Simon Yoxon-Grant is president and CEO of LanguageLine Solutions.
I keep a photo on my phone. It’s of one of our team members kneeling to hug a little girl, maybe four or five years old, who had just crossed the border from Ukraine. She was an orphan, evacuated from Dnipro. The child clings to her like she’s the first safe thing she’s seen in days.
That photo captures what I witnessed in the earliest days of the war: grace under pressure. The kind of clarity that only crisis brings.
Pressure, as painful as it is, reveals what matters. It clarifies priorities. It humbles the heart and connects us to our purpose. In that sense, pressure is not just a burden. It can be a privilege.
In early 2022, as the world speculated about whether Russia would invade Ukraine, those of us closer to the region already felt the ground shifting. At TLScontact, where I was CEO from 2019-2024, we were operating a visa processing center in Kyiv, supporting our government partners. I was in regular contact with our team in Ukraine, trying to prepare for what might come next.
I remember one call in particular with our Kyiv country manager, Igor. He was a calm and thoughtful leader I respected immensely.
Igor reassured us. “The conflict has been in the Donbass since 2014,” he said. “I don’t think Russia will mount a full attack.”
Then, on February 24, it happened. Full-scale invasion. Tanks. Missiles. Airstrikes.
The morning after, we finally reached Igor. He and his family had taken shelter in our Kyiv office. It was the safest place they could think of.
From that moment, everything changed.
We pulled together a global task force. Our first objective: locate all 36 TLScontact employees in Ukraine. Communications were patchy, infrastructure strained. But through Igor’s leadership and our team’s resilience, we found them all. Alive.
Our focus became threefold: Keep our people safe; support those who needed to relocate; and continue serving our government partners.
We had set up a secondary site in Lviv on short notice, and for a while, some of our team relocated there to help process refugees. But when that became too dangerous, our newly opened site in Poland became the only viable option for visa services.
I traveled to Poland during the early days. What I saw there changed me.
Refugees, mostly women and children, stood in long queues with nothing but a bag, maybe a coat. Their faces were lined with exhaustion and disbelief. The need was overwhelming.
Then came the call: 52 orphaned children had just crossed the border after escaping eastern Ukraine. They needed help navigating an urgent, complex visa process.
Two of our team members immediately volunteered. They had only just crossed the border themselves.
Think about that. They had fled war, left behind their homes, their families. But the moment they arrived in Poland, they asked, “How can I help?” And when this request came in, they raised their hands again.
They traveled with government officials for hours, met the children, and spent the day gently guiding them through the process. They returned late that night carrying stories I will never forget. They were tales of terror, of kindness, of a child reaching out to hold a hand.
And that photo.
That image reminds me: in the most uncertain moments, we are granted the clearest view of who we are.
Even as we helped evacuate staff, securing emergency visas and rerouting biometric equipment, some team members chose to stay. Some had elderly parents who couldn’t travel. Others, like Igor and his deputy Dmytro, were men of fighting age who couldn’t legally leave.
We fought hard for them, eventually securing the permissions they needed. But they didn’t go far. They got their families to safety, then turned back to continue helping others. Still leading. Still serving.
Throughout the crisis, our people showed a kind of courage that’s hard to explain. Colleagues from around the world volunteered to help, leaving families behind. Everyone focused on what mattered.
One message I received during those early days has never left me. It came from a colleague still in Kyiv:
“The situation is tense. I spent all these nights with my relatives at the bomb shelter. Indeed scary. I was thinking of leaving Kyiv but I have my mum and grandma here with me and I know they are not ready to leave. Hoping and praying for peace in our country.”
That clarity of love and responsibility taught me about true leadership.
In 2023, we were honored by a major government with an award for our partnership during the Ukraine crisis. The real recognition belongs to our team in Ukraine who chose not to look away and those who stepped in to help when it was needed most.
Pressure didn’t break us. It revealed us.
I saw leadership in bomb shelters. Bravery behind biometric counters. Hope in the eyes of a child holding on to a stranger.
It was the hardest time of my professional life. But it clarified everything.
Our presence.
Our purpose.
Our people.
And I will carry it with me always.