Leadership through Tariff Chaos and Embracing Autoculture 2.0

[Transcript]

[: 00:00:00

Stay true to yourself, be you, and lead with Gravitas, the hallmark of authentic leadership. Let's dive in.

This episode is brought to you by Lockton. Lockton redefines business insurance and people solutions with a personal touch. Their global team of 11,000 is driven by independence, not quarters to tailor success for your business. Discover the Lockton difference, where your goals become their mission.

Independence, it's not just how you think but how you act.

e on Monday, March the third,: 2025

We've got suppliers down in the tiers saying, basically, if you don't accept the tariffs, my tier one or OEM customer, then I'm not shipping. So, we're in for a very interesting time in our beloved auto industry. But I want to take this back to leadership. Of course, I do. Leaders have a primary responsibility to bring calm to the chaos. And it doesn't mean that you are supposed to have all the answers. Far from it. But it does mean that you need to instill a certain level of confidence with your team and with your business that we will find a way through this—and we will. We don't know exactly what that looks like right now, but we are a resilient industry. We have pained through many disruptions. I don't know that we expected it to come from our own government, but here we are, and we will get through it.

As a leader, stay calm and reinforce to your teams that together, we will figure a way around it, through it, over it, but we will get through it. And it's this point in time that really tests us as leaders. How will you lead during this period of chaos? Because there's no doubt it will be chaos. Will you employ a more command and control style? Will you be afraid, and you will naturally move into a command and control style? Or will you stay the course? Will you stay calm? Will you stay true to yourself? And will you employ a more authentic leadership style? The choice is yours.

On a more personal note, this week, last year, I launched the book AutoCulture 2.0. And it was the best night of my life. So, I want to end today on a positive note and leave you with the introduction and the first two chapters of the book. The book is available on Audible, so we have each chapter in audio format. So please enjoy, hold tight, we're in for a wild ride in this industry, but we're gonna get through it.

Introduction.

We are in a period of massive transformation in the auto industry.

As journalist, entrepreneur, and “Autoline” host John McElroy told me on the 100th episode of the Automotive Leaders Podcast, “We’ll see more change in the next seven years than we’ve seen in the past 100 years.”

In business (and in our everyday lives), change happens whether we want it to or not. New technologies revolutionize the way we work and relate to one another. Markets rise and fall. Cultural norms and generational values shift. A pandemic transforms entire economies and industries, seemingly overnight. Meanwhile, the climate changes gradually, reshaping our world in subtle but profound ways.

Growing up in Wales, I never imagined that I’d move to America and build a career in the automotive world. And as I climbed the corporate ladder, I certainly didn’t foresee leaving a high-powered executive position to launch my own business. And of course, “podcast” wasn’t in my vocabulary.

We can’t fathom what the world will look like in seven years, let alone a century. But I’ve learned that accepting change with an open heart can pay dividends. We can evolve alongside these transformations—and we can even shape their impact. Sometimes, we have to learn completely new skills and strategies, but that’s necessary if we want to participate in a changing world instead of letting it pass us by.

If that’s a bit too esoteric, look at it this way: Installing new software often requires an upgrade to the latest operating system. We can’t expect to run a 4K video-editing application on Windows 95.

So it is with the automotive world. As leaders, we must upgrade the “operating systems” for how we work—to what I call AutoCulture 2.0.

To innovate, we need to make room for new ways of working. We need to lead our teams differently—with authenticity, with purpose, and with a focus on nurturing human potential—a bundle of qualities I call Gravitas.

The entire auto industry is laser-focused on product transformation right now. But as we embrace the move from the internal combustion engine to battery electric vehicles (BEVs), we risk neglecting the cultural transformation necessary to make the shift.

Thriving in the BEV/NEV ecosystem requires an update to AutoCulture 2.0.

Many of us are still in the watch-and-wait mindset, hoping (or assuming) improvement will be incremental instead of considering radical changes to the ways we lead and operate as teams. We need to ask ourselves what innovation culture looks and feels like in each of our organizations.

The automotive business is more than a century old, but the leadership model that got us here will not take us more than a few years into the future.

John McElroy tells me that in our dynamic industry, “culture and leadership are probably more important now than ever before.”

But it's more than just the product changing: We have to “unlearn all the practices of the past and learn new ones,” he adds. “And it takes a totally different mindset to do that.”

