Make the earth quake.
Kick and turn, stomp, stomp."
- Shania Twain.
***
I hate being new.
I really hate being new.
I want to be the expert with the answers, that can engage a room and bring the team together; that no one can imagine how on earth they ever survived before.
(Low expectations)
Being new could not be any farther outside of my comfort zone.
***
I have not driven in the snow in probably 10 years.
How fitting to be working in Hanover, Ontario.
(Country roads and blowing snow - but quite possibly the most beautiful sunrises in the province.)
I have used an iPhone and a MacBook for at least the last decade.
It is of no surprise that I'm now on an Android and a Dell.
I have spent the last 365 days with Mal.
I am remote in Hanover for, what is beginning to look like, forever.
I go to bed at 10pm and wake up at 6.
The training team goes for dinner at 10pm and some days, sees the sunrise before they go to sleep.
I've been here two weeks and I have no idea where the staff entrance is to the site and twice I've had someone show me.
There is nothing more challenging for an obsessive perfectionist than ensuring that, at every possible freaking turn, EVERYTHING IS NEW.
Perhaps that is the lesson in itself.
***
Interestingly enough, I know this now.
I have an astute awareness to completely see my own shortfalls and patterns that perhaps I did not see as easily in my previous working life.
I see myself from 30,000 feet, as if I'm in the top corner of the room, and observe every tiny detail of how I'm acting and feeling.
(And many times look for the remote for the rewind button).
So it appears to be the greatest of all tests to try and shift my behavior into a new line of thinking.
***
As I'm surrounded by a group of individuals on a training team that is truly the best in their class, I have to remind myself to release my perfectionistic tendencies and embrace the process of learning and growth once again.
Every morning, I take out my journal and write down 5 good things about the day before. What I learned, what I appreciate and could express gratitude for, and what I am getting the hang of - even if it's as simple as adjusting to my new routine.
It will all come in time and I won't be the new girl forever.
Sometimes we need constant reminders that although transitions are never easy, there is progress and movement where we may not even notice.
***
It is that silly Shania song from so long ago that finally cracks me.
I am sitting in our, soon to be, Match restaurant in Hanover. There is plastic on the tables, boxes still up over the tv's, 30 constructions workers wandering the site in hard hats and boots.
We are challenged to meet our opening deadline and modifying our training schedule on the fly. Regardless of any delay or change, the training team is handling every issue with grace and class.
We have finally finished our morning sessions and are on a break when a construction worker turns up the volume and puts on a Shania Twain playlist. For some reason, it strikes me as absolutely comical that a burly, bearded man is belting out Any Man of Mine, so I decide to join him.
As I'm wiping down tables, laughing and singing the song (threatening to line dance), all my worries temporarily fade away for one fleeting moment - and it finally registers that I haven't allowed myself to be who I really am.
I have put so much pressure on myself to learn and absorb everything I can in 8.2 seconds that I've forgotten to have fun.
I've forgotten that every single one of us on this team started somewhere, that we all add a different perspective and value - and instead of comparing myself and my product knowledge to that of the others, how different could that outcome be if I focused more energy on my own unique point of view and built on that.
I stand back and take a deep breath and smile.
There is so much beauty in remembering to honour the beginning.