MyLegal.com Contributed Articles

Read Part I Here

Read Part II Here

Leaving the invite-only breakfast launched the one unfortunate (and awkward) moment thus far with my ‘needing’ to seek new goals. I heard my name. When I turned I saw the chairperson of my department. She said, “Monette, aren’t you supposed to be in class? What are you doing here?” I focused on standing tall and not appearing totally shocker-er-ooed.

She did not appear happy to see me. Multiple departments had been combined in the college (largest in the U.S.); she knew I was supposed to be teaching classes – particularly one academic at that moment. I did not lie, nor did I accurately detail our chance meeting. I mumbled a few words and then, Peter Rabbit here, said “I have to go.”

I drove to the college, entered my classroom, relieved my ‘sub’ and finished my day. Each time I saw the chairperson she asked what I was doing there. I chose all words well.

When I began teaching at this college, I taught in a city-condemned building – fourteen weeks each semester (plural semesters) – near a large park on Main Street where homeless individuals and terms “undesirables” and “used needles” were frequently shared on the televised news. Kid you not. And I worked nights, often leaving at 10:00 p.m. (before cell phones were routine and service was available). After our classes were reassigned, the building was razed.

Currently, the chairperson was working in the same building on the first floor. Now my classrooms were in the basement, one floor below the parking lot. We were underneath the mortuary department. We froze all the time as cadavers have to be frozen. I wore boots in July (as did my students). But I was not teaching in a condemned building, just in an arctic area.

Now you know I am not making this up, right?

The woman who called my name as I left the breakfast had important issues. I worked to stay off the front-burner as I reached up for this goal I needed. Did I mention I had prayed, received a sign and needed to do this?

The luncheon rolled around. I listened to the first speaker, folded my notes. When my name was called, I viewed only a sea of faces – all waiting. I placed a small clock on the podium – to avoid running over the allotted time. I forced myself to remember that I had prayed for this opportunity.

Though I remember shaking and being told to raise my voice, I survived. I did not faint. I remember applause at the end (they applauded all speakers), and people shared business cards. I placed all the cards in a small baggie. I packed my equipment, my notes and ate a dinner roll. Now I could relax. Then I returned to teach my classes. I had a CART job that evening; this was clearly my proudest moment that day.

The lesson(s)? The events, plural, did not knock on my door. I had to go get each – at first with a hat and a nametag.

When I answered that first question, “And what can I do for you?” time stood still in my world as I sought mindful words. I knew that moment – words or lack thereof – would change my evening and it did.

Though the power table of bankers rejected my request to breakfast with them, life continued. Perhaps at that moment I was a mere interruption. Perhaps I was introduced – later. I was in new territory. I thanked God for the opportunity to have been invited to the breakfast; then worked to avoid tripping on the air as I casually strolled back to the gentleman who waited for me. The chairperson soon relocated to another city; no one ever asked me why I wasn’t teaching my class that one morning. I met new people who changed my world with resulting steps. I carefully chose my words. And I remain grateful for each opportunity which arrived thereafter.

Was this fate? Perhaps luck or serendipity?

Or was this choosing the answer, the questions, each word, carefully? Now you choose. Mindful management: I’ll help you if I may. What do you need?

Next month: “Monette’s Mindful Management: Wants, Needs And Pajamas”