Long, long time ago, in my previous life, I worked for an international IT company as a project manager.
I was part of a team responsible for quality improvement projects and the implementation of quality standards and policies across the organisation. We worked closely with the Quality Assurance team, whose job was also to deliver training. They taught things like change management, ITIL, Kanban, problem-solving techniques…
One day, a colleague from that team stopped at my desk in a gloomy mood. A trainer for a problem-solving session was sick, and there was no one to run the training. He asked if I could do it. Of course, he would send me a deck. All I had to do was read it.
Of course, it wasn’t just about reading it. But I agreed. I took the deck, went to the session and, with quite some confidence, bravado and nonchalance, delivered the training.
People left smiling and happy, thanking me for the great time and the content. That colleague came to me with a bright smile and asked if I could maybe do it regularly.
I could. I did.
I delivered some more really cool trainings there, as a side activity (you know, those not-really-billable hours…) and I knew already back then: I loved that job. I was really born to deliver trainings, workshops and presentations. I was a natural.
This was the beginning of my glorious path as an independent trainer and educator! I was a star. An entertainer. Everyone loved my trainings!
No, I’m kidding.
There is no glamorous story here.
In fact, although I am great as a trainer and facilitator, no one really knows that, because at the same time, I am terrible at speaking about it. And as I have been fighting (literally) for the last few days with descriptions, introductions, formalising the problem I address and the benefits I deliver, I realised that more than ever.
It hurts.
Being great at something, loving doing it, and not being able to fit it into the expected forms. Not being able to fit into the template for target group definition or the expected pitch formula…
It makes me feel like a schoolgirl again.
In high school, I was creative, a bit eccentric, but likeable — someone who could get along with almost anyone. There was so much happening in my imagination. I was writing funny stories, scripting and directing school theatre shows, wearing handmade ugly sweaters…
But when it came to serious exams, where all I was expected to do was fit into the expected format, all that creativity and clarity just disappeared. And I was just a boring, ordinary Stasia.
Back then, it just cost me a grade. It was still OK, but I knew I could do better if the scale was different.
Today, it can actually cost me money if I don’t find my own path – one that at least crosses sometimes with those well-known paths.
Here comes a moment of “practice what you preach”- in this case, not sticking to templates.
And I actually had a sort of epiphany.
I was doing my template homework, finding the language to fit what was in my imagination into official formats. And when it was all done, I realised: this was the last time I actually needed it in this format.
This specific situation.
Any other conversation or encounter I have will look completely different.
I don’t buy anything based on a pitch from anyone. And I don’t expect my clients to do that either.
I want them to know me. To find out what kind of person I am. To see whether we laugh at the same jokes.
Those frames and expectations give us a sense of stability and security. Just like the badges on the Scout shirts of my kids. They are expected to be in certain places.
I, of course, selected different locations. It’s not bad – just unpredictable when two Scouts meet. But when those Scouts are curious and friendly, they can still find badges they recognise.
Or they can simply start talking instead of focusing on the badges.
There are more ways to find out where we come from and what we do than just scanning the badges. They just take some more time.
And the art is to recognise when we have that time – and when we don’t.
I think we have some time here 🙂
I’m Stasia, and I deliver really cool, entertaining, engaging, professional business trainings for solopreneurs – especially women.
I don’t just hand people templates and tools; I teach business thinking, so they can use those tools to navigate their own decisions.
And I make it fun.
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