Borsch, Garlic Donuts, and Leading Across cultures
Remote work makes it easy to forget just how far apart we really are. It’s one thing to know your teammate is in another time zone—it’s another to feel it. A few years ago, I was leading a release with a distributed team spread across the U.S., India, and Kharkiv, Ukraine. We were juggling time zones, deployment schedules, vendor coordination, and all the usual chaos that comes with cross-border collaboration. But what I remember most isn’t the deployment itself—it’s what we had for lunch.
During a team meeting, I casually asked what everyone was eating for lunch. It was meant as a light icebreaker, nothing fancy—just a way to feel a little more human together. When the folks from Kharkiv said they were eating borsch and garlic donuts, the rest of us paused. None of us U.S.-based folks had ever heard of garlic donuts before, and we had a moment of shared curiosity and laughter. That one simple question led to a surprisingly rich exchange about food, culture, and tradition. In that moment, we weren’t just a remote team—we were people across the map, breaking bread together, virtually.
That moment stuck with me. It reminded me that leadership across time zones isn’t just about structure. It’s about intentional connection. Since then, I’ve leaned into what I call “Otherwise Located” leadership—the practice of leading across cultures, time zones, and employment types with a mix of clarity, empathy, and curiosity. It starts with consistent rituals: daily standups, weekly team syncs, and shared ceremonies that create rhythm and reduce ambiguity. But it goes beyond meetings. It’s about creating space where people feel seen, heard, and part of something cohesive. Sometimes that looks like asking a quieter teammate for their thoughts in a follow-up message. Sometimes it means rescheduling a meeting so it’s not always 10 p.m. for someone in Europe. And sometimes, it means making time to talk about garlic donuts.
One practice I’ve picked up over the years is using Google Maps to “walk around” the neighborhood near my teammates’ office or home. I’ll look at the cafés on their street, explore their city’s downtown, or peek at the walking paths near their apartment. It’s not invasive—it’s grounding. It helps me picture their world. I get a feel for their day. I understand their commute, their scenery, even the rhythm of their morning. That small shift—visualizing where someone is—helps me be a more thoughtful and empathetic leader.
Working closely with engineers in Kharkiv has been a meaningful part of my leadership journey. It’s Ukraine—not “the Ukraine”—and that distinction is important. Language matters, especially when working with teams in regions that have experienced political or cultural marginalization. I’ve learned that in Ukrainian culture, communication tends to be more direct. Feedback is often blunt—not rude, just efficient. I’ve also learned that smiling in professional settings isn’t always common. A neutral face doesn’t mean someone is disengaged or upset; it’s just a different social norm. Leadership is expected to be structured and clear. When I show up with transparency, planning, and respect, collaboration flows more easily. Trust isn’t automatic—it’s earned. But once it’s there, it’s strong.
Another thing I’ve noticed: “no” doesn’t always mean “never.” Sometimes, an idea gets an initial “no” because the background isn’t clear or the direction feels uncertain. But when I slow down, explain the context, and offer supporting data, that “no” often becomes a collaborative “yes.” Ukrainian teams tend to value detailed planning, strong documentation, and clear requirements. They do incredible work when they’re treated as partners rather than vendors.
And about those garlic donuts—yes, they’re real. And yes, I was deeply curious. That Slack thread may have started with food, but it opened the door to something far more important: humanity. It reminded me that servant leadership, especially in distributed environments, means making space for moments that feel real. It means being willing to look beyond tasks and tickets to the people doing the work.
Remote doesn’t mean disconnected. If we lead with curiosity, empathy, and clarity, our “otherwise located” teammates can feel just as included and valued as anyone sitting next to us. The habits we build—checking in thoughtfully, rotating meeting times, walking through someone’s neighborhood on Google Maps—those are the small acts that add up to a culture of kindness.
When kindness becomes infrastructure, it scales. Across cultures, across borders, across contracts. Sometimes it even starts with lunch.
