When I was young, my poor mother wasted a lot of good money on swimming lessons for me. I would reach a basic level of achievement, and then, out of fear, would never complete the classes. I did this time and time again and by the time I reached high school, I was a non-swimmer. My freshman gym teacher was a tiny sparkplug of a woman, Mrs. Hammack. That poor woman tried and tried to teach me in a kind manner, but when it came right down to it, she was getting nowhere, fast. One day, I think my being scared finally broke her. She knew, I knew how to swim, but I couldn’t do it, better yet, I wouldn’t do it, out of fear. I make this statement to justify what she did to me, no harm, no foul.
Everyone else in the class was doing swimmingly well, ha! The semester was nearing its end and it was time to sink or swim, double ha! Mrs. Hammack stood at the edge of the pool and told me to jump in. I was completely terrified, but I am not one to disobey authority. I was filled with doubt and fear, I was so very, very scared, but I jumped in. I was floundering, gasping for air, as I bobbed up and down in the water. I did a little doggy paddle, desperate to keep my head above water and that’s when I could finally hear her, screaming at the top of her lungs, “Swim! Swim! Swim!” and magically, I did. The next year, I took a life saving class. I literally almost drowned one day, but I didn’t. I passed the class, just barely, thanks to book work being part of the grade, but I passed. To this day, I’m not a strong swimmer, but I can swim thanks to choosing to jump in, even though I was scared.
I’m usually a work horse, working many more hours than my set salary position compensates me for. No one forces me to do so, I choose to work as many hours as it takes to get the job done well. I’m not a “good enough” kind of person. If something is worth doing, it’s worth doing well and if that means I work long hours, sobeit. Over the past couple of months, I noticed that I was completing my work, to the best of my ability, in less time. I would approach the end of my shift and look around in confusion, what was I forgetting to do? The answer was, nothing. After two years of working in this location, I had been able to build a well-oiled machine, everyone doing their part, and doing it well. It was comfortable and satisfying to know that I could work closer to a 40-hour week and not drop the ball. I could leave with confidence that all the plates were spinning and there was no fear of breakage, if I would to go.
A few weeks ago, my boss came in for an unexpected visit. I was concerned and told him so because he doesn’t come in just to say “Hi!”. Was I in trouble? Was I going to be written up for one thing or another? I was consumed with fear when he asked to see me in the office and closed the door. What did I do? What didn’t I do? I sat there with my head bowed down, looking at him over the top of my glasses waiting for the fatal blow, that surprisingly, didn’t come. Instead, I was told about an opportunity for me to take over leadership in a store that has soaring sales and is located way closer to my home. I sat there in disbelief, tears began to well up in my eyes, I didn’t think it would even be possible for me to leave a juice bar store, considering how much work I had been doing to create recipes for it. I had heard that the manager of the store in question was going to retire, but I didn’t inquire because of that reason alone.
I was told that it was their hope that I would continue the momentum that store has been experiencing. I think I was in shock, because I didn’t respond, instead I looked around the room in disbelief and uncertainty. How could I do this? How could I leave a nice safe, stable, well-oiled machine for the unknown? My boss thought it was a no-brainer and was dumbfounded when I asked if I could think about it. He gave me 24-hours and permission to speak to my former assistant who is currently working at that store. I was worried that I wouldn’t be a good fit. What if she didn’t want to work with me again? Fear, doubt and self-loathing were engulfing me. I told him that I was 90% certain that I would say yes, but I wanted to sleep on it.
After he left, I attended a juice bar Webex meeting, I was now 95% certain I would say yes. Many moons ago, I left foodservice for a reason and this meeting reminded me of that. I spoke with my former assistant and became 98% certain. I slept well that night, no nightmares of falling into a pit of despair over inevitable failure, no scary monsters chasing me and, in the morning, I officially accepted the offer with 100% confidence, but I was sad. I didn’t want to leave this team, it’s a good team, a strong team, a team I helped build. I wished I could take the with me, but that would be impossible.
Before I had arrived at this store, it had 10 different managers in 10 years. I had lasted 2 years, a new record. The first year was rough. I was continually beating myself up for not doing better, for not being faster with the changes I wanted to make. The president of the company would remind me that Rome wasn’t built in a day and that it takes 6 months to a year for a manager to make a store their own. He was right, after the first year, I began to soar and I chiseled out the beauty she has become. I walk the aisles, exclaiming out loud, “What a beautiful store!” I have trained my team to follow the rules of good merchandising and placing solid orders, “I can’t sell holes.” is one of my favorite mottos.
I like to think that because of the tremendous amount of managerial turnover, my team was not surprised or emotional when I told them that I was leaving. I was the one that had to fight back the tears, but I’ve always been a big crybaby. In the two weeks before my departure, I made certain that I was leaving the books clean, everything in order, and taking with me all that I truly wanted, including the items I use for special displays like Veronica, my female torso that’s dressed like a team member and my 3 Styrofoam heads that are decoupaged with old store flyers that I fondly refer to as, “the girls”. Oddly, every day I was leaving on time, nothing left unfinished, it was becoming quite evident that my work was done here.
A few days before my departure, I had a run in with a customer. I wanted to speak my mind, but I kept reminding myself, that I need this job. Instead, I just kept repeating, “Yes, sir. Yes, sir.” until his lecture was over. I told the team that I was taking the trash out and I wasn’t certain that I would return. In all honesty, if I had had my purse with me, I might not have. I would have walked around to the front and left without saying a word, but I didn’t. I didn’t have a way to cleanly escape, so instead, I found a spot next to the dumpster, I sat down and prayed.
I prayed for guidance and the strength to follow that path that has been chosen for me. I said the few prayers that I know over and over again and then finally, just like the song, I asked Him to take the wheel. I calmed down enough to go back into the store, but I was still angry and frustrated. When I’m like that, I clean. I began to go through boxes, leaving no stone unturned to made certain I had everything I wanted to go with me. I made certain that my work was done for the day and then I left, no one being the wiser about how truly angry I was.
I prayed and prayed and prayed as I drove home, my long commute that I had done at least 5 times a week for the past 2 years. Just like the postal service, through snow, rain, heat, or gloom of night, I made that journey not only for a paycheck, but because I truly love what I do. That night, I saw a Facebook posting that resonated with me. It said that there will be a time when I need to choose between the life I know and the life I want and that it is very important that I choose the one that scares me. It was then that I realized, I wasn’t angry, I was scared and that I was doing exactly what I was meant to do. It was time go, my work was done here, and I was leaving the team and the store, better for having been there.
Yesterday, I left with the final objects I deemed necessary to enter the next chapter of my leadership role. Appropriately so, the song, “Rock Lobster” was playing as I made my departure. Of course, I stopped to do a little dance, everybody knows that I’m an 80’s girl at heart. Everybody knows, that I’m Groovy Gail, not the ogre they thought I was when they first met me. I’m strong, passionate, and fearless when it comes to taking care of my store, my team, my family. Having been a former Boy Scout leader, I believed that I was leaving no trace. With the removal of my office décor, nothing of my existence was left behind. Or, was it? I now realize that I am leaving an indelible mark, my loud boisterous laughter, my larger-than-life personality, my “intimidating” glare and stance, and my theatrical way of making a memorable point, will not be forgotten anytime soon.
Are you scared? Good. That’s the whole point. You will not forget me, nor my lessons taught, and in the end, the memory of me, will make you smile.
#thelieswechoosetolivewith
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