He says that he feels a little bit like a modern-day Paul Revere: The transition is coming! The transition is coming!

“The revolution is about us,” John explains. “But I don't see that level of alarm in enough places. There are people who know what's coming, but not enough of them … and the clock is ticking from a cultural perspective.”

What exactly do we need to unlearn? “Command & Control” leadership: the hierarchical, rigid, authoritarian, and inflexible style that emphasizes compliance over conviction.

Another guest on my podcast, the visionary leadership author Steven M.R. Covey, writes in his book Trust and Inspire that operating from a Command & Control paradigm today is like “trying to play tennis with a golf club. The tool is completely ill-suited to the reality, to the game being played."

My mission is to be the architect of the cultural transformation from Command & Control to a more authentic leadership style, providing auto companies with the tools they need to accelerate change in their organizations.

The Automotive Leaders Podcast is a place for leaders in the industry — and thought leaders on the subject of cultural transformation — to share their stories and their insights in a conversational format. We strive to amplify the authentic leadership model and spotlight the luminaries we need in the automotive and mobility spaces as we transform them together.

This book is a snapshot of just some of the interviews featured on the podcast, along with a call to action at the end of each chapter so you can implement the principles of authentic leadership immediately.

There is no silver bullet approach to cultural transformation. Start by being you, your 100% most authentic self, and lead with Gravitas!

Chapter one. “How I stopped worrying and broke the corporate mold.”

I grew up on a small farm in South Wales. I spent my days riding horses and tagging along with my dad when he went to the pub with his friends. That’s where I learned to negotiate: in our cozy local with a drink in hand, haggling over the price of tractor parts and hay.

When I was in high school, I was lucky enough to go to Paris on a school trip. I still have a snapshot of myself leaning against a chic, petite sports car. I could see my future in that little coupe. It looked like it belonged in the life I wanted, even though I wasn’t sure what I’d do to earn it.

I was supposed to grow up and marry the farmer next door, but I felt an inner fire that made me want to see the world—and to build something of my own.

I studied business at the University of Wales in Swansea, soaking up every bit of knowledge I could, dreaming of my next adventure.

Then, one day, I was out on the farm riding when I heard my mother yelling for me to come inside. I had a phone call—a job offer, in fact, for a temporary administrative position in the purchasing department of a company called Borg Warner. I accepted, of course. It was my first job.

At that time, Borg Warner was a global automotive supplier producing transmissions in Wales for the European market. The first day I walked onto the manufacturing plant floor, I knew I was going to love it there. There was something intoxicating about the smell of oil and coolant in the air, the buzz of the equipment, and the workers’ palpable sense of pride and workmanship. It sparked something inside me. I was determined to make my way in the auto business, even though I had no roadmap or role models to guide me.

Forty years ago, administrative employees were meant to dress “properly” for the office—and I read somewhere that you should always dress one level up from your current position—so I was always wearing high heels and a tailored dress or suit. Never mind that my clothes were outrageously out of place in a transmission manufacturing plant.

At first, my primary job was to make the coffee for my co-workers in purchasing—not because I was the office rookie with no title or experience, but because I was the girl in the department.

But I also made copies of blueprints to send to suppliers. I didn’t know how to read them, but they were fascinating to me.

Day in and day out, I bombarded the engineers with questions. I wanted to understand everything about the manufacturing process. And eventually, I began to really grasp the seemingly magical way schematics became tangible components, which then became powerful machines. I became quite good at explaining that process.

I was like a walking bill of materials for Borg Warner’s most recent product lines, so when the company needed to send someone to its plant in Muncie, Indiana, U.S.A.—apparently, none of my colleagues wanted to deal with the specific project at hand—the plant manager naturally thought of a certain feisty farm girl in the purchasing department.

It was: 1987

When I finally arrived in Muncie, I checked into the Signature Inn, which didn’t seem to endorse anything besides strange breakfast foods. I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of eating doughnuts in the morning or putting maple syrup on bacon, which made me gag. I’d never seen anything like it in my entire life.

I was alone and wholly unprepared for life in the U.S. Light switches were different. Doors were different. The ways people did so many things were different.

I thought that stop signs were for information only—signifying a scenic rest area, perhaps? I didn’t realize what they meant (and I didn’t stop my car when I encountered one) until a fellow motorist followed me, flagged me down, and admonished me. How was I to know? I’d never even driven on the right side of the road before.

