The Power of a Well-Placed Why

Turning years of experience in storytelling and event design into catalytic facilitation at the World Health Organization

In school, I never hesitated to volunteer. I remember being a cheerleader for basketball despite being 4 feet 11 inches tall and definitely not the fastest on any field. Sports weren’t exactly my thing, but I loved bringing energy, pulling people together, and making sure everyone felt connected. Even though it was a tiny school, with only about 70 students in my graduating class, there were plenty of committees and clubs—Pep Club, FBLA, Student Council—and I ended up holding a governance role in nearly all of them. By senior year, I was the student body president, coordinating events, and rallying people around shared goals. It wasn’t ambition; it was simply a love for building momentum and energy.

I think a lot of that came from the way I was raised. My mom always pushed me to get involved, try everything, step out of my comfort zone. Being curious, eager, and willing to dive into new things just became second nature. It shaped my instinct to step into leadership roles, even though at the time I wasn’t really thinking about leadership or facilitation at all.

When I was at DHL, our vice president asked me to present at an internal department meeting. I was one of the most junior people in the room, but I stepped up and delivered my content my way—casual, interactive, conversational. I had everyone laughing, engaging, and openly giving feedback. Months later, at an all-hands meeting, she singled me out, saying, “Our best presenter is Kristi.” I was stunned. I hadn’t been intentionally performing; I had just been myself. But that moment sparked a curiosity. I began to wonder: what exactly was I doing differently? How could I refine it and become more intentional about creating engaging experiences for others?

I brought this mindset into our sports marketing initiatives. At baseball games, we didn’t just put up a DHL banner—we created a story. We dressed up as DHL drivers and delivered pizza to fans in the stands; we made it fun, memorable, and immersive. We had to create moments where people felt part of something bigger, moments that would linger long after the game ended. This wasn’t just brand building; it was community building, story building, and momentum building.

Later, when I transitioned into internal communications, I faced the challenge of getting people aligned around internal goals and strategies, which is notoriously difficult. I instinctively leaned into workshop formats—though, again, I wasn’t explicitly calling it facilitation yet. I realized traditional presentations weren’t going to move the needle. I needed engagement. That meant interactive activities, structured conversations, and visual ways of working.

It was around this time I started working with a coach, Mary Beth Mains, who became both a mentor and a good friend. She continually reinforced what I was naturally good at. I often overlooked these skills because they came easily to me, but she encouraged me to see them clearly, to acknowledge them as valuable, and to build on them intentionally. That encouragement was a crucial pivot point—it validated that my natural instincts were worth honing and deepening.

When the Format Becomes the Force

Moving to WHO brought a new level of complexity. Here I was, trying to help teams implement global health solutions in wildly diverse contexts. Every country had its own starting point, its own political landscape, its own tech capabilities. There was no single implementation plan that worked for all 194 member states. You couldn’t just roll out a policy and expect it to land.

I started to notice where things were breaking down: our meetings. Teams would say, “We’ve had five meetings and nothing’s moving.” And I’d ask: “What happened in the meetings?” Usually, they’d show a slide deck, ask a few questions, and… nothing.

So I started intervening. Asking: what is the actual purpose of this meeting? Is this about informing? Co-creating? Making a decision? Let’s get clear on that first. Then let’s create space for the people in the room to actually participate. Even at academic conferences, where the norm is to present and move on, I began experimenting with embedded 1-2-4-Alls or structured prompts to turn passive listening into idea generation.

I wasn’t trying to overhaul everything overnight. But I did want to inject curiosity, experimentation, and shared authorship into the way we gather. Not just to feel better, but to actually get things done.

One memorable example came during a major WHO workshop originally planned as an in-person, three-day event. Due to unexpected funding cuts and travel freezes, my team had to rapidly pivot to hosting the event completely online. Everyone around me was skeptical, convinced it couldn’t be done effectively virtually. But I had just begun the Voltage Control facilitation certification and was learning powerful methods like Liberating Structures, particularly 1-2-4-All. I told my team, “We can do this.”

