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Posted: February 13th, 2007 at 12:55am By: Janet Conner
We all want answers. We want to know what we should do, where our careers are going, what's the best school, who we should be with, how we can heal our health issues ... the list is endless. We wish we could peek into the future and see how everything is going to come out. We're all on the hunt for the perfect — aka "safe" — answer.
I am no different. I want my answers, too. That is, I did until my hairdresser knocked that notion out of my head.
I'd been offered a supervisor's job at CNN Headline News, a job for which I had few apparent qualifications. I was excited and scared. I was excited to be part of an experiment. (This was just 18 months after the birth of CNN.) But I was also scared to take it and possibly fail. I was equally afraid not to take it and lose the chance to step out of an orderly but unexciting teaching career — a chance I was fairly certain would not come twice.
I handled this momentous decision the same way you undoubtedly do: I fretted. I worried. I tossed. I turned. And I talked. I talked to anyone who would listen. I kept hoping someone would have the answer: Yes. No. Good. Bad. Take it. Let it go. Jump in. Stay where you are. I wanted somebody — anybody — to give me the right answer.
I had promised to call the VP at CNN with my decision on Friday. On Thursday I had a hair appointment. As I settled into her chair, my hairdresser said, "So, what's new with you?" Well, lots. I told her about the opportunity at CNN. I told her about how they found me and the unusual interview. I was told to observe the set for two hours and then tell the VP how I'd handle the job.
I told her the offer was for the same amount of money I was making, so I couldn't make my decision based on money. I told her they wanted me to work second shift, something I'd never done before. I told her I was afraid I might not succeed. I'd never managed a TV crew. Sure, I'd been a principal and I thought there were some parallels, but I'd be responsible for hiring and supervising people running equipment I'd never even touched.
"I need to give them an answer tomorrow," I told her, "and I don't know what to do. I just wish I knew how things were going to come out. If I knew that, I could make a decision."
Unfortunately, she had a hairbrush in her hand when I said that last part about wanting to know in advance how things were going to come out. Wham. She bopped me on the top of the head. Hard.
"Huh?" I looked up at her in the mirror. "What was that for?"
"Who do you think you are" she snapped, "that you should get to know the future? No one knows the future. You have to make the best decision you can right now. Without knowing how it's going to come out."
She wasn't joking. She didn't apologize for hitting me. She meant it. I wasn't entitled to a peek into the future, and I had no business asking for one.
I usually don't advocate bopping people on the head; I'm a big fan of nonviolence. But at the moment her hairbrush collided with my skull, something happened — something that words never would have accomplished. The impact knocked an old stuck idea loose and instantly I could see that she was right. We don't get to know our answers. We get to live them.
I knew exactly what to do. I thanked her profusely and gave her a ridiculous tip. She looked at it. "What's this for?"
"Oh," I replied, "that's for giving me such rich spiritual food." When I got to the front door, I turned around. She was still standing next to her chair, the money in her open palm.
Some of our teachers are reverends and rabbis, but just as many, probably more, walk beside us every day in the guise of custodians and waitresses, clerks and mechanics, librarians and bus drivers. My great teacher that year was a hairdresser in Atlanta, Georgia. The year I designed the most successful entry-level recruiting program in television for CNN.
(Next week: It's all about asking)
— — —
Janet Conner, S.E. (Spiritual Explorer), is the author of the Spiritual Geography series and is currently writing "Dear God: The Conversation That Changes Everything." The Spiritual Geography books are available through Amazon or Spiritual Geography. Reach Janet at {email janetconner@tampabay.rr.com}janetconner@tampabay.rr.com{/email}.© copyright 2007 by Janet Conner
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We all want answers. We want to know what we should do, where our careers are going, what's the best school, who we should be with, how we can heal our health issues ... the list is endless. We wish we could peek into the future and see how everything is going to come out. We're all on the hunt for the perfect — aka "safe" — answer.
I am no different. I want my answers, too. That is, I did until my hairdresser knocked that notion out of my head.
I'd been offered a supervisor's job at CNN Headline News, a job for which I had few apparent qualifications. I was excited and scared. I was excited to be part of an experiment. (This was just 18 months after the birth of CNN.) But I was also scared to take it and possibly fail. I was equally afraid not to take it and lose the chance to step out of an orderly but unexciting teaching career — a chance I was fairly certain would not come twice.
I handled this momentous decision the same way you undoubtedly do: I fretted. I worried. I tossed. I turned. And I talked. I talked to anyone who would listen. I kept hoping someone would have the answer: Yes. No. Good. Bad. Take it. Let it go. Jump in. Stay where you are. I wanted somebody — anybody — to give me the right answer.
I had promised to call the VP at CNN with my decision on Friday. On Thursday I had a hair appointment. As I settled into her chair, my hairdresser said, "So, what's new with you?" Well, lots. I told her about the opportunity at CNN. I told her about how they found me and the unusual interview. I was told to observe the set for two hours and then tell the VP how I'd handle the job.
I told her the offer was for the same amount of money I was making, so I couldn't make my decision based on money. I told her they wanted me to work second shift, something I'd never done before. I told her I was afraid I might not succeed. I'd never managed a TV crew. Sure, I'd been a principal and I thought there were some parallels, but I'd be responsible for hiring and supervising people running equipment I'd never even touched.
"I need to give them an answer tomorrow," I told her, "and I don't know what to do. I just wish I knew how things were going to come out. If I knew that, I could make a decision."
Unfortunately, she had a hairbrush in her hand when I said that last part about wanting to know in advance how things were going to come out. Wham. She bopped me on the top of the head. Hard.
"Huh?" I looked up at her in the mirror. "What was that for?"
"Who do you think you are" she snapped, "that you should get to know the future? No one knows the future. You have to make the best decision you can right now. Without knowing how it's going to come out."
She wasn't joking. She didn't apologize for hitting me. She meant it. I wasn't entitled to a peek into the future, and I had no business asking for one.
I usually don't advocate bopping people on the head; I'm a big fan of nonviolence. But at the moment her hairbrush collided with my skull, something happened — something that words never would have accomplished. The impact knocked an old stuck idea loose and instantly I could see that she was right. We don't get to know our answers. We get to live them.
I knew exactly what to do. I thanked her profusely and gave her a ridiculous tip. She looked at it. "What's this for?"
"Oh," I replied, "that's for giving me such rich spiritual food." When I got to the front door, I turned around. She was still standing next to her chair, the money in her open palm.
Some of our teachers are reverends and rabbis, but just as many, probably more, walk beside us every day in the guise of custodians and waitresses, clerks and mechanics, librarians and bus drivers. My great teacher that year was a hairdresser in Atlanta, Georgia. The year I designed the most successful entry-level recruiting program in television for CNN.
(Next week: It's all about asking)
— — —
Janet Conner, S.E. (Spiritual Explorer), is the author of the Spiritual Geography series and is currently writing "Dear God: The Conversation That Changes Everything." The Spiritual Geography books are available through Amazon or Spiritual Geography. Reach Janet at {email janetconner@tampabay.rr.com}janetconner@tampabay.rr.com{/email}.© copyright 2007 by Janet Conner
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