A Series of Observations

Yesterday I was sitting in on an important meeting at work, clicking the next button on the slides so the designers could present their styles to the buyers and the planners and the generally important people without worrying about the logistics, as is essentially my only job. To help them do their jobs more efficiently and in a much more organized manner than their strictly creative minds typically can.

The huge meeting room was quite full, with most of the faces we usually see exclusively on Zoom making a guest appearance, and it was a beautiful sunny day outside that lit up the area from the large windows overlooking the river. I honestly had a far better view than most.

Yet despite the beautiful nature of our surroundings, everyone was serious and looked generally fed up with what we were doing.

Regardless, there wasn’t a seat available for me, at least not one that wouldn’t also take away from someone that really needed to be there. Since I had been sitting for most of the day already, I chose to stand off in the corner so I could see everyone and be available to help with the clothing samples while I kept track of the presentation.

No one noticed me for most of the meeting, a couple heads turning around at first to see what random presence was behind them. They would give me a small smile and turn back to their conversation.

I’m sure it won’t come as a shock, but I genuinely felt like an Observer at that moment. The natural opposite to my otherwise spotlight-loving character. It was an opportunity to really see the impact of my position (albeit small), and where I could go in the company if I really wanted to (which I don’t), as well as who surrounded me. The dynamics of who clearly does not like who, but has to play nice and speak strictly corporate, the serious looks, and the very confusing and sometimes contradicting logistics of running a massive international business.

I could almost see everyone’s timelines in front of me. Where they might have started, and how good they have been at their jobs to get where they are. Maybe some of them were like me, and got into the company at the lowest possible, most insignificant position they could get their hands on, and climbed the ladder from there.

It wasn’t until the end of the meeting, when one of those important people turned to me and said, “what are you doing over there by yourself, don’t you want to sit?” and offered me a seat at the table.

It was a kind gesture, considering the meeting had run on far longer than it needed to, and I politely refused because I knew we were close to being done. Quite frankly I didn’t believe I really had a place to sit, metaphorically.

The meeting ended, I returned to my desk, and had this thought…

Why don’t I take my seat at the tables I want to be at?

In that moment, I was very glad that I didn’t have a seat at that table, because I didn’t want to take away from someone else that really wanted or needed to be there, but all I could think about were all the tables I wish I could be sitting at.

How many times have I shrunken away from opportunities that called to me? Why haven’t I bothered to sit down with all those “important” people and take my seat at the table?

Can’t say I have a definitive reason in my case, but I still believe today’s message is important.

Take your seat at the table.

We can’t wait to be offered, because no one else is focused on us, as nice as it might be to be invited. We have to see the opportunity for what it is and go after it.

If that doesn’t work, we have to pull up the extra chair ourselves and get to work.

Seats are hard to find these days, and even harder to conjure up out of thin air like it used to be. Yet there are so many ways we can do this, in so many forms and degrees. We owe it to ourselves to try.

This has been a constant struggle in my career; if I can even call it that.

I don’t have a career per se. I have experience since the age of 10 doing a lot of random things that felt important at the time or sucked entirely. Now I’m knocking on every door in an already crowded industry, my competitive nature fired up and yet so, so, tired and defeated.

Every day I pick myself up again and keep going because I have to.

Correction, I want to.

I never want to regret not living up to my full potential, despite the many avenues I can take to get there. I never want to regret missing out on an opportunity, even if, like where I currently am, it’s something I’m looking forward to moving away from.

So I keep trying to find a seat because I want to be in those rooms. I want to make those things happen. I want to be one of those important people.

It’s likely not going to happen in the way I expect it to, because it never does. Maybe I end up becoming a career author before I ever (or never) become an editor/designer/etc. I’ve learned I don’t get too much of a choice in how things unfold, only how I react to them.

I think it’s very interesting, this point in my life. Where there are so many possibilities, and so many more days where it all feels entirely helpless. Friendships that were based in youth struggle in adulthood, taxes are due, the concept of marriage and children seem so far beyond me, and generally I am in such a different place than everyone I know.

The answer to that feeling is simple. It just because I am not meant to be doing those things right now. I am meant to be different; I always have been. I’m The Observer, The Star, I’m whatever else that may come.

All of this to say that somewhere those tables exist, and a chair will be waiting for me.

So you can bet that when the time comes I’ll be taking that seat, right where I belong.

I can only hope that you do too.

Because courage is required to take your seat at the table.