Remarkable

5 years ago, I bombed an interview for a company I really wanted to work at. About halfway through, I could sense that it was going sideways. 

When I got the call - the news was bittersweet. “I don’t think you’d be a fit for this particular position, but I’m going to reroute you to something that might be a better fit.” I was thrilled at the idea of getting a second chance, but disappointed that I didn’t get what I wanted. 

When I went to send the traditional “thank you for your time!” email, something took hold of me and I stopped. It felt like I was giving up too easily. Like there was something more I could do. 

I opened up PowerPoint, and started typing. I created a slide deck to show exactly why I would be perfect for this position. I included photos, humor, and a spunkiness that had left me after entering Corporate America. 

I sent the email, buzzing with anticipation at what could happen next. “I wonder if this will work. I wonder if I have the power to change his mind.”

Spoiler alert - I didn’t. The interviewer said he appreciated the creativity, but still saw me as a better fit somewhere else. He forwarded the deck to the hiring manager for that position, and wished me good luck.

I got the other job, and told myself I’d switch when I got there. I was taught, “Just get your foot in the door” - so as far as I was concerned, my mission had been accomplished. 

Now - this is where the story typically ends, right? After a year of job searching, the woman makes a ballsy move to work at her dream company, and all live happily ever after. 

But it didn’t.

After a full month of training, our starting class was tasked with making a final presentation. The purpose was to showcase our grasp of the tools and strategies we were taught, by applying them to an imaginary business of our choosing. I immediately chose a writing workshop - focused on raising the voices of minorities and people of color. I created the worse website name of all time (emersonsanddaughters.com), and poured my heart into the narrative. I did rehearsals with my manager and mentor, who after rounds of iteration - said that I would nail it. 

On Judgment Day, sweaty-faced, I waited for feedback from the group. A woman looked me dead in the eye and said, “That was good, but it wasn’t remarkable - and here’s why.” 

The words stuck on me like pollen, my eyes watering as soon as they made contact. I steadied myself in the moment, thinking that this was going to help me grow. 

For years, I brought this mindset to my job. Take the feedback, pivot, try again, you’ll feel better. Fix the things you’re doing wrong. Hack your way into success. 

It worked, for a while, until it didn’t. In November of 2020, my manager told me that if my performance didn’t become more consistent, I would be let go.

Once again, I was called to create. I assembled a 8-page document detailing why this was out of order. I gathered data to debunk every claim. I gathered screenshots of positive feedback I had received. I wrote and wrote until I couldn’t write any more. 

A few months later, I got a raise. A few months after that, I was a top performer. Another few months, another raise. 

Now THIS is where the story ends, right?? Struggling worker almost gets fired, turns it around, becomes a leader. 

But no, because something was still missing. 

Because when my value was consistently reduced to a number, I knew that I was in the wrong place.

I fought this knowledge for a while. I had worked so hard to get here, to land a job at a company that was voted best place to work year after year. We had access to famous speakers, solid healthcare, and flexibility that many would kill for. We had fun, free smoothies, and fire perks. Finally, I was making 6 figures. 

So I fought. Maybe I could stick around a little longer, and fuel my passions on the side. Maybe I could find another job here (20th time is the charm!) Maybe I could change things with time. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Then I remembered what that woman said to me, 4 and half years ago. Good, but not remarkable - and finally, I knew that she was right. That here, no matter what I did - I would always be good, but never remarkable. 

Sure, I could hack my way to success. I had done it for a few months, but then would boomerang back to apathy. I could change my behavior, but not my conviction - that this would be my job, but it would never be my work.

I’ve spent the last 9 years “working,” so it is strange to realize that actually, I haven’t. I’ve held jobs, gone to offices, done the thing that generates income. But that thing I’m supposed to be doing - that thing that I did in that thank you email, that presentation, that rebuttal document - THAT is my work. It has been here all along, just waiting for me to see it. 

The day I quit my job, I felt pulled to gather my old journals. I flipped through them, and found past versions of myself, dating all the way back to 1997. I remembered the way I used to write my name on everything - on the wall next to my bed, on my garbage can, and (to my mother’s chagrin) - the wall in the bathroom as I sat thinking on the toilet. The way seeing myself in written word has been as vital as breathing. 

As I sat there, with my 6-year old self, 16-year old self, 26-year old self, and beyond - I said out loud, “We really doing this?!” and I felt them say back, “Yes, we’ve been waiting. It’s time.”

And so, it is. 

This Friday, I am a “free woman,” as Amish told me, and I have cried many times leading up to it. Because as deeply as I know what I must do next, I also feel grief for what’s being left behind. The recent grad who thought consulting would “prevent me from being pigeon-holed.” The tired traveler who thought tech would “give me a platform for jumping to the next job.” The versions of myself who brought me here - which is to say, brought me back home to myself. 

I am learning that you could want something with your entire heart, only to realize it is killing you. 

That you can force your way through anything, but it doesn’t mean that it’s right.

That sometimes where you’re going, is somewhere you’ve been all along. 

As I sit on the verge of this leap, I find myself buzzing with the same anticipation from 2017. 

I wonder if this will work, I wonder if I have the power to change minds.


And while I don’t know, and won’t know, for some time - what I do know is this. 


I am creative, and insightful, and empathetic, and bold. 


And that. Is fucking. Remarkable. 


Let’s get to work.

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