A Story...

A few months ago, my laptop was outdated (to say the least) and because I was getting back into writing I wanted to “celebrate” my return with a little welcome back present to myself. So I went to Best Buy. I meandered through the aisles, vacillating, trying to decide on which device I needed to upgrade my life. Do I just get a tablet? Or do I get a laptop? Or a 2in1. Or a desktop. Wait, not a desktop. Do I go mac or PC? Known brand or lesser known? I knew I wanted something lightweight with a keyboard. Do I get the cheap one for now and reward myself later when I start making money? Or do I go all in now with the best device on the market? It was kind of like when I bought new, expensive running shoes with the hopes that I’d become a runner. That worked for a little while. Then I got distracted. But, I think I got my money’s worth.

After organizing my thoughts and answering a few questions, the tech guy tried to sell me a Dell laptop. I wasn’t feeling that. My friend Kim had a Dell back in college. Just the name sounded too old for what I was trying to do. Something new. Fresh.  I asked him about tablets. He said if I’m trying to “work”, I should go with a laptop. I felt judged. In a condescending tone he said, “tablets are for “leisure,” but he pronounced it like, “LEH-szhure” which irked my nerves and I couldn't really focus on what he was saying after that.

My mind wandered… where is he from? Just pronounce it like normal people. You work at Best Buy. Ok, who’s being judgemental now? This guy could be like Lawrence from Insecure--just getting his life together. But look at his glasses. He’s not fine like Lawrence. This might be his thing. Nothing’s wrong with working at Best Buy…

Next thing I knew he was saying, “ok well, if you need more information, I’ll be right over there.” I thanked him and moved on to look at the Surface pros. Those things are niiiiiiice! And expensive!

Out of the corner of my eye I see a lady making her way over to me. She, too worked for Best Buy. I thought she was coming over to tell me about this sleek tablet that has the power of a PC but nooooo… She said, “I see you’re looking for a laptop but girl, I came over here to look at your hair! What do you use??”

Pause

Mam

I gathered myself on the inside so as not to show I was annoyed on the outside.

I’m all about helping a sister out. And I did. I told her about embracing her natural hair texture and not comparing it to others’. “My hair is naturally curly so products don’t ‘make’ it ‘do’, products keep my hair from frizzing.” I gave her a list of products that I use and told her not to be cheap. “By the time you experiment with the cheap stuff, you will have paid for the quality products several times.” And, I closed with, “sometimes it’s just a matter of getting used to seeing yourself in a different way and embracing what you see. It’s all beautiful.”

I get it. It’s hard out here for a people trying to embrace who they are. And when you see someone that seems to be pulling it off, you have questions. HOWEVER.

She missed a sale that day. I would have been more interested in helping this sister out with a commission. She didn’t ask if I needed additional help. She didn’t offer any expertise on what she knew. She didn’t seek out my need before hers.

And I got to thinking. How often have I missed a ‘sale’ because I was in a certain place to help someone else but, instead I only tried to help myself? Sometimes, I forget to connect with why I am here. Whether here is at work, with my family, friends. Target. I always forget why I’m at Target.

The primary reason I believe I am here on this earth is to help others. And, I believe that by helping others, I, too will be taken care of. The things I seek to glean from others, whether it be knowledge, understanding, promotion… these are all bridges that can lead to me getting access to their heart. Common ground on which to stand. Help them do what, though? Well, that’s to be determined in some cases but in most, like my job and personal relationships, I’m here to help move things forward. Move the needle. Plant seeds in the the soil. Add the water. Work the land.

It’s perfectly acceptable to admire others and seek knowledge about who they are and how they came to be. But what would this world look like if we took that a step further? What if we got what we needed and also made sure the other person had what they needed from our encounter with them?

We’ve all stumbled upon encounters and conversations with strangers and friends alike where we left that place knowing we made a difference in their lives. We’ve also walked away from the same types of situations having been helped unexpectedly because the other person went out of their way to put our needs before theirs.

I guess I could have asked the lady to help me with what I came to Best Buy for… because sometimes you have not because you ask not but, that wasn’t my position. It was hers. And I left there without a laptop.

In My Write Mind

I am thankful for being in my write mind. I haven’t written a complete body of work in at least a year. But, I’m a writer. There are so many stories that need telling. Mine. Others. Truth. Fiction. Hybrid. But, I’ve been blocked. Not for lack of inspiration but lack of focus.

I started a new job three months before the first of this year. I had high hopes for myself in this new position and organization, but within those three months, I decided that I was not going to be in this position long and by March I was planning my exit strategy.

It’s kind of crazy because it took me a year to find this job. Almost. I interviewed for a different position within this organization but I didn’t get it. When the recruiter called to tell me that they were moving on with other candidates, she told me there was a different position open that she wanted me to consider. A position that was, now that i think of it, lateral from the one I was leaving but paying more than I was making at the time.

I misunderstood my value.

This was in parallel with the job I had at the time. They too were offering me a position.

After spending 6 years with my previous employer, I somehow felt like my value was tied to my salary. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes it is. Employers pay for what they want. But, I’d moved up in that company twice and while that movement made me attractive to other employers it wasn’t enough where I was. From the outside looking in, employers wanted to know how went from answering phones as an office assistant to raising almost half a million dollars per year.

But within the company, they were convinced things could be better. After working in a position for 3 years, having been thrown into the sink or swim situation with minimal training and even less support, there was some restructuring under new leadership. I was to be moved into a different, new position so they could hire someone more qualified to do the job I’d been keeping afloat. Instead of seeing it as an opportunity for growth, I was insulted. Hurt. I wanted them to train me. Pay me. Don’t move me. Don’t… take this away from me.

I felt like what they were offering me was beneath me. I wanted to do more of what I had been doing. Learn more of what I already knew. I wanted more respect. More power. More money. So I sought out all those things in a new position with a new company and ended up only getting more money. For some, that’s enough but for me...

So here I am. A year later in the “new” position. What I’ve learned here are things I probably would have or could have learned right where I was and been in a better headspace. And, it hasn’t been bad, I just haven’t been my best. I haven’t been my best in a while.

I had a conversation with an… old friend… He asked me if I’d been writing lately. My first thought was, “do text messages count?” Because, I’ve been writing books on my iPhone lately, going on and on to my friends about a relationship that ended.

It got me thinking. His question. I’ve been talking a lot. I’ve been thinking a lot. Feeling disconnected. Not feeling like I’m at home or at peace. Feeling like my voice is dwindling. Not feeling like… me. I look like me. My exterior

I’m thirty five years old. Black. Female. I wear my hair in it’s naturally curly state most of the time and get the most compliments when it needs to be washed or trimmed. I was born in New Orleans at Charity Hospital which is no longer running thanks to Hurricane Katrina. I am an evacuee. My family left the day before the storm hit. I moved to Atlanta six months later and still haven’t quite shaken that displaced feeling although I’ve lived in Atlanta for almost 11 years now.

I have been writing for work--making the case for support to donors and prospective donors for my organization. But I have not been writing for me. I haven’t been writing for those like me who need me to write for them.

The more time I spend, not using this gift that haunts me, these feelings I can’t quite articulate to people around me, these tears that always break through at the most inconvenient times, this endless cycle of me looking for answers in other people, jobs, hair styles, ice cream and cities…

It’ll take me out and I’ll leave this earth full of the words, feelings, and ideas that were meant to be expressed.

However, I don’t regret the choices I made. I see the growth but I went about it the hard way, I think.

The definition of “here” is relative. Here at the moment is the mind frame. Here back then meant the company and city.

Something about this place I was in was not right for me.