My driver’s license, which didn’t include a photo, was written in both English and Welsh, so I figured if the police pulled me over, I’d show them the Welsh side. I knew they’d be stupefied by the lack of vowels. Most people couldn’t even understand me when I spoke because my accent was so strong. I couldn’t order from a drive-thru for years.

But of course, I needed to be understood. I had to listen to everyone around me and assimilate into American culture. I eventually began to pronounce things with enough of a Midwestern intonation (or lack of a Wales-y one) to avoid any faux pas.

I learned to become what my employers wanted me to be. And that was someone I could act like, but not for long. Metrics of success were how tough someone was, how many hours one worked, and how aggressive one’s tactics could be when dealing with suppliers.

We always had to be present on-site at the plant, Midwestern winters be damned. Even if the snow was up to my eyeballs, I made it there; otherwise, I looked like a weakling. I took on the psychological armor of a Hoosier, but without any knowledge of basketball. I scoffed, along with my coworkers, at the people that weren’t “strong enough” to drive to work in crazy-dangerous, treacherous driving conditions.

I was a good soldier. I never complained. I was always up for traveling on weekends; personal life be damned. The more I gave up, the more I demonstrated my strength and commitment. For the most part, that dedication was recognized and celebrated.

I learned how to play that game, and I did it really well. However, there were cultural norms that were even more difficult to grasp.

As I mentioned earlier, I grew up going to the pub with my dad. Welsh culture is very much focused on the pub as the social center of any neighborhood or town. Drinking alcohol is a part of that culture.

Back at Borg Warner in Wales, my coworkers and I left work on Friday and made a beeline for the pub. That’s where some of the best meetings took place. Sometimes it just took being away from the work environment to come to a consensus about whatever we were working on. I often felt like we could solve most of the plant’s problems in that pub on Friday nights.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t find the same kind of pub camaraderie in Muncie. I learned that it’s not cool to ask married men (or women, for that matter) out for drinks after work. They didn’t realize I was trying to network—maybe to forge friendships—not asking them out to throw back $1 “Thirsty Thursday” shots and buckets of beer.

At one point, some anonymous coworker put an AA leaflet on my desk.

That’s when I really started to feel like I didn’t belong. I was an outsider, and that didn’t change until I left Indiana and established myself in Detroit. But even then, I was a woman in a man’s world.

I was used to the casual sexism. The farming community in which I grew up was an overwhelmingly male culture. The pub was separated into two areas, with the bar to the left (for the men) and the carpeted “lounge” to the right, where women, families, and couples were seated. So my presence at my father’s side at the bar was a bit of an anomaly. I was somehow accepted into the male culture of our farming community, although I wasn’t “Jan”; I was “Em’s daughter.” I was there only because my father shepherded me inside.

Even so, I was comfortable enough with male-dominated spaces to be nonplussed by all manner of American behavior. I learned to assimilate into American culture, and my career progressed rapidly.

After BorgWarner, I took on roles in many different functions: purchasing, supply chain, sales, manufacturing, and program management. I worked with some great companies, including GKN, Teleflex, Bosch, and Inteva Products.

Along the way, I observed many different leadership styles. Some resonated with me, some I adopted, and some I wanted no part of. But I always had a sense that for each career progression within each company, there was a set of expectations—a mold that I was expected to fit. And I always contorted myself into whatever was necessary.

I drew on my experience emigrating to the U.S. with no safety net, which left me with sharper instincts about human nature and much more empathy for others. No matter where I go and who I encounter, I can find a way to connect. So I did fairly well assimilating into each company culture, to be what they wanted me to be.

But I always knew I wasn’t truly being myself.

Over the years, I’ve been told to dial it back. Don’t be so direct. Sometimes you’re just too much. For decades, I had to throw a blanket over my personality to dampen it down, and that didn’t feel quite right to me.

It wasn’t until: 2010

In 2013, I landed my dream job as vice president of global supply chain management for a $3 billion auto supplier. I was named one of the top 100 leading women in the automotive industry. I was in my element. And for the most part, I was able to employ a leadership style that felt right to me.

Yet I wasn’t fully aligned with my mission and purpose in life. Did I even know what that purpose was?

I’ve known for many years that I loved leadership as a discipline—and helping others become great leaders, both of their own lives and of others. I thrived when I was planning, structuring, and leading team meetings. I loved to help teams develop real vision and purpose; opening up discussions about the barriers and challenges they face; getting down deep into cultural issues and global complexities that slow down or prevent decision-making, and often make life miserable for people if they’re not addressed.

