We meet over lunch
at this little restaurant on the water in Charleston, our table facing a wall
covered from floor to ceiling with orange life jackets hung in perfect rows. I don’t know him well, but he holds a significant
position in my organization, one of those select few with a “C” in his title. He intimidates me just a bit, but we’re among friends unwinding from a hectic conference,
connecting on a personal level. He’s telling stories about his past employment; they cause us to
blush and laugh out loud at the same time. He’s
human after all.
The following week
he’s in my in-box, thanking my colleagues and
I for allowing him to sit at the “cool kids’
table”, fulfilling, apparently, a dream he’s held on to since high school when he longed to drink his
chocolate milk with the in crowd. I
couldn’t help but think when I read his words that
here I was concerned about the impression I was making on him, and all the
while he was worrying about how we’d receive him.
Seth Godin writes
about the cool kids today, pulling the memory of this encounter out of the
vault in my head. The point he makes is thought
provoking: In our insatiable quest for
affirmation and acceptance, we can spend a ton of time comparing ourselves to
everyone else in the room. And when we do, we undoubtedly come up lacking, choosing
to see only those traits we wish we possessed, forgetting about everything
wonderful we do possess. The irony is while
we’re residing at the bottom of these
hierarchies in our heads, we sit squarely on top of the hierarchy of another,
we’re that person someone else aspires to be.
When we go looking
for places to fall short, the best we can find is comfort in knowing this is a
natural part of the human condition. When
we strive to transcend this game we are rewarded with something infinitely more
precious: The power to be who we’re meant to be.
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