First worst

First worst; chores, homework, veggies. This approach served me well as a child, and hopefully will again with this first blog post. I am a transplant a few times removed, I never expected to leave Southern California and somehow it seems like a lifetime ago that I called it home.


I have taken a very scenic route, fueled by interesting decisions. I’ve lived on three continents, residing in several countries, and have worked in dozens more. The scenic route is not always the most beautiful or glamours it is often dusty with many twists and turns.

I wholeheartedly believe that my worst job set me on this scenic journey, unbeknownst to me. My worst job, hands down, no contest, was a sub-prime debt collector. I grew up poor, with debt collectors pursuing us. It broke my heart to call people the day after Thanksgiving, asking them for money I knew they did not have. I cried in my car.
I worked five days a week and every other weekend, for 12 months exactly.

Two weeks before my first work anniversary I handed in my notice. I knew that I needed that one year of experience, I also knew that I did not want to work there a second longer.

I learned two important things during that year. First, I learned that I could be my authentic self when having these often painful conversations, conveying kindness and empathy. Second, it taught me that this approach would ultimately lead me to success.
I ended up being good, so good, that when I handed in my notice, they offered me more money to say. I politely declined to know that job no longer served me.


The worst things often set the trajectory for the best things.

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