Chris Rollins turns everyday leadership into lasting ripple effects. With 15 years of experience empowering teams and shaping organizational culture—Chris skyrocketed through corporate America to become a top HR exec by the age of 30. His unique Ripple Effect Leadership™ framework—inspired by his journey of self-discovery and one particularly fateful conversation with his dad—calls leaders to foster connection and inspire action across their organizations. He’s on a mission to bring a more human approach to work that works for every human.

Speaking to diverse audiences across industries, Chris delivers an emotionally charged experience that leaves people rethinking the way they connect with colleagues. His message is clear: Start a ripple. Whether a leader or a team member, everyone can “be the pebble” by taking meaningful action, no matter how small, to create high-trust cultures that drive speed, momentum and scale. 

Trusted by top brands across finance, insurance, retail and tech like Raymond James, Marsh McLennan, IKEA, Oracle and more, Chris Rollins is a fresh voice for leaders ready to break down barriers and inspire lasting change. His talks have garnered a 98% rating with diverse audiences ranging from local auto repair shop owners to global Fortune 50 companies.

The Ripple Effect of One Small Wave   

When you’re ten years old, you’re fearless. You don’t think about what the people around you will say or could whisper behind your back. You live in the present with an enthusiasm that spills over and out, like water in a pool after a heavy rain. And sometimes, without even knowing it, that childlike, unguarded optimism creates a ripple effect you never saw coming. We all talk about “having an impact.” It’s the kind of phrase that gets tossed around a lot in meetings, at funerals, in classrooms, at parties. But as we age, we lose the fearlessness of youth and we start dealing with heavy responsibilities, like mortgage payments. We become more risk-averse, more self-focused, and less likely to do the things that will leave that impact. The thing is, you don’t have to solve world hunger or foster world peace to have a Ripple Effect. It only takes a tiny pebble to make dozens of concentric ripples in a pond. Sometimes, your pebble can come from the simplest of gestures. Like rushing to the front of the stands to cheer on your favorite team on a hot summer day in Connecticut.

Like most people, I did the usual route—went to college, got a psychology degree, but instead of becoming a therapist or working in Human Resources, I went into sales. For three years, I did everything from cold calls to product demos, chasing monthly sales targets that always seemed just out of reach. I had a few great breakthrough months that would keep me going, but eventually, I realized that selling software wasn’t my zone of genius. It wasn’t even something I liked doing. It certainly wasn’t anything that was going to leave an impact on other people. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, but I knew I was really good at building relationships and earning my clients’ trust. I moved into account management, then took on several leadership roles overseeing Onboarding and Customer Success, eventually reaching the executive table as the SVP of Organizational Development.

But I still didn’t feel like I was doing the right thing—my thing, the thing that would leave other people changed. That dissatisfaction only grew when our company went through a merger and new leadership took over. Almost overnight, I could see how one person’s approach could shift the entire dynamic of a workplace. Moods shifted, morale dropped, productivity slowed. The happy, cooperative, supportive environment we had coexisted within had disappeared, almost like someone had swept it out the door with a broom. I had a choice: I could stay, collect a regular paycheck, and be miserable, or I could take the leap into working for myself. It was a pretty terrifying crossroads. After all, I was an adult now, with a mortgage and a 401k. Jumping into entrepreneurship was a scary thought.

But where had taking the safe route gotten me thus far? To a job I hated, working for a boss who made me dread the workplace. I thought of that fearless kid I had once been. What would he do? Would he be brave enough to walk out that door and start making waves? When I was ten, I took a forty-five-minute bus ride from New York to Connecticut to watch the Bridgeport Bluefish play at Harbor Yard. They were a minor league team, but to me, they were rockstars. Well, sort of rockstars, because the Bridgeport Bluefish were losing by the bottom of the seventh inning. I sat in the stands with my friends, eating popcorn and hot dogs, and watched the dejected faces of the team members as they filed back into the dugout. That deep into the game, scoring enough runs to win seemed impossible.

The big screen over the field blared out a message: Do the Wave. Yes! That was a great idea. I looked around me, waiting for someone to be the first to stand up, wave their arms, and begin a stadium-wide rally for the Bridgeport Bluefish. No one moved. No one wanted to be the first. No one even seemed to care. Maybe they were scared of being the lone person waving, or terrified other people would laugh, or worried that leading the crowd would result in failure. I was ten. I didn’t think about any of those things. I just wanted to see my team win.

I dashed down to the front of my section and turned to the left half of seats. “Okay, everybody,” I said, “we’re gonna start with this group right here and do the wave.” The adults stared at this short, exuberant, optimistic fourth-grader trying to organize a group effort. I was barely tall enough to see past the first few rows. But I knew, if I didn’t do something to make a difference, the team would lose. “One. Two. Three!” I called out and raised my arms. No one moved. They just went on munching their popcorn in the summer heat. I was undaunted. “Come on, everybody! We’re gonna do the wave. We’re gonna start with this group right here,” I repeated. Maybe they hadn’t heard me the first time. “One. Two. Three!”

Six people stood up and did a little wave. That was it. Just six. It would have been so easy to quit right then. I had humiliated myself enough for one afternoon. I’m sure my friends were laughing at me, struggling to get these adults to show some enthusiasm. I can’t explain what made me try again. It was some sort of bone-deep need to make a difference for the Bridgeport Bluefish, to make them believe in themselves as much as I did. “Let’s do the wave!” I called out again. “One, two, three!” I waved my arms a third time. This time, a couple dozen people stood up and did the wave with me. And then… My little wave died a quick death in section 104.

This would have been a good time to quit. Any rational person could have seen that. This was a stadium that held 5,000 people and my success rate at that moment was .004. If I’d been batting for the Bluefish, they would have cut me from the roster by now. But I knew that if I could get twenty people on board, I could get fifty. Maybe even a hundred. I could show the Bluefish I believed in them. That we all believed in them. I started running back and forth in front of the section, a game show host revving up the crowd. “Get ready, because I’m going to need you. And I’m going to need you, too.” I pointed at random people. “We’re going to do this. We’re all going to do the wave together. You ready?” I stopped in the middle of the section, planted my feet, and said, “One! Two! Three!” I raised my arms with all my might and stretched them to the sky.

A second of silence passed and then, my whole section stood up. The next section stood up. And so did the one after that, and the one after that, spreading enthusiasm across the stadium in a ripple that grew wider and wider by the second. I have no idea if the Bridgeport Bluefish won the game that day. I’d like to think they did after thousands of people cheered them on, but I really didn’t pay attention after I watched that wave flow through the crowd. What really amazed me was seeing 5,000 strangers working together to create something bigger than themselves, and all because ten-year-old me refused to give up on leading them into change. That moment stayed with me and became part of the catalyst that made me jump off the 9-to-5 ship and into my own waters.

I left my job and started Ripple Effect Leadership, a company committed to creating a more human approach to work that works for every human. Through keynote speaking and corporate workshops, I help organizations develop high-trust, inclusive, human-centered teams that move forward faster while bringing everyone along. I want to help leaders understand that their actions and behaviors have far-reaching consequences, even when not immediately apparent. And those consequences can work in both directions (positive or negative). By adopting a Ripple Effect Mindset, leaders can create positive changes that enhance trust, foster inclusivity, and lead to more engaged and committed teams. It’s about moving forward together and ensuring everyone is part of the journey.