I am a little bossy.
I'm ok with that.
I went to a private Pre-K/Kindergarten at the Baptist Church, because the public schools were just rolling out Kindergarten, and my parents decided to stick with the place that everyone was sending their kids before Roswell Elementary had Kindergarten. And Pre-K was a relatively new idea. It was the 70s, things were weird.
Anyway, one year I didn't like the part I was assigned for the Christmas pageant - I was, I believe, set to be a Bell. Basically, the vast cattle call of kids were given fun assignments like bell, star, candle, angel, tree. Which basically meant wearing a solid color with some tinsel thrown on it for decor.
I am not a Bell. I'm not even a Star. I'm a STAR. If you weren't one of the inanimate objects, you might get to be a fairy tale/storybook character, or Santa, or a Nativity scene member. It was a very inclusive pageant. And I wanted a named role. So, I brought this to my teacher who pointed out gently that most of the people in our classroom were going to be Bells. I asked if there was anyone I could speak to who knew more about this. She referred me to our Principal.
I do remember going into the Principal's office to speak with her on the matter, and while I don't remember exactly what was said, I ended up that year as a bell. The next year, I had my mother make me a Princess costume for Halloween, which resulted in a role in the pageant that year as the Princess from Rumpelstiltskin. Yeah, they dug deep for that one. My friend Natalie was the Girl With The Golden Apples. Truthfully, if you wanted a named role, you just needed to be able to dress for the job you wanted. Isn't that always the way?
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| I had silky, straight blonder hair back in the day. Do I look like I should be a bell? Please. |
In third grade, again, around the holidays, our lovely teacher, Mrs. Roberts (now at Roswell Elementary) was teaching us the Hawaiian 12 Days of Christmas. I loved her, but music was not her forte, and I asked her if she just wanted me to take over.
You can imagine how popular and beloved I was. Honestly, these stories are recounted with amusement, but also some chagrin. What can I say - when I think I can do something better, I want the chance to run with it.
In my grown-person life, I remember watching this poor woman give a breakfast speech at a conference. I believe she was a last minute replacement for her colleague. The material was interesting as hell, but she was a terrible presenter. I remember thinking that I could take that same presentation, spend 30 minutes learning it, and knock that presentation out of the park.
If there's something I'm confident doing, I'll do it. Even if I'm not confident, I'll give it my best try. Back when I first started learning the Occupational Health Clinic software two jobs ago, I was only trained to go in and do back-up. They had brought in three brand new hires to do the bulk of the training. Only, for whatever reason, these women all balked at the idea of needing to go out and actually do the training they were hired for. And one day, our manager put out the request that a clinic needed billing training. And you would have thought these gals were being asked to hand-deliver a basket of poisonous snakes. The wailing, rending of garments, gnashing of teeth. Finally, I stepped up and said, "Fine, I'll take it."
Was it successful? In that I survived and nobody did a lot of complaining, sure. Was I good at it? No, no I was not. But I wasn't going to be lumped in with this gaggle of lame geese who weren't going to have the intestinal fortitude to do what needed doing.
I have a belief in my arsenal that you can get a lot in life just by being present, and being pleasant. You know, show up, have a good attitude. I'm not saying that will teach you to fly a plane or perform heart surgery, but in non-emergent situations, you will be surprised at how much that can get you.
All of this because yesterday, I was rounding the corner on my first official training session at my new job. I was explaining a concept to the new hires that I wanted to drive home before turning them over to the preceptors. It was about 20 minutes before the preceptors would log in and start meeting the team.
So, I had just finished making a very critical point about how, "Hey - you may hear other people say this one thing - we're not going to be saying that going forward, and here's why. " And one of the preceptors who had joined the meeting early said, "Oh, actually - we find that thing really helpful to say, and it can make a big difference if you say it and here's why." She had missed the first part of the speech. And I said, "OK, no, you missed most of this conversation. We're not going to do that anymore." She argued that it's in the script. And I said, "Actually, it's not. Check the version that was published last week."
She kept pushing back that she hadn't been told this, was she going to get training. Finally I said, "Here's the deal. We're starting this by not teaching bad habits to new folks. Then we'll go back and get the people who have been here awhile to unlearn it. It's a single talking point. It is not an important talking point, and it is no longer on the script." And then she said, "OK, well, I need to drop and join a preceptor meeting." To which, I replied, "This IS the preceptor meeting."
So I wrote a strongly worded email to the preceptors stating my point of view and asking them to refrain teaching that one talking point. I laid it out with precision and clarity. I invoked their director to explain that he was 100% on board. I still got two questions. Actually, the same question from two people. And not a bad question - just... nitpicky. It tells me you understand what I'm asking, but not why. And I thought I had laid out a great argument for why.
Anyway - was it successful? In that I survived and nobody did a lot of complaining, sure. Was I good at it? No, no I was not.
Actually, my training this week went well. I was able to wrangle the class effectively, I think they learned a lot, and I didn't go down too many rabbit holes. Today I'm going to start doing a write-up of what worked and what didn't to cover with my boss in a one on one next week.
Then, I am going to break down the fortress I have created in a conference room to get back to my desk.
After that, the world is my oyster.
I love a good oyster. Not here, in landlocked Tennessee, but, you know - Florida.
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