But that was just a small part of my role as a corporate vice president.

I was so constrained and defined by the never-ending treadmill of emails and meetings and PowerPoints and busy-ness that I had forgotten to determine exactly where I was going.

At the same time, I began to contemplate retirement. Well, at least I thought about the numbers (age and/or net worth) that would signify enough success to allow me to bow out while I was on top.

I also began mulling over the idea of starting my own business and focusing on my true passion: leadership.

I was 52, and I was really finding myself for the first time.

But the thought of leaving my well-paying, long-fought-for dream job to found a startup seemed ludicrous. I could stay the course and stay safe in my corporate role… or I could get out and do what I love, but I’d have to voluntarily watch my income go from C-suite to zero practically overnight.

Who does that?

Me. I do. I did. I broke the mold.

I embraced the rebellious spirit I always had inside, and I made a choice.

launched Gravitas Detroit in: 2018

The transformation from the internal combustion engine to the battery electric vehicle is already underway. The culture, too, must transform with it. The time is now for culture change in the automotive industry.

“You can't win in the marketplace without also winning in the workplace," says Stephen M. R. Covey, who we’ll meet in the next chapter.

My career and life journey have brought me to the here and now. I'm exactly where I should be, need to be—and want to be: in a position to drive culture change in the automotive world.

Ready to join me? Let’s go!

Chapter two. “Trust & Inspire”: A Paradigm Shift for the Digital Era.

When I talk about authentic leadership and trust to audiences of automotive industry leaders, I usually get more than a few eye rolls. Many auto execs spent years climbing the corporate ladder (and finally settled on its upper rungs) precisely because they practiced Command & Control. And they did it well.

Trust isn’t something they can measure and plot on a spreadsheet. They think: Well, that’s nice. But that’s the soft stuff. We’ve got a business to run. Why should I change?

If they asked that question out loud, I’d tell them that the world of work—and the very mission of our industry—already has changed, and they’re in danger of being left behind.

Stephen M. R. Covey provides a more subtle, research-backed answer: You'll build a better culture (and thus get better results) with what he calls “Trust & Inspire” leadership (outlined in his book of the same name), based on the belief that people will rise to their full potential if they are truly led instead of simply managed.

ess and leadership, including: 1989

If the elder Covey was the late 20th century’s preeminent expert on developing character as a path to success—as opposed to most self-help advice on improving behavior and personality—his son is today’s authority on the power of trust.

Stephen has followed in his father’s footsteps as a bestselling author, popular speaker, and Harvard Business School MBA. Like his father, he bases his teachings on commonsense principles, interweaving them with anecdotes about successful companies and CEOs as well as quotes by everyone from Maya Angelou to Mahatma Gandhi.

To Stephen, trust is much more than a “soft skill” or a social virtue. It’s a measurable, learnable skill that’s crucial for collaboration and innovation. He argues that although the workforce and work itself are changing rapidly, our models of leadership haven’t kept pace with the way we live today.

nspire on my podcast in early: 2022

Stephen, like I and a number of other business leaders across industries, have been saying for years that we need to ditch the “Command & Control” mindset. The rapid pace of change in our industry demands it.

“We’ve been clear about what we need to move from,” he says in our interview. “We’ve been less clear about naming, calling, describing what we need to move toward.”

After years in business—and two previous books, The Speed of Trust and Smart Trust—Stephen came to the realization that “Trust & Inspire” was a “beautiful juxtaposition” to Command & Control, and much more relevant for today.

Fast-tracking the paradigm shift.

COVID made Stephen’s work on trust particularly timely. But he thinks the pandemic simply accelerated trends that were already happening—dramatically.

ion of digital innovations in: 2020

Now it’s incredibly common, at least among knowledge workers, to work from home or just about anywhere. But back in 2019, concepts like “hybrid” schedules and “dispersed workforce” were largely reserved for tech startups. Today, workers can choose where and how they work.

“It’s clear that Command & Control is not going to work in this new world of work,” says Stephen. “I’m happy that we’re going to get there faster, because we can get results faster.”

I agree with him wholeheartedly. It sometimes seems as if the automotive industry invented Command & Control, although that honor goes to generations of (almost entirely) men in military leadership.

