Read Aloud the Text Content

This audio was created by Woord's Text to Speech service by content creators from all around the world.

Text Content or SSML code:

When I think of change, I like to imagine the transitions between seasons. This helps me view change as a beautiful unfolding, rather than a terrifying process. I’ve always been fascinated with autumn foliage; I’m amazed by how the leaves wither and wilt before falling away. I often wonder what gave perennial plants and trees enough trust in their Creator to be born again come spring. I like to think their fiery golden hues represent the bravery it takes to shed what is no longer needed, without question or doubt. Letting go has never been my strength. If I were a tree, I’d be scared out of my mind that my leaves would never return. But in my ideal world, change wouldn’t incite fear. Instead, it would encourage shedding as part of the natural process of becoming whole and lush. The shifting I’ve grown to know over the years isn’t appealing, dreamy, or intrepidly anticipated. Instead, it’s unsettling, at times chaotic, and often terrifying. Learning how to lean into change and not run from it has been a pain in the ass on almost all occasions in my life. My relationship with necessary adjusting has been both tumultuous and invigorating. Through the inevitable discomfort of having to unlearn old bad habits, I had to take ownership of redefining my sense of self so that I could discover my purpose. And that meant embracing time alone, a season of complete solitude. Transforming on my own wasn’t my first choice, but it’s grown to be my most treasured. Being alone showed me that I could shed, release, and outgrow anything,including my old ways and bad habits, that didn’t serve me well. Change taught me the importance of self-autonomy, which I never quite believed I would come to know. The notion that I had the power to outgrow who I was, and start a new relationship with who I wanted to be, became clear to me when I was about twenty-one. Even though it felt impossible, I wanted badly to reroute my life and find joy, but I didn’t know where to start. Searching for and finding my how was the scariest thing I’d done in my life. Changing meant I had to start with being honest about who I was and who I wanted to be. It meant learning the difference between being alone and being lonely. I had to get my stuff together. And in order to do that, I knew I needed to leave people behind who were distracting me from my growth. I had to start from scratch and acknowledge my roles in the cycles that I said I wanted to break. Committing to change meant challenges and trust, which stripped me of everything that I knew. It was the summer of 2011, and I was approaching my twentysecond birthday. The DC metro area was oppressive and brutally hot. I’d just been fired from my first real job as an officer manager, where I was making eighteen dollars an hour. I thought that I was rolling in dough. The gig was sweet and easy, but I wasn’t a good employee. In fact, leading up to that job, I had been a historically terrible staff member at every single place I’d been employed, from a retail job at Forever 21 for a day to nannying. I often joke that I am likely still used as an example of what not to be and do at staff meetings. I did not like working for anyone—families, corporations, or nonprofits. My attitude made that clear to my employers. I was miserable at work because I had no idea what I wanted to do or be in life, and that cluelessness made things stressful. I was overwhelmed with the pressure of having to figure it out. Having a boss and reporting to someone, punching a time card, and needing to be someplace that sucked the life out of me wasn’t my first choice. It actuallywasn’t a choice at all. When I was seven I looked at my nana and said, “When I grow up, I want to work for myself so I can be with my family.” Even as a child, I knew what I wanted my life to be, and it wasn’t rooted in being an unhappy employee. But now as an adult with a child, I had to do what I had to do for her wellbeing, no matter how unfulfilling. I worked at that sweet gig for only three months. It was short lived because apparently I was the worst office manager to ever grace the front desk of that small organization. They took a chance on a young black single mother who had an outstanding resume filled with jobs I hated. My mom worked in HR at the time and had hooked up my resume in all the right ways. I remember I showed up to the interview in a black pinstripe pantsuit from H&M, a baby-blue satin button-up shirt, and kitten heels. I felt like I was performing for a role on The Office. On paper, I was amazing; in reality, they were absolutely right to fire me. On the first day, I looked the part, but I was awful at the job and I wasn’t managing a damn thing but selfies in the bathroom mirror. The office could’ve caught on fire and I likely wouldn’t have been there in time to catch it. My maturity level wasn’t at its peak yet. Or, perhaps, I was too miserable to see past the fact that I had a job to do. One that was actually considered important. Working at a job I didn’t want was the reason behind my unprofessionalism and foolishness. I found out I was being let go through an email sent to the entire staff. Whoever sent it forgot to remove me from the thread. It was an embarrassing relief that was bound to happen. Someone way more committed than me deserved that job and the decent pay. The message read as follows: All,Who is going to fire her? We need to let Alex go before the end of the week. I called our former office manager to see if there was any way she could please come back, she said yes :o). The director gave us the go-ahead to increase her pay, too. She can start as soon as Friday. The new girl is just not working out. Any takers? —Bonnie* One of my former coworkers was nice enough to offer to help coach me. She was the only other black lady in the organization, so I know she was trying to look out for me, despite the fact that I didn’t deserve it. Bonnie, Do we really need to fire her? Maybe I can help her get better? She’s young and new and likely just needs a little molding. I am willing to help if there’s any chance of flexibility. —Sharon* The answer to that was a clear and hard no. Sharon, Mae* is starting this Friday. Alex has to go, unfortunately. Are you open to letting her know tomorrow morning? Oh, and can you pack up her belongings so they’ll be ready when she comes in? Thanks, B. I decided to chime in since no one seemed to notice that I was on the thread.Wait, what? I’m fired? —Alex Office Manager