I had a meeting at 4 p.m. today with some clients who need web work. Let's just say, I used to work for the... entity... from whom they (my client) are from... and when I worked there... I was known as a bit of a cowboy. I hate red tape. Loathe it. I was more along the lines of a person who begged forgiveness, rather than asked permission. Honestly... if I did the latter, I'd never get anything done.
So I left said entity... and became one of their biggest freelancers. When these clients come calling, they rec.all for me a time in my life that is now past (when I was married, and said xH also worked for said x-entity).
I always thought that my... reputation was built upon my xH's. You know? They knew him, so they knew me... I was a corporate wife... anything I got was because of him...
But. It turns out... that is surprisingly, not the case. I actually have people who know and like me and respect me, at least professionally, for whatever it is I seemed to have accomplished while at said entity.
Case in point, today's meeting. And given my job and that I have been doing it for some time, I know a few things about this and that. I so love it when a young whipper snapper (whom I admire very much, btw), comes up against me and starts putting me through my paces... because, by golly, I'm not doing things HIS way and it is HIS server.
Now. I've done this countless times before. It's okay. And I defer whenever possible, especially in big meetings, because I don't like giving a puppy an ear wax in public. But he just kept pushing and being almost disrespectful about things. So. In a very... non-Corri like, non-pointy-witch shoes kind of way... I lead this young pup to his own demise. For in my mind, he gave me know choice... he was trying to make an azz of me, and pimp himself up, if you kwis.
I don't like going head-to-head with professionals in a professional setting and purposely stripping anyone of their dignity... but when someone attacks... and seems to have to sense of respect coming this way... believe it or not... I do have a silky smooth, non-pointy witch shoes way of coming back. So I did.
Which kind of made me feel bad. In mid-stride, he said to me... do you know such and such, and so and so? Me: Well yeah, of course I do. Him. Well they said you were a bit of a cowboy. Me. Yippe Cayyaeah. He laughed. We got to talking about people, places, things... in this meeting, where no one else knew what we were talking about... and I sez... I'd very much like to continue this convo with you. Perhaps over lunch sometime. But I think we need to get back to x, y, z, so these kind people here can go home.
Blah, blah, blah.
So. The point in all this was... I knew... know... some very interesting people in my town... who remember me for me... not as someone's extension (who, btw, always said, was HIS name that people knew me for who I was...). And this little side convo was kind of a jolt for me. How far down I had gotten in my self-esteem... thinking that when I left my M... no one would want to know me... or know about me... or who I was, or what I had become. Basically, I had withdraw from my own little society... based upon a truth I had never thought to challenge.
Last weekend I went to dinner in a restaurant and saw two people with whom I had been very good friends when I was at dinner. They came over to me... hellos, hugs and kisses all over the place. I was... literally... stunned. She even said to me, "let's get together."
I went home and told the boys who I had seen, and what had happened, and my youngest said to me... "oh... they still talk to you?"
Me: "Yeah... why would you even ask such a thing?"
YS: "They are dad's friends."
Me: "They are my friends, too, and they can talk to me, just as they talk to your dad, and that's okay."
YS: "Not according to dad."
Me: "I'm sorry your dad sees it that way."
And I don't even think it's according to their dad. More along the lines of 'dad's' family. Another story.
Long way of saying... tonight, after work... I started sending out emails to people I used to work with, people whom I once considered friends... that