
I had a dream I was in Paris, working at a university — a place of intellect, of ambition, of culture. It was beautiful, bustling, filled with students. I was on a break in a rooftop room, enjoying the view, when I saw something in the distance.
A storm was brewing.
One tornado. Then five. Then six. Each one forming separately, ominously, and then… merging into one. A dark, massive funnel barreling toward the city. Toward us.
I shouted, “We need to get to shelter!”
But no one moved. No one looked up from their laptops or coffee. No one believed me — or they didn’t care. I ran back into the building, down the stairs, searching for help, for someone to take it seriously, for a safe place below ground.
And that’s when I woke up.
But I didn’t really wake up.
Because that dream is still happening — every day.
We, the certified shorthand reporters, are standing on that rooftop. We see the storm. We see the six funnels: AI, ASR, ER, deregulation, corporate capture, and public apathy — converging into one existential threat to the integrity of the record. We are yelling, waving our arms, telling the legal community: This is coming. It will change everything. You need to take cover — or at least take notice.
But so many keep sipping their coffee, scrolling their screens. Moving on with their day.
The truth is, when you’re the one who sees the tornado, it’s lonely. You’re made to feel dramatic. Alarmist. Outdated. You’re told, “Don’t worry, it’s just a passing cloud.”
But we’ve been in this profession long enough to know the signs. We know the smell of ozone in the air before the first funnel touches ground. We know what happens when the record gets corrupted. When no certified transcript exists. When no appeal can be made. When someone’s life is changed forever because no one wrote down what really happened.
Leadership doesn’t always look like a podium. Sometimes it looks like a single person running downstairs, searching for shelter, trying to save everyone who won’t even look up.
That’s what we’re doing now.
And maybe — just maybe — if we keep speaking, one person at a time will start to hear it. Start to see it. And start to move. Before the tornado hits.
🌪 Seeing the Storm Before Others Do
When you work in a profession like court reporting, you get used to catching every word, every shift in tone, every undercurrent. So it’s no surprise that many of us saw the signs early: the quiet erosion of standards, the rise of artificial intelligence, the lobbyists pushing for digital recording, the abandonment of certification.
To us, the funnel clouds have been visible for years.
But leadership isn’t just about seeing what’s coming. It’s about what you do when you’re the only one who does—and no one around you seems concerned.
🛑 Leading When No One’s Listening
This is where many court reporters—and professionals in legacy industries—find themselves. We’re trying to warn legal systems, lawmakers, and even our own peers about what’s at stake:
- Justice is not served by error-ridden, uncertified transcripts.
- AI cannot replace real-time judgment, clarification, or certification.
- Once the infrastructure collapses—schools, training, credentialing bodies—we can’t rebuild it overnight.
But sounding the alarm is often a lonely job.
So what do you do when you’re the only one running toward the basement, and everyone else is still ordering coffee?
🧭 Real Leadership Lessons from the Storm
Here’s what this dream reminded me about real leadership—and what I hope others will take to heart in their own battles:
1. Leadership Is Often Silent and Unseen
You don’t need a title to lead. Sometimes leadership is:
- Speaking up at a board meeting when it’s unpopular.
- Writing the article no one else dares to write.
- Privately mentoring someone so they don’t burn out.
In the dream, I wasn’t in charge. I was just someone who saw what was coming—and ran to act. That’s leadership.
2. You Might Be Alone—At First
Real leaders are often misunderstood at the beginning. People won’t always thank you. You may be called dramatic, stubborn, or resistant to change. But foresight isn’t fearmongering.
Trust your instincts. Especially when you’ve been in the field long enough to recognize the patterns before they unfold.
3. Have a Shelter Plan
You can’t stop the storm. But you can:
- Build inner resilience: Know your “why” and revisit it often.
- Create safe spaces: Online communities, group chats, strategy sessions with allies.
- Preserve knowledge: Train, document, pass on your skills.
- Diversify your role: Use your expertise to consult, teach, or advise.
Great leaders don’t just react—they prepare.
4. Keep Sounding the Alarm—Even If It’s Just a Whisper
Sometimes the loudest act of leadership is a quiet, consistent voice. Keep telling the truth. Keep warning others. Keep sharing what’s at stake.
Eventually, someone will hear you. And then another. And another. That’s how movements begin.
5. Find (or Become) the Person Who Knows Where the Basement Is
In the dream, I kept searching for someone—anyone—who could show me where the basement was. That person didn’t appear.
Sometimes you are that person.
In moments of disruption, people are looking for calm in the chaos. Be the one who stays clear-eyed, informed, and ready to act. Be the one who builds the escape plan—or the blueprint to rebuild.
⚖️ The Stakes Are Real
In court reporting, this is about more than a profession. It’s about truth. It’s about the right to appeal. It’s about keeping the legal record from being twisted by automation, error, or cost-cutting.
We can’t afford to pretend it’s not happening.
If you’re reading this and you feel it too—the urgency, the frustration, the isolation—know this:
You’re not alone.
You might be ahead of the curve, but that doesn’t mean you’re wrong.
It means you’re a leader.
And the storm isn’t here yet—but it’s closer than most realize.
Steno Imperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.
Disclaimer
The content of this post is intended for informational and discussion purposes only. All opinions expressed herein are those of the author and are based on publicly available information, industry standards, and good-faith concerns about nonprofit governance and professional ethics. No part of this article is intended to defame, accuse, or misrepresent any individual or organization. Readers are encouraged to verify facts independently and to engage constructively in dialogue about leadership, transparency, and accountability in the court reporting profession.
- The content on this blog represents the personal opinions, observations, and commentary of the author. It is intended for editorial and journalistic purposes and is protected under the First Amendment of the United States Constitution.
- Nothing here constitutes legal advice. Readers are encouraged to review the facts and form independent conclusions.
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