The 2001 recession, lasting from March to November, created significant challenges for small business owners. I was pretty young at the time. In my twenties, I worked as a real estate assistant in the commercial and luxury space. Personally, I didn’t feel the impact of that recession at all.

Our company was succeeding. My income wasn’t affected. In fact, I was growing rapidly and even received a substantial raise that year.

So when vendors would call the office asking for work, I brushed them off quickly. I would tell them—politely enough, but firmly—that we already had all the vendor relationships we needed and that we were loyal to them. We didn’t need anyone else.

They would disconnect from the call, and I never gave a second thought to how that conversation landed on the other end of the line.

What’s humbling to admit now is this: the younger version of me—who genuinely believed she cared about people—didn’t even register that the person on the other end of that phone had feelings. I was oblivious.

One day, my office manager overheard one of those calls. She was standing behind me and heard the entire exchange. The caller was the owner of a small business, humbling himself enough to pick up the phone and ask if we needed his services. I was quick. Short. Eager to end the call. I wasn’t kind. I wasn’t warm. I wasn’t trying to be.

And my office manager laid into me.

She said, “Sandra, if a business owner is calling around looking for work for himself and his employees, he must be in a desperate position. This is not normal. This is hard for him. And the way you just spoke to him—unkind, unconcerned—that matters.”

She was right. I knew it instantly. Tears filled my eyes.

That moment stayed with me.

Fast forward to today.

I now intentionally support small business owners here in Lancaster. I listen to them. I take their contact information. I learn about their services. I evaluate their work thoughtfully. I get to know them as people—not just as vendors.

I’m also calmer when others are short or rude with me. I recognize it. I remember being that person once. I’m no longer rushed, anxious, or operating from scarcity. I’m not desperate to secure work. I’m waiting for life to unfold with a quiet assurance that it will—and a confidence that my skills will land where they are meant to.

When I think back to my twenties, working in that office in King of Prussia, every day felt like learning. Even when I was teaching people above my position about technology or new online tools, I was still absorbing far more than I was giving. Those years were sponge years. I grew fast. I was proud of that growth. I compared myself only to who I had been before—not to the top of the company. Those people felt untouchable.

Looking back, I see that I wasn’t just being trained in tasks. I was being shaped in how to relate to others.

And that shaping matters most now.

There is something deeply meaningful about living in what I call the quiet power years.

I like these years.

They are the years when you’ve already climbed much of the ladder—or you’ve stepped away from the traditional grind to build something you dreamed about for a long time. These are not years of sacrifice. You already did the sacrificing. These are years of choice.

I remember when my children were young. The days were long and exhausting. They needed constant attention. The rewards were real, but so was the second-guessing. Did I do everything right? Careers in early adulthood feel similar—constant evaluation, feedback, presentations, pats on the back followed by quiet conversations behind closed doors.

Those years were hard.

Once they pass, life doesn’t become easy—but it becomes earned. There is a calm authority that comes from “I’ve been there.” From “I understand.” These are the years when you begin to reap the rewards of the difficult seasons you endured.

WHY LANCASTER APPEALS TO PEOPLE IN THEIR QUIET POWER YEARS →

This month, we wandered through Lancaster for great recommendations.

Hi! I’m Sandra Burkholder - a local Realtor, blogger, community advocate, and mom passionate about helping people experience the heart of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.

About Sandra →

Until next Wednesday,

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