You’re Doing Great. You Just Need More Experience.
- Amy Powell
- Apr 23
- 6 min read
A Sneak Peek from the Upcoming Book
Making Construction Fun Again: Structural Support for Those Building Our World
📅 Coming September 2025
I used to hear that phrase every year. During my annual reviews as a PE and later as a PM, I’d get positive feedback, a bonus or a raise, and then a version of the same well-meaning sentence:
“You’re doing great, Amy! You just need more experience.”
And sure, I appreciated the recognition. But deep down, I felt a little… stuck.
What I wanted was the path to be easier. A checklist of sorts. Or a marked up map, like school:
“Turn in these two deliverables, get a B+ on your tests, and you’ll move on to the next grade level.”
But the feedback was always vague. And I always walked away wondering: Well how do I get more experience faster so I can earn that next step?
Now, years later, after finally earning the kind of experience they were talking about, I finally understand. And I also understand why no one could explain it clearly back then.
Because what they meant by “experience” wasn’t about perfecting the process. It wasn’t about being the fastest or always staying within the lines. It wasn’t even about delivering projects on time and under budget.
It was about who you become when things go off track. When the project gets complicated. When the team dynamic shifts. When something goes wrong and no one’s handing you a neat set of solutions.
That’s when leadership begins. That’s when responsibility starts to take shape.
Responsibility ≠ Authority
Back then, I thought I was ready for responsibility, but what I really wanted was authority.
Authority is the title. Responsibility is owning the outcome, even when it’s messy, uncertain, or unfair. That’s not something you can fast-track.
You earn it in the middle of tough jobs, broken plans, and moments that demand more than just technical skill. You earn it when your response becomes bigger than the situation in front of you.
That’s What Making Construction Fun Again Is About
This book isn’t about teaching you how to “move up the ladder.” It’s about supporting those who are already in it, carrying the weight of crews, budgets, deadlines, and expectations. It’s a reminder that even in the hardest moments, this work can still be fun. It can still be fulfilling. And it’s still worth doing.
Sneak Peek: Our Responsibility
The story I’m sharing today—Our Responsibility—is one of the moments that taught me the real meaning of leadership.
It changed how I saw the job—and myself.
It’s incredible how words take on new meaning as we go through life. Like water slowly carving a deeper canyon over time, experience reshapes these words and gives them more weight. Take responsibility, for example. Initially, I thought responsibility was simply something earned by climbing the ranks—I realize now that I'd confused it with authority.
Early in my career, I saw responsibility as measured in deliverables—deadlines met, budgets balanced, productivity maintained. If a project stayed on schedule and within budget, I assumed I had done my job well. I was nailing the technical aspect of responsibility without yet fully grasping the human side of it.
One day, after leaving a jobsite, I heard worried murmurs from my team about a trench collapse at a nearby residential project unrelated to the project I was managing. When I got home, I turned on the news. Nearly 60 rescuers had been working tirelessly for hours, trying to save a young construction worker trapped under 15 feet of dirt. His teammate had already lost his life in the collapse, buried somewhere in the same trench.
The rescuers moved as fast as they could, digging by hand, using buckets and shovels. An excavator was out of the question—the displaced soil would have crushed the trapped worker instantly. For hours, he was still alive. Still breathing. Still talking to the rescuers through a site utility pipe—the very pipe he had likely installed earlier that day. They contacted his family, who was able to talk with him through that same pipe one last time. And then—silence.
The rescuers couldn’t reach him in time. He didn’t make it.
I sat there, feeling the weight of that moment sink deep into my gut. I am not much of a crier. But it stayed with me. I found myself thinking about it—and crying about it—for weeks afterward. Like that slow carving of a canyon I mentioned earlier, the grief etched a deeper groove with each passing day.
I was so angry! This was a completely avoidable accident if the proper safety measures had been taken. I thought about the project manager and superintendent on that job—the weight they must have carried knowing two men had died under their watch. I imagined what it would feel like to hear my husband’s last words through a PVC pipe. I thought about his crewmates, the ones who worked beside him that morning, who saw the collapse, who likely started digging with their hands or whatever tools they could find to uncover their teammate. The ones who ran for help but could do nothing else but wait. I thought about the families, their grief, their loss.
Two lives lost. Two families forever changed. An industry forever scarred. The impact that rippled far beyond that jobsite.
In construction, tragedies like this are, unfortunately, all too common. Sometimes we even live through them. When we do, we carry them with us. It feels like a punch to the gut, except, unlike a physical wound, this one doesn’t heal. This industry demands a lot from us—the mental strength, the endurance, the weight of responsibility. It can be overwhelming, but it is also one of the most meaningful, rewarding careers imaginable.
This experience was an impactful lesson—responsibility took on a new meaning. It’s not just about budgets and deadlines. It’s about people.
We don’t just build structures. We build opportunities. We build environments where people can thrive, not just survive. When responsibility is taken seriously, we create workplaces where people don’t just endure pressure—they grow under it. When it’s ignored, though, corners get cut, safety is overlooked, and worst of all, people get hurt. This is the real weight of our work. It’s why responsibility, when fully embraced, isn’t a burden. It’s a privilege.
Our work matters. The people in it matter. If we learn to own and carry responsibility with purpose, it doesn’t just make this industry rewarding—it shapes us into leaders who have lasting impacts.
So, we build strength and endurance to carry this weight. Learning from the hard moments. We take responsibility not because it’s easy, but because it matters. And if we do it right—if we lead with both strength and purpose—we don’t just build projects.
We build legacies.
To the young men who lost their lives that day, and to their families who’s carried the weight of this loss—I carry you in my thoughts. Your stories are not forgotten. You remind us why safety, responsibility, and looking out for each other can never come second. May your legacy push us all to do better, so no one else has to face a tragedy like this again.
Why This Story Matters
Our Responsibility is just one of many stories inside Making Construction Fun Again.
And while this particular story reflects one of the hardest truths about our industry, it’s not shared to dwell on tragedy.
It’s a reminder that construction has always been about people.
The processes, the schedules, the wins—those are important. But they aren’t the whole story.
At the heart of this industry is the human element: the relationships we build, the care we show for the people working beside us, and the pride that comes from doing hard things together.
This book is about bringing that human focus back to the forefront. Because when we do, that’s when this work becomes rewarding again. That’s when it becomes fun again.
Not because it’s easy, but because we’re connected to something bigger than just the task in front of us.
When we look out for one another, take care of our teams, and carry the weight together, we create jobsites people want to be part of.
And we build legacies we can all be proud of.
📅 Making Construction Fun Again releases in September 2025. (Avoiding the chaos of Summer)
Want to be first in line for pre-orders? Subscribe to our Book Update Emails using the button below:
And if you’re looking to bring this message to your team through Well Works Workshops or our Leadership Development Programs, we’d love to connect. Email Amy, Well Works Founder and CEO direct at apowell@livingwellworks.org or visit our website for more information at www.livingwellworks.org.
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