When people ask about 5 to 9 Society, their curiosity is often focused on the tangible: the dinners, the chapters, the introductions. What’s less visible is the quieter work behind it, and my personal role in shaping membership.
5 to 9 was designed with the simple belief that the quality of a network is shaped before anyone walks into a room. Membership isn’t something I treat as open access or a numbers game. It’s treated very intentionally, not for exclusivity’s sake, but out of responsibility to our existing community and to the experience we’re building together.
Curation as a choice
There are plenty of communities that are open to everyone, and that works for some professional network models. But I wasn’t interested in building something people drift in and out of, with passive participation and uneven commitment. I wanted to build something small and deliberate, where membership reflects real investment in the community.
What turns a group into a true peer network is common ground. Most of our members have led teams, reported to CEOs or boards, built companies, or operated in high-stakes environments. They know the weight of decision-making, accountability, and responsibility. But you don’t get depth without that shared experience. You end up with a room full of people speaking past one another.
Curation allows us to bring together people who share core values: respect for one another, a high bar for how they operate, and a genuine desire to keep learning. That doesn’t mean we all think the same way. Debate and disagreement are part of the experience. But to be on the same team, you have to have lived through similar pressures and earned a similar level of perspective.
My role as curator, not gatekeeper
Titles are a starting point, but they’re never the deciding factor. I’ve passed on impressive-sounding résumés where the experience didn’t match the responsibility implied, including senior titles earned after only a few short years, or at companies where titles were handed out far more generously than accountability.
What I care about most is how someone shows up: their reputation, how they’ve treated people over time, and what it feels like to have them in the room.
I do my own diligence, the same way I did when hiring senior leaders or choosing advisors and partners in past roles. I ask questions, I have conversations. When appropriate, I speak with people who’ve worked closely with a prospective member – not to collect “backdoor references,” but to understand how someone operates when stakes are real. We all build reputations through our behavior, whether we intend to or not.
Occasionally, I’ll invite someone to experience a chapter dinner as a guest. Not as a test, but as a window. How someone listens, engages, and treats others in that setting tells me far more than an application ever could. And if someone is dismissive, arrogant, or disruptive in that environment, they won’t be invited back as a member. The room matters too much for that.
I take this role seriously because the fastest way to erode a community is to compromise on character. Sometimes, stewardship of the experience means saying no, and I’m comfortable being the gatekeeper when it counts.
Why this matters to the experience
Over time, a clear pattern has emerged among our members. Whether they’re founders, operators, or advisors, they care about their work and take pride in doing it well. They come to the table curious, prepared, and genuinely interested in learning from one another.
That shared seriousness shows up in tangible ways. Members open their personal networks to one another. They make thoughtful introductions to potential hires, advisors, or subject-matter experts. They schedule follow-up conversations after dinners, share hard-earned lessons from similar moments in their careers, and offer guidance without keeping score. Trust builds outside of structure, through repeated, generous behavior.
None of this happens by accident. It works because people know the room has been thoughtfully composed, and that everyone at the table belongs there. That shared confidence lowers defenses and raises the quality of conversation.
I also make myself available to members beyond events, as a sounding board, an advisor, sometimes simply as someone who understands how isolating leadership can be. That level of openness is only possible because the foundation is strong. This is a space where people can speak honestly, without performance or posturing.
A note on responsibility
As the Society grows, my responsibility is to protect what already works.
I will continue to personally vet members and conduct reference conversations where appropriate. Growth won’t change that. Discernment doesn’t get outsourced.
There are also moments where the fit simply isn’t right and I’m transparent about that. Not every role, industry, or stage aligns with what we’re building, and that honesty serves everyone better in the long run.
Eventually, I won’t be able to host every dinner in every city myself. When that time comes, chapter leadership will be entrusted to members who understand the spirit of the Society. I’ll maintain continuity by appointing chapter leads who are exceptional hosts, thoughtful facilitators, and deeply invested in the experience around the table.
Membership at 5 to 9 isn’t accidental. It’s shaped with care because the room matters, and the people in it matter even more.
