Who Am I, Jens Heitland

I wasn’t always the innovative leader, entrepreneur, and voice for CEO legacy that you see today. My story started on the cold, dusty construction sites of Gütersloh, Germany, where I worked as an electrician. It was my first job, hands-on, unforgiving, and deeply human. I got the job because, during the renovation of our family home in the mid-90s, I was mesmerized by the invisible power of electricity. I watched the electricians work, and I thought, This is fascinating. You can’t see it, but it works. I want to learn that.

My father was well known as the local pastor, and perhaps his reputation helped my application, but the rest, I earned. Those first years taught me more than just wiring buildings. They taught me how people behave under pressure, how some lead with empathy and others with fear. I still remember the day I was unfairly blamed for following an instruction that turned out to be wrong. I was just 17, humiliated in front of the company owner. I was furious, but it shaped something in me: a deep commitment to accountability and a growing curiosity about leadership.

Even then, I began observing the people who led me, both the good ones, like Maik, who treated young workers with dignity and fairness, and the "little dictators" who led with fear, manipulation, or ego. I didn’t know it then, but I was already beginning to study leadership as a human behavior, not just a job title.

Then came the first major turning point: I was made redundant.

I still remember the day in 2004. It was a Friday, right before my annual visit to Spiekeroog. On this small, remote island, I had once completed my nine-month civil service, helping low-income families take holidays they could otherwise never afford. That island became my sanctuary. I still go back every year, except during the lockdowns.

On the day I was let go, I went to the island. On that ferry ride, I started reaching out to everyone I knew. I landed a new job within a week, but I also applied for many more, casting a wide net, including one to Deutsche Bank.

A few months later, I worked as a technician at Deutsche Bank, driving a van to service their branches. One day, I was watering plants; the next, I was fixing HVAC units or replacing lightbulbs. It was a whole new world, corporate, polished, and structured, but it taught me so much. I became the quiet observer, the "fly on the wall," allowed into every corner of the organization. I watched how executives treated their staff. I noticed who said hello and who didn’t even look up.

The experience was like working in a human behavior laboratory. The leaders who stood out were not always the loudest or most powerful. They were the ones who saw me, the young guy with a watering can, and treated me with respect. That’s when I started devouring leadership, psychology, and human behavior books. I often talked with my father, drawing on his insights from working with communities. The seed had been planted: I didn’t just want to lead. I tried to understand what made a great leader.

Over time, I moved up. I helped roll out new property management tools and processes. I took on more responsibility, leading without a title. I often found myself being the youngest person in the room, full of energy, sometimes too much of it. I had to learn to pace myself, to lead with awareness, and to respect where others were on their journey.

That mindset carried me through a series of leaps: from Deutsche Bank to IKEA, from local facility manager in Ulm to Regional Manager of 11 stores, to national roles at IKEA Germany HQ. However, the breakthrough came with my first international project: The Global Sustainable IKEA Store Project.

At age 32, I led a cross-functional global team, reporting to top executives and presenting to the IKEA Group Board. That led me to Russia, first as Head of Sustainability, then also leading Innovation & Customer Experience. Eventually, I moved to Sweden to become the Global Head of Innovation for IKEA Centres.

I led teams across countries and cultures, often without direct authority. I had to learn cultural empathy, matrix leadership, and how to build trust across time zones. My mentors at IKEA taught me something priceless: It’s all about the human.

As an engineer, that wasn’t always easy to accept. But I learned to lead by inspiring, educating, and empowering others. I saw firsthand that when people feel safe and supported, they create brilliant ideas. When they don’t, they simply comply.

And then came the train.

It was 2019. I was on a train from Copenhagen to Malmö, listening to Seth Godin, when it hit me: I’m just collecting dots. I need to connect them. I had lived in several countries, led global innovation, and worked at the highest levels, but I was still dependent. I remembered the feeling from 2004. I said to myself, "No more."

So I left.

I joined FJORD, Accenture's design and innovation arm, to learn the consulting world. But I also started building something of my own: Heitland Innovation, which is focused on human innovation ecosystems. My belief was simple: If you want to innovate a product, project, or company, it has to start with people and culture.

Then, in 2021, everything changed again.

My father passed away.

After the funeral, I sat with my daughter and listened to old radio clips of him sharing stories from the early 2000s. His voice was calm, wise, full of depth. But that was all we had. A few recordings. The rest? Gone. Memories fading.

I thought: Damn. There’s so much to learn from him, and we have nothing.

That moment hit me harder than anything in my career. It sparked a new mission. I began recording myself, daily vlogs, video reflections, learning how to share ideas so others could benefit. I studied lighting, editing, social platforms, and storytelling formats, not to become an influencer, but to help people learn. To capture thought patterns, values, and leadership wisdom before they disappear.

That’s how Heitland Media Group was born.

Today, I work only with CEOs. Not because of status, but because they set the tone for everything that happens in an organization. They often hide behind their brands, unsure whether anyone wants to hear their story. They fear it may sound like vanity. But I believe the opposite:

When CEOs share their real story, they become thought leaders people look up to and learn from, not just employees and peers, but friends, families, and future generations.

I help them make their experience visible. Their influence is tangible. Their legacy is real.

Because when a leader’s voice is amplified with purpose, it doesn’t just inspire.

It lasts.

That’s who I am. That’s why I’m here. To make sure no powerful story gets left untold.

If that mission speaks to you, maybe we’re meant to build something that lasts.