Our team from work was set to go to a Leadership Network Conference last week.
I am not a leader, not a “rhetoric, mobilizing force of one” – Dar Williams.*
But it was a team thing. And I was looking forward to the time with them.
And the learning.
Taking in the knowledge of other people via their writing or speaking. I appreciate them and their stories – even when I may not fully agree with them. I enjoy learning.
I feel like I never have time for that. I work – and try to be present with all I have – because that’s all I have to give. I come home – exhausted – and do the chores I need to do. Spend time with my Jeff as much as I can. And then I crash.
Night after night. And wake up every morning, exhausted.
When our team carved out the time to go to a local conference, I was excited. One of the speakers – the whole reason we were going – was the author of a book we were reading as a team.
And at the last minute, he backed out.
Agendas, politics, small – but very loud – voices persuaded him. And he backed out.
(So many words come to mind to describe him. None of them are positive.)
The rest of the team decided to take the afternoon off.
I still wanted to go. Even though I had no idea what the replacement speaker was going to talk about.
We had only planned to attend one session, not the entire conference. So it wouldn’t be for very long. (Talking myself into it.)
So I went. Alone.
I drove into the parking lot and found a spot. Got out of the car, walked in the direction everyone else was going.
There was a check-in table. Empty. And nobody was behind it. Or near it.
So I walked in the door. I had the confirmation number and was totally paid for, so if anyone asked, I was good. Not being shady.
I looked around, and sat down in a seat, hoping people who were there for the morning session wouldn’t be territorial.
I attended the conference alone.
The first topic: Humility.
The second: Vulnerability.
Haha!
Touche, God!
Very funny.
*"The Pointless, Yet Poignant, Crisis of a Co-Ed" – Dar Williams