Stephen notes that everyday terminology like “frontline” workers, “silos,” and even “company” and “mission” are military terms. Detroit automakers just adopted this hierarchical, transactional leadership style, which seemed like a natural fit for managing the GIs who returned home after World War II and replenished the assembly lines.

However, “inaccurate paradigms can live on indefinitely,” Stephen says. Just because something feels familiar doesn’t mean it’s beneficial.

“When stress gets high, we tend to go on autopilot. We do what feels natural, whatever will lead to the most efficient, short-term solution. For most of us, Command & Control feels natural.” Quote from Stephen M. R.Covey, from “Trust and Inspire.”

Manage things, lead people.

In order to buy into Stephen’s assertions about trust, you have to believe, as he does (and I do), that people are inherently good.

“Command & Control leaders operate under a paradigm of position and power,” he writes. “Trust & Inspire leaders operate under a paradigm of people and potential.”

In my experience, we in the auto industry waste massive amounts of time and energy on devising, administering, and supervising complicated processes designed to prevent mistakes—because we just assume somebody will screw up. Inevitably, someone (or a few people) will, whether or not we roll out yards of red tape and corresponding demerits.

We lead with a fear of the handful of workers who disappoint us, instead of presuming our teams will make us proud.

“Those with a Command & Control mindset typically manage people the same way they manage things,” Stephen says. “The constant focus on efficiency often leads to managers treating people the same way they would treat a machine.”

To further extend his analogy, think about how we treat machines. If they are properly operated and maintained, we expect them to work. We don’t design workflows with the assumption that our tools and equipment will break down. Of course, we make contingency plans, but we have a certain amount of faith in our machinery.

Automotive leaders sometimes govern as if their workforce could revolt at any moment. They don’t trust their own people.

Compounding this situation, seniority has long been the chief currency of the automotive workplace. And while experience is valuable, seniority alone is an insufficient metric of expertise. It’s a vestige of Command & Control.

We shouldn’t limit our trust to only those who have spent 20-plus years at the company. (And it’s increasingly rare for anyone to spend the majority of their career working for one employer.)

We have to build trust with everyone.

Get out of the weeds.

Trust requires us to let go of any tendencies toward micromanagement.

I learned this the hard way as I moved away from Command & Control and toward a more authentic leadership style. It didn’t happen overnight; it took years to break out of the ingrained behaviors. But in my last corporate role, I began to realize that connecting with my team on a deeper level led to better outcomes. Trying to get my arms around all the stuff they were working on did not.

But the prevailing corporate culture made me feel that, even as a C-suite leader, I had to be down in the weeds with my teams, scrutinizing every detail of their work. Micromanaging was a badge of honor.

I struggled with that, wondering why I had to be on so many calls when I had a whole team of people who could handle them. When I did jump on a call, I felt like I cut their legs out from under them. I preferred to support them from the wings, not burst onto the stage while they played their parts.

I told them: I have your back, I’m with you. Let me know what you need to keep moving forward.

But as one of the first execs on that corporate team to intentionally move to a more authentic leadership model—a Trust & Inspire model, although I didn’t know it at the time—I found myself alone in my efforts.

It’s hard being the first one to buck the system and try something new.

Relationships matter, and science proves it.

You don’t have to believe that trust, transparency, and other hallmarks of authentic leadership are necessary to ensure competitiveness in the marketplace. You can look at it through a lens of pure economics, says Stephen.

e automotive industry back in: 2000

Dyer and Chu found that relationships between OEMs and suppliers that are built on trust move faster with less cost—with “all kinds of economic outcomes that were better, that were quantifiable and hard-edged,” Stephen says.

He notes that Plante Moran’s annual Working Relations Index, which measures the health of supply chain collaboration and purchasing organization effectiveness, shows similar data. Higher levels of trust led to increased transparency, better communication, and greater outcomes, including gains in efficiency and productivity—and reductions in the cost of doing business and time to market.

Empowerment breeds productivity.

Trust is the cornerstone of a healthy workplace culture—an environment and an ethos that makes people want to work for a company and stay there. They’re also more likely to be engaged and productive. Backed by data, these points aren’t just theories.

In Trust & Inspire, Stephen cites a study by the Great Place to Work Institute that shows Millennials are 22 times more likely to stay in a company with a high-trust culture.

That means allowing people to make decisions instead of dictating to them from above. Perhaps most importantly, it means empowering every worker at every level to suggest new ideas, to give each employee a voice, and to take their suggestions and their criticisms seriously.