Despite resistance and logistical challenges—like no access to Zoom and limited familiarity with Microsoft Teams whiteboards—I methodically began to apply the facilitation techniques I was learning. We rehearsed, troubleshot, and experimented relentlessly. The result was a huge success. We didn’t just meet our objectives—we exceeded them. Participants engaged fully, contributed rich feedback, and left energized rather than drained. It was a revelation to my colleagues: facilitation wasn’t a nice-to-have; it was transformational. From then on, they trusted me to structure interactions differently, understanding the power of a thoughtfully designed meeting.

Clicking Through the Chaos

I found Voltage Control the way a lot of people do: by Googling. It was the fall of last year, and I was searching for facilitation programs. Voltage Control kept showing up on all these curated lists. Coming from a marketing background, I know lists can be bought. So I was skeptical at first. But I kept seeing them again and again. Either they were very rich, or very legit. (Spoiler: it wasn’t the former.)

What stood out was the length of the certification. Most other programs were a couple of days or weeks. This one was three months. That felt like the right depth. I’d done a creativity coaching program the year before and realized how valuable it is to stretch learning out over time. It lets you try things, apply them, and come back with questions.

So I applied. I didn’t overthink it. I tend to ask questions later and trust my gut.

Learning by Doing, Not by Lecture

I’ll be honest. I showed up to the first day of the certification without fully understanding what I had signed up for. Skye kept referencing the final portfolio presentation, and I kept thinking, “Wait, what are we working toward again?”

But I loved that it was experiential. There were no lectures on theory. We’d read something, then immediately use it—Troika, TRIZ, 1-2-4-All. There was no lengthy breakdown of the method; we’d just try it, reflect, and move on.

It affirmed what I’d always felt. I’d rather run a meeting with a handful of liberating structures than with a polished deck. PowerPoint makes me break out in hives. I’d rather people interact with each other and the content than just sit through slides.

The cohort itself was also a gift. We clicked quickly, and that made the solo weeks in the middle of the program harder. When we returned to the final phase, there was real joy in seeing everyone again. The feedback and encouragement I received, even from people I hadn’t worked with directly, was incredibly validating. It reminded me: this isn’t just something I enjoy, I’m actually good at it.

Prototyping Change in Real Time

During the certification, I was building a real-time workshop for WHO. Originally, it was going to be in-person over three days. Then came the travel ban. Suddenly, we were going remote. My team panicked. “There’s no way this will work online,” they said.

But I was in the middle of certification and knew it could work. I started slowly—shifting our planning meetings to be more participatory, getting the team familiar with breakout groups and digital whiteboards. They were skeptical, but I kept going.

We didn’t have a Zoom license, so we used Microsoft Teams, which is famously clunky. Our consultants logged in with personal Gmail accounts to practice. We ran rehearsals. We built the whiteboards. And we pulled it off.

The virtual workshop exceeded expectations. We didn’t just gather feedback; we co-designed implementation pathways. Participants shared what would and wouldn’t work in their contexts. They offered open-source code, shared plans, and talked openly about collaboration. It worked because we created space for them to speak.

From Host to Catalyst

Since the certification, I’m being asked to help more teams—not just run meetings, but design gatherings that work. I’m doing diagnostic work with colleagues: What is the real purpose of your meeting? What kind of engagement are you inviting? Is your format actually aligned with your goals?

In the middle of our reorg, I’ve been working with leadership on what happens after the org chart is published. What kind of culture do we want to create? How do we design the space to live into that culture?

The certification helped me name and strengthen something I was already doing intuitively. It gave me tools, vocabulary, and the confidence to stand by my choices. When someone pushes back—”People won’t do 1-2-4-All,”—I now know how to hold my ground and say, “Let’s try it. Let’s see what happens.

Bringing Intention to the Unknown

Looking ahead, I want to do more of this strategic work. Not just facilitation, but guiding teams through the full arc of convening—before, during, and after. Helping them set the right questions. Helping them listen better. Helping them design with their stakeholders, not just for them.

WHO’s mission is to convene. My work is about making those convenings matter.

Whether I’m designing a multi-country workshop or supporting leadership through change, I want to make sure we’re not just informing, but transforming. That people walk away not just with information, but with ownership.

If you’re on the fence about the certification, I say: jump in. Try it. See what happens. If you’re like me, you’ll ask questions later. But you’ll learn by doing, and you’ll leave with more confidence than you walked in with.

This isn’t a traditional classroom. It’s an experience. And if you’re someone who finds energy in ideas, who likes bringing people together for a reason, then you’re going to love it here.