Everyone occasionally wishes they were something they’re not. Even I, with my enviable lifestyle and oozing lesions of awesomeness, sometimes daydream of being even more ridiculous – having an even more inappropriate wardrobe – owning even more tubes of lipgloss – than I currently am or have at any given point in time. While I’ve long since trained myself to be more or less happy with my allotment in life, sometimes I can’t help but wish I a rock star, or a darling of the nerd brigade, or a famous author, or a social media guru. Daydreaming. We all do it.
There’s always been a common theme in my daydreaming – I want excitement and adventure and sequins and glitter. I want to go hot air ballooning over the English Channel; wear petticoats on a Tuesday; drive to Vermont for pie. At least, that’s what I normally want .. so imagine my shock when today, for the very first time in the history of my entire existence, I briefly wished I was the complete opposite of all things wrapped up and sold as Kimli.
I had a meeting today that wasn’t an interview, but a golden opportunity handed to me on a silver platter presented by a guy in a tuxedo wearing white gloves and a discreet smile.
I don’t want to share any of the details, because they’re not mine to share – all I can say is that the idea on the table was a really interesting opportunity for someone to become a vital piece of a specific industry, and likely make a heaping pile of money while they’re at it.
And as much as I love being vital, taking on challenges, and spending heaping piles of money, I know I’m not what they’re looking for.
I wish it were otherwise. I wish I had a little less love for the written word, so I could put my literary dreams (technical writing is still literary, isn’t it?) aside to focus on the big new. I wish I was disciplined enough to set my own price and product, and repress my native disposition to go above and beyond the call of duty, because that would just take away from my work. I wish I was capable of the kind of professionalism required to fit in with the image they’re looking for; a worthy ambassador for the brand and a shining example of old school establishment and decorum.
But I’m not.
I know myself well enough (and have been told I need to respect all that I am) to know that I’m none of those things – at least, not to the level they require. I’m professional, but in my own unique way. I have trouble charging people at craft shows, let alone asking them to pay hundreds of dollars for me to provide what comes naturally to me any way. I don’t want to give up my way with words and love of instructional materials to work entirely in video, and .. well, I don’t look good in a suit. I actually feel kind of bad about that last one, because Interview Kimli is NOT a true representation of 9-to-5 Kimli – I clean up well, but only under duress and never more than a day at a time.
I know what the company is looking for, and I understand the opportunity and potential – and I also understand that it’s not me. I hesitate to say that I’m not good enough, but that’s pretty much how I feel – and it’s like someone offering you a wheelbarrow of gold bars if you can be Cinderella, but all you are is a magic mouse that makes her look good behind the scenes.
That’s me. I’m a magic mouse, not an indentured princess.
Most of the time, that’s fine – I don’t WANT to be the princess. Sure, most of that defiance comes from the sheer unlikelihood of my princess worth, but I’m okay with being a magical singing mouse. Most of the time. Today, I wanted to be the princess and take the wheelbarrow of gold .. but that wouldn’t be fair to me OR the company with the opportunity.
So I have to do what’s best for both of us, and keep looking for this mythical place that has wheelbarrows of gold for the crazy people who just want to make things a little more sparkly for everyone around them.
Sure would have been neat to be okay with being the princess, though.