Finding Grace

After a quick cry in the bathroom, a calming epiphany.
By Lisa Earle McLeod

I could tell they didn’t want to be there. As their boss introduced me, the rolling eyes and annoyed looks indicated this was going to be a tough one.

I was a sales trainer, and after 10 years in the seminar biz, this was becoming an all too familiar scenario. Management wants to improve sales, so they hire a hot-shot consultant (in this case me) to conduct a seminar for employees who resent having to attend a training program they don’t think they need.

Over the years, I’ve come to identify three kinds of meeting attendees: Prisoners, Passives, and Passionates, and this crew was definitely the first. They may have resented me for being there, but frankly, I was starting to resent their organization for putting me in this spot to begin with.

Senior management hadn’t done anything to explain the purpose of the meeting. So 50 sales people showed up not knowing what to expect. Despite sending a detailed room diagram requesting classroom seating, I found myself facing the backs of half the audience, which was tightly packed into eight-foot rounds.

The AV guy informed me that the client vetoed the lav mike I requested because it was too expensive.  So I was going to have try to be engaging and interactive from behind a huge podium that came up to my chin. And to make matters worse, five minutes before I went on, the VP informed me that everyone was in a foul mood because the CEO had just announced that they were cutting bonuses.

So there I stood, facing a ballroom of imprisoned sales people who would probably rather make cold calls than sit through a seminar with me. I struggled through the first hour using up my entire arsenal of witty jokes and then gave them (and me) a 15-minute break.

I’d always thought of myself as a positive, motivated person. But weeks of being on the road had taken their toll. Every time I turned around it was more of the same: unrealistic management expectations, cheap clients, and poorly managed logistics. I was tired, frustrated, and angry.

So I did what many professional women do, but very few admit to. I headed for the ladies room, locked myself in the stall, and began to cry. Then it dawned on me. It didn’t matter what was going on inside their company or that the hotel didn’t set the room right. I had been given the chance to touch the lives of 50 people and I was blowing it. I finally got it: I can’t control the universe, all I can do is make the most of the part I’ve been given.

That was seven years ago. Since then, I’ve made a conscious decision to infuse love and spirit into my work, and to bring the best of what I’ve got into every situation. I don’t master it every time. But when I do, it’s more powerful than anything I ever imagined crying in my bathroom stall pity party.

I ran across a prayer a few years ago that articulates my aspirations for my work. I repeat it every time before I go on stage: I pray that when the time comes, and all eyes and ears turn my way, that somehow—despite my shortcomings—I become an instrument of grace. Let the light flow through me.

Things don’t have to be perfect for you to make them wonderful. And when things go badly, that’s just God’s way of giving you a chance to let your grace shine through.

Lisa Earle McLeod is a syndicated newspaper columnist, speaker, and author of Forget Perfect (Penguin/ Putnam), and Finding Grace When You Can’t Even Find Clean Underwear. For more information, check out www.ForgetPerfect.com.