pressure spike. For a split second, I wanted to snap—real bad. But I just stared at the mess and went, “Okay. We gotta sort this.” Made eye contact with the whole crew, talked slow, let my tone drop. Didn’t mean I wasn’t angry, just… not gonna let it control me.

Imani Rhodes

Your calm didn’t erase the problem. It made it safe to actually address it, instead of everyone just getting defensive or shutting down. And there are small ways to steady a room, too—steady your voice, choose to name the feeling, keep your head up, slow your speech so your team joins you in that rhythm. That’s subtle, but people feel it immediately.

Jake Ramirez

Totally. Sometimes all I’ll say is, “This is frustrating, yeah. And I’m not ignoring that. Let’s talk about where we go from here.” Super simple stuff, but it lets people breathe—and then they get creative about solutions. Calm isn't weakness, it’s what turns a problem into a coaching moment.

Jake Ramirez

Alright, so we've talked about those little 1% assists, right? This is kinda the grown-up version of that—it’s those moments when chaos hits and your team needs more than just passing someone a tool. It’s about how you coach, not just what you say. Like Imani, you’ve got that youth basketball story that perfectly nails this, right?

Imani Rhodes

Yeah, I love this one. So this coach, her team’s just melting down—missed plays, arguing, finger-pointing. She’s watching all this with her stomach in knots, her first instinct is to yell, just to get their attention. But instead she remembers: breathe first. She literally stands on the sidelines, does a couple slow breaths, and you can almost see her energy change. Next thing, instead of more chaos, the team starts matching her. She gets them huddled up, says, “We’re messy, but let’s solve one problem at a time.” From there, the whole vibe shifts. Not because she’s a genius, but because she modeled how to steady herself—and then them.

Jake Ramirez

I see that every day, honestly. It’s almost never about raw talent under stress—it’s about how teams talk with each other, especially when things get tough. You see the difference as soon as people start reacting to each-other, not just the-crisis. I’m curious, for you—I mean, physically—what’s your first sign you need a reset? For me it’s like, my neck gets tight, jaw clenched, I wanna move or yell. Half the time I just have to shake it out or physically step out for a breath.

Imani Rhodes

Yeah, I can just feel it, hands get restless. I’m learning it’s breath first—if I ground my feet, tune in to something I can see or hear, even repeat a mantra, I can reset. But I’m curious too, like—listeners, what about you? When pressure spikes, what’s your go-to reset—breath, movement, words? Shoot us a message or comment. Experiment with it next time you feel yourself about to react. That’s how new habits start.

Jake Ramirez

Yeah, give it a shot, seriously.

Imani Rhodes

And thanks everyone for listening, experimenting, and showing up to lead like people—not robots. We’ll be back soon. See you-all in chapter 11.