Update: This post was also published at Damsels in Success.
I started a new job on Wednesday. At 23 years old, I am now the Executive Director of a young professional organization whose mission is to attract and retain young talent and leadership in my area in order to contribute to the regions’ economic, civic, social, and public policy futures. Can’t get more Gen-Y Princess than that.
After one of the best first days at work ever, a day that left me dazed at the possibility of it all, I sat with my friend Hercules at his condo. His condo is trendy and beautiful, and immaculately clean, like in a commercial, the kind of clean that makes you feel dirty even if you’ve just taken a shower.
I was admiring the lack of spider webs in the upper corner of the wall, thinking about my new job, about what exactly I had gotten myself into and how I would be able to pull it off, when Hercules asked me an interesting question:
“If the worst happened, would you be okay? Can you accept the worst case scenario? Can you fail and survive?”
I turned to face him and nodded slowly. Yes, I thought, I could fail. If young talent left the city in droves, and everyone in the city hated me, if I bankrupted the organization and it tumbled down in flames, if I ruined my reputation and only rodents of the squirrel variety would talk to me, I would be okay. I would survive.
“Because if you can envision failure,” he said, “and you know that your life would go on, and you would still wake up every morning, and get out of bed, then life is at your feet.”
“Yes,” I said, out loud this time. “I’d be okay with failing. Life would go on. I would still wake up and get out of bed every morning. Well, five days out of the week, at least.”
“Good,” he said. “Then you’ll succeed.”