He strolled in well-dressed, brown coat slung across one arm, a worn out briefcase in the other. He clearly didn’t want to be there. In his past life, it seemed, he’d been used to so much more.
I instantly shadowed him with a tray of multigrain bread and mini tubs of butter, anticipating his need before he took a seat.
“Tack,” a quick thanks as he reaches for a few slices. Within seconds, I was back with a plate of rice and a sweet-sour meat-y gravy before he had a chance to peel back the little foil cover of his butter.
“Soyasås,” he asked. Soy sauce? I rushed off to find him a bottle of the dark syrupy liquid.
“Tack. No Lemonade?”. I apologized as I poured him a glass of cool water, the only beverage we had. At least, it had lemon slices.
“Socker?” Sugar. He was on to something.
Soon, I was rushing back with cubes of sugar and slices of lemon for homemade lemonade at his table.
With biting cold driving us all indoors, I’d been looking forward to meeting and working with Stockholm’s homeless for weeks. Wondered how they dealt with the heaps of snow. Wondered who they were.
Like him, I was used to so much more in my past corporate life. The business travel. Hopping from one high profile project to the other. Staring at lines of code. Geeking out at tightly written syntax. Business suits. High heels.
I used to have a title.
While I voluntarily gave mine up, I may never really know his full story.
Frankly, his previous story need not matter anymore.
As I rushed to my gate at Heathrow for the fourth time in just 6 weeks, I quickly glanced at my reflection through sliding doors. The oversized ski cap, knee-length scarf, flat-heeled boots, muted neutral colors…
One of the sweetest things I’ve learned while immersing myself in Swedish culture is the silent confidence that comes with that unspoken word…”be” not “say.”
That even beneath nonthreatening exteriors and shabby greys, you can be confident in what you know well, who you are, and no one else really needs to validate that.
My previous story need not matter anymore to anyone else, but me.
Comments (22)
Lola — I love this post!! I know exactly what you mean. I spent 20 years as an executive and when I chose to give it up and start over (at the very bottom) at a non profit org that promotes workplace health and safety, I initially felt lost. I realized that I was lost without my “identifiers” — the business suit, heels, briefcase and people who knew my skills and accomplishments. Once I had this epiphany I haven’t looked back. I love my job and I am free to be doing just want I want – and I don’t need tha acknowledgement and validation from anyone exceot myself. This post hit the nail on the head and it mattered to me!
Lyn – Thanks so much for your thoughts on this! We definitely have a lot in common. It’s amazing how much more real life can be without those “identifiers” like you mentioned. I’m currently in that transition mode so sometimes it feels a little daunting but I know I made the right decisions.
Many thanks again!
I love this – “the silent confidence that comes with that unspoken word…”be” not “say.”
Even though I find that it gets easier to let go of the identifiers the longer your away from that scene, there are still times when I get questioned by “professionals” and find myself bringing up my past to show that I have “relevant experience.” Then I realize that the best experience I’ve gained has been in the last few years since I left my traditional job. I enjoy who I am now.
ahhh I love your writing….but i feel bad…deathrow 4 times in 6 weeks? im sorry. I’ll give you a hug the next (first) time i see you!
“I used to have a title”. Amen, sister. I used to have a life. I used to have an identity beyond code. I used to live beyond the whiteboard diagram of some stupid architecture. I used to…
I used to…be able to express my thoughts as lucidly as you do. But now I just read yours instead. I love your writing. Thank you.
Love how profound and tightly written this is.
Audrey – I totally hear you. And if anyone has racked up more organic life experiences, its you and Dan. You guys are truly living.. Being…
Nomadic Matt – For sure! I owe you a big hug as well
Dylan – Thanks so much. If anyone understands to the T, it’s you because we both shared the same world.
Julie – Thanks! I really need to carve out more personal time to sit down and write what flows out, quality aside.
Just beautiful…
Christine – Thanks!
Love this Lola. This is going to stay with me for a while – the silent confidence that comes with that unspoken word …”be” not “say.”
Neha – Thanks. It’s really something that’s profoundly ingrained in the culture.
Great post. I would love to leave my job and move to Europe and become an internet entrepreneur. That is great that you took that step which is freedom from the corporate game and tactics.
Amazing. You Matador folks are constant role models for me.
I once had an experience like this volunteering at a homeless shelter. A woman who appeared to have come from money walked up to be served. I remember her saying, “this isn’t me…” I mostly thought about the uncertainty of life, but it also made me think a lot about what defines “me”. It was a short exchange but it never left my mind.
Renelda – I think a break from the corporate world is needed once in awhile. I have nothing against it, but it was time for a much-needed break
Candice – Thanks! You guys are truly inspiring as well. For real.
Ekua – It truly is profound. Once every “identifier” is stripped off and only the real “you” is left standing, one is left wondering if the real “you” is enough. As it should be.
Great dialogue, Lola. You’ve really stripped out all the excess here and pared things down to their essence.
Really lovely, Lola. I think we travelers have a knack for shedding old skins then finding new ones that carry just the slightest shade of the past.