“It doesn’t make sense to hire smart people and tell them what to do; we hire smart people so they can tell us what to do.” Quote by Steve Jobs.

Famously, assembly-line workers at Toyota are not only empowered to call out problems but also held responsible to do so. If any employee notices a defect, they can push a button that stops everything immediately.

According to Lean management blogger Jason Lenny, managers who implemented this workflow for the first time saw their teams’ productivity drop because they spent so much time fixing defects.

But as time went on, they began producing much faster, cheaper, and more reliably than their counterparts. Slowly but surely, they caught up with teams that didn’t use the “Stop the Line” process and eventually exceeded those teams.

Quiet quitting, engagement and inspiration.

2022 was the year “quiet quitting” went viral.

“Quiet quitters” are employees who make the least effort, or do the minimum tasks required, to fulfill their roles. If their roles involve a bit of after-hours communication, they avoid it at all costs.

“Quiet quitting” is the pendulum that swung back too far from the 24/7, “always on” workaholism that leads to burnout.

Is this a new phenomenon, or just another way to describe workers who aren’t fully engaged with their work? Is it a reaction to poor work-life balance, and can a company build a culture that promotes engagement without presuming that employees should answer emails on the weekend?

To disentangle these concerns, leaders should start with themselves.

In an August: 2022

They go on to urge leaders to ask themselves:

Is this a problem with my direct reports, or is this a problem with me and my leadership abilities?

Engagement is crucial to productivity, but inspiration is what differentiates a good team from a great one.

“Take away our 20-best people, and I will tell you that Microsoft will become an unimportant company.” Quote from Bill Gates.

In “Trust & Inspire,” Stephen cites ADP Research Institute’s findings that people are 14 times more likely to be fully engaged when they can trust their immediate leader. He also includes the results of a study by consulting firm Bain & Company, which found that employees who characterize themselves as “inspired” are 56% more productive than engaged employees and 125% more productive than employees who self-report as “satisfied.” (46-47) Consider the etymology of the word inspire itself: “The Latin root inspirare, which means ‘to breathe into,’” Stephen writes. “Put another way, inspire means to bring life into something that is lifeless. So, to inspire someone is to breathe life into them.”

“We can sway people to action, or we can inspire them to greater performance.” - Stephen M. R.Covey, “Trust &Inspire” (43)

Culture first, and the innovation will follow.

While we can win in the workplace by inspiring a high-trust culture, Stephen says that to win in the marketplace, we must do so with collaboration and innovation. It’s the only way to stay relevant in a changing world.

The world of auto manufacturing is changing by the day. Our industry is being shaped by disruptive technologies that make things like autonomous driving and electric vehicles possible.

As automotive leaders, we’re getting better at embracing those technologies and strategizing for the future. But we’re not good at recognizing the need to change our workplace culture—and the way we lead.

Stephen reminds me that both workplace transformation and innovation happen in sequence.

“It’s hard to sustain winning in the marketplace if we are not winning in the workplace,” he says. “Because if you don’t build a high-trust culture, in the long run, you will not be able to collaborate [or] innovate very well at all. You'll lose your edge and you'll fall behind.”

But when teams trust their leaders—and each other—they’re better at collaboration. And collaboration leads to innovation.

A study by consulting firm LRN shows that people in high-trust workplace cultures are 32 times more likely to take smart, responsible, calculated risks. They’re also 11 times more likely to innovate and six times more likely to achieve higher performance. “Trust is what enables all of this to happen,” says Stephen.

Your automotive leadership call to action.

Ask yourself these three questions and jot down your off-the-cuff responses. Then poll your team and discuss their replies.

1. It’s clear that we’re not returning to (pre-COVID) business as usual. Do you agree that transformation is happening right now in the workplace (as well as the marketplace)?

2. Are you more of a Command & Control leader or an authentic leader, and why?

3. What does trust mean to you? What actions can you take to nurture trust with your team and others?

To listen to the full interview on the Automotive Leaders Podcast, click on the accompanying PDF.

Thank you for listening to the Automotive Leaders Podcast. Click the listen link in the show notes to subscribe for free on your platform of choice, and don't forget to download the 21 Traits of Authentic Leadership PDF by clicking on the link below. And remember, stay true to yourself, be you, and lead with Gravitas, the hallmark of authentic leadership.