Someday I’ll be able to have an international consulting company, move back to San Francisco, and learn more about art, photography—maybe even take a few dance lessons. I’ll be able to write that book, I’ll be able to take that trip to India and stay in an Ashram to finally learn how to meditate … and mostly, I’ll be able to learn about so many things, contribute and make a big difference in the world. Someday, but not today.
Today I’ll just try to get through another 200 emails, pretend I’m listening in meetings with the occasional look up from my computer, eye contact with the person speaking, and nod my head, and hopefully check off a few things on my “to do” list. OR I can learn how to work differently instead of working harder, and I can listen to that person speaking and perhaps even coach him to not read his slides; Someday can be today—filled with lessons and opportunities to contribute
I’ll share a recent experience of this.
I was leading an all day offsite with the sales team a few weeks ago. An hour before the meeting was supposed to start, Stu, the head of sales, kept changing the agenda, added a few things and took some discussions out. His cell phone rang. He let me know that due to an unexpected customer visit, he would have to step away for a few hours during the day—how perfect since the time he needed to step out was the time in which he was supposed to talk about his expectations of the team and how they could work more effectively together—this was not how the morning of a perfect offsite was supposed to go.
As I walked back to my office trying to take deep breaths and figure out how I could make the day work with this big change, I suddenly felt the ground move from under my feet. I tripped and fell to the floor. I live in California, but this was no earthquake. I looked down and realized that the heel of my shoe had completely broken off! And Stu was right behind me. I knew he was thinking, “What kind of flaky, clumsy facilitator is leading our session today?” I laughed it off, and quickly ran to Lynn’s office to help me rectify the situation. Lynn and I could always count on each other to be there when we needed support. She pulled out a large roll of silver duct tape and attached the heel back onto the shoe. Great solution, but I didn’t think that was going to work. She offered me her shoes for the day—which happened to be loafers—not quite the look I was going for—oh, and they were a size bigger, but they would look better than a pink pump with a flower on top and silver duct tape on the bottom.
As we were laughing about the situation, she saw the look of panic on my face. That look of “If all this has gone wrong already, the rest of the day will likely go the same way too.” She proceeded to say, “Don’t lead with your hips today.” Little did I know the wisdom in that statement. She went on to explain that one of her friends seemed to have this amazing life—everything we think of—a supportive husband, great kids, fulfilling career, but seemingly big hips. (She really didn’t!) She complained about them all the time. She would weave her hips into every conversation, making sure everyone knew how unhappy she was with them—so whenever people think of this woman, they don’t think of all the great things about her and her life, but about these made up big hips she brought up in every conversation. So, Lynn, in all her wisdom, said, don’t let your hips lead the session today. Don’t focus on all that has gone wrong because if you do, more WILL go wrong. I loved it! I completely snapped out of it, strapped on her shoes like I was entering into a special race, and slowly waddled to the conference room in my new big shoes and my newfound wisdom.
I tripped over the flip chart as I entered the room since my shoes seemed to be two steps ahead of me. Everyone was already in the room and saw me do this. An image of me with big hips, big shoes facilitating a very bad day flashed before me. “Don’t lead with your hips,” I heard my friend’s voice say to me as I walked to the front of the room. I turned around, kicked off my shoes, shared the story of what happened, and everyone laughed. I could feel the room relax, and while we didn’t stick to any agenda, the day went exactly as it was supposed to. Great discussions, open sharing, and stronger connections were created. It was a great day. Someday was that day—filled with lessons and opportunities to contribute.
We all have stories like this. Someday can be today—filled with lessons from different types of teachers—practicing patience and understanding with the twenty-five-year-old engineering manager with the nose ring who tells me he hates people and just wants to code; the person driving twenty-five miles per hour in front of you on the highway who is really just there to remind you to slow down; Someday can be today—also filled with students waiting to learn—Stu, the head of sales who told me at the end of the day that he was reminded of the importance of going with the flow just like demonstrated when I facilitated with bare feet in front of the room, or the twenty-something who told me how much it meant to her that I took the time to talk with her about her career. Teachers are everywhere waiting for us to listen and students are all around us waiting for us to share.
Start your day with questions like, “How can I make a difference and contribute to others today?” Reflect on your day with questions like, “What lessons have I learned today?” As I carried out my new pair of shoes from the store, I reflected on my two recent lessons: Don’t lead with my hips and always buy shoes at Nordstrom’s because you can return them if a heel breaks and get a brand new pair!