I loaded my most important belongings into my beat-up white Toyota Corolla that my brother had bought from a friend for $1. I had:
– a duffel bag of clothes
– my laptop
– and a Pearl drum kit
Yep, the essentials!
I had to maneuver the bass drum into the passenger seat. I barely got it in.
I’d signed up to volunteer at a nonprofit for food, lodging, and a $100/mo stipend.
The first few months, I sorted junk metals, cleaned up the premises, and changed oil in cars. With my prior experience, I quickly moved into the office.
Within the first 5 months, I had moved video production in-house and produced two promotional videos:
– One to recruit staff
– One to raise fund.
Within the first 9 months, I became the director’s assistant.
– I sat in on leadership meetings.
– I assembled policy manuals.
– I ghostwrote fundraising letters.
– I corresponded with the board.
– I oversaw public communications
– I assembled the annual meeting agenda.
– I helped with 5-year projections and plans.
I was privy to all the inner workings of the organization, even some privileged personnel issues.
“It’s front row training for leadership,” I was told. For the first time, I felt this glimmer of hope.
“Maybe I’m born to lead.”
But as time went on, my responsibilities started to drift. I became increasingly isolated.
– more tech
– more video editing
– more administrative work
And no surprise…
– The organizational value of having tech expertise at an 80% discount far outweighed the value of a director position that could be filled elsewhere.
Supply and demand.
And yet, it meant:
– less strategy
– less leadership
– less human interaction
– less purpose
Our team watched Marcus Buckingham’s video series on strengths. I read and summarized Daniel Pink’s book Drive for the director.
I felt the pull to lead. I felt the longing to use my unique strengths to make my greatest contribution.
Oddly, it never occurred to me to ask for change. I had come to assume that my requests would be denied, that accommodations would be bandaid fixes.
It wasn’t worth trying.
Leadership positions opened up. I had fleeting thoughts, “If I’m being trained & mentored for leadership, maybe that could be me.” But my name never came up, and I never put myself forward for them.
Maybe it was easier to be overlooked than experience what might feel like outright rejection.
Today, it’s clear I was being redirected. I couldn’t see where I was going. I only knew that I needed to move on.
So here I was…
– Burned out
– Making a fraction of what I made before
– With no path forward within the organization
I remember sitting down with the director, looking him in the eye, and saying, “I need to make more money. I’m quitting.”
I had learned a lot.
I had experienced a lot.
I had gotten a taste of what leadership involved.
I wasn’t prepared for what came next.
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