ThoughtSpot: Behind the Scenes! *roll camera*
The title of today's blog was almost, "Really? You took the elevator to the second floor?"
I IM'd my friend about this guy who did just that. We spent the better part of 30 seconds imagining what kind of seemingly able-bodied person carrying french fries would take an elevator up one flight. (Full disclosure: I love french fries. I just had them with a salad for dinner.) We broke down the life of said mystery creature before moving on to easier targets: kids with leukemia.
And then, as I was entering the parking garage at work tonight, I instinctively rushed to get the last spot on a crowded elevator. The doors closed. I pushed 2.
***
Today I was thinking about the first time I assisted a yoga camp. I really, really wanted to be an assistant. When I went through the program as a student, the assistants I had were effortlessly cool and worked the room with compassion and grace, fostering this really great experience.
It took me over a year and a half to get my own chance. When I finally did, I was so excited and honored and determined not to f*ck up. I wanted to help create the same amazing environment that my assistants had done for me. So I freaked out when I found myself bugged out by the girl who asked a zillion questions just to get noticed. (There's one in every group.) I tried to force myself to focus on her redeeming qualities, but the more I tried the more annoyed I got.
And then at lunch maybe two days in, the other assistants, the teacher, and I were sitting around eating lunch. The lead assistant commented on the boring rhetoric coming from Pointless Question Girl. I stared at her, scared to speak. My teacher agreed with my friend. I was stunned. They said what I was thinking, but that I didn't have the balls to say. I had assumed that since they were so awesome that they couldn't possibly notice annoying human traits. (And then I started to wonder what they'd said about me...)
The point is, the experience was pivotal for me. I felt this permission to be honest. I mean, I still thought, "You're asking dumb questions," when she'd raise her hand, but it was also kinda like, "Yeah, so what?" I saw her again at future trainings, so evidently she had an alright time too. In the end, I think truth is way more compassionate than faking it anyway.
P.S. And yes, K, patchouli DOES suck.