STEPPING OFF THE SIDEWALK
My parents both owned their own businesses. They extolled the virtues of making your own decisions, figuring things out by trial and error, growing revenue, and building a reputation as an expert. At the dinner table they talked not only about the “work” they did but about the networking.
Their friends all owned businesses too. When they wanted to describe a friend or colleague who had been successful in a new venture, they would say they “stepped off the sidewalk and the ground came up to meet them.”
They encouraged me to work for myself.
For my part, I was a painfully shy kid who turned into a painfully shy adult. I had to summon all my courage to be able to talk to strangers; there was no way I could go out on my own. But I was smart, loved data and had a knack for seeing how you could make order out of chaos. I knew I fit better inside a big organization that had structure and clear roles. So, after I got my law degree, I set off to climb the corporate ladder.
That worked out fine for many years. I quietly climbed the ladder; I had several meaningful roles and ultimately entered the c-suite. And then it didn’t. My last role was with a company whose revenues dropped when COVID ended. I had to lay off ~15% of the workforce including myself.
After a whole lot of thought, I decided I should try my luck at consulting. No problem with the skills part of this. I think I have built an impressive resume and accumulated a fair amount of wisdom. But now I had to face all those fears that led me away from my parents’ advice so many years ago.
For someone as shy as I was, the thought of starting a business was terrifying. When I looked over the edge of that sidewalk, I saw only a yawning abyss. But I’d made a commitment to myself so I needed to get started.
First, I had to acknowledge that I had not built the huge network ready to hand me work that my consultant friends talked about. Being so shy, I had not focused along the way on building connections, or seeking allies and sponsors. When a seminar or conference came along, I thought “I have too much work to do” rather than “I should go — I will meet new people.” I knew I was lousy at small talk so I figured I would just be cowering in a corner anyway. It was so much less scary to stay in the office and work.
So, that’s what I did. I worked. Every time someone else got promoted, or won an award, or got their name in the paper, I redoubled my efforts and worked harder. I assumed if I delivered a perfect product, those accolades would happen for me too. It never occurred to me that people were intentionally strengthening their careers by creating personal brands and building helpful connections. I realized I have a lot of catching up to do.
Next, I knew if I was going to earn a living as a consultant, I had to overcome my fear of initiating conversations. Otherwise, I was going to sit in my office and stare at the walls.
For years I have been reading books about how to interact with others. I read classics like How to Win Friends and Influence People, by Dale Carnegie and more recent material like Give and Take by Adam Grant. They all have suggestions on how to connect, but because I had grown so adept at justifying how well my career was going despite my shyness, I never put any of these ideas to use.
Being shy is exhausting, and if I am honest, it’s really lonely. I was so tired of being afraid of what I was supposed to say to people after I said “hello, my name is”, the thought of finally fixing this was a relief.
Once I made up my mind it happened very quickly. I just changed my words. Changing my statements changed my behavior and my thinking. I used to tell people I was a “raging introvert or “painfully shy”. In April I started saying I “USED TO BE shy.” As I went through my day, if I encountered a new situation, I would ask myself what would someone who wasn’t shy do about this? Then, I would act the “not shy” way. That’s all I did.
The first time I really put the “not shy” me to the test was last month on an airplane. I was in an aisle seat next to a gentleman in the middle seat whose son was in the middle seat right behind us. The kid didn’t feel well and looked like he was going to pass out. The man, let’s call him Dave, asked his son’s two seat mates if either would switch with him so that he could move back and take care of his kid. No one budged. I told Dave I would help him, and I negotiated a series of seat swaps over many rows so Dave and his child could be together. Then I sat down — mystified by my own behavior.
I made this solution up myself, but I have come to find out it’s a “real thing”. It’s called narrative psychology. This is the theory that we tell ourselves stories to make meaning out of, and deal with, our life experiences — good or bad. By changing the story, we can change our patterns, behavior and ultimately our wellbeing**
The not-shy me started saying yes to every invitation that came along, attending every event, every seminar and every conference that seemed worth the money. I invited strangers to lunch. I found if I started with one simple question and kept saying “tell me more”, people talked. Introverts (and former shy people like me) are great listeners, so I am putting that superpower to work all the time now.
Right now, it’s all about forward movement. I’m striding off the sidewalk every day. It’s still a little fuzzy but I think I see a road under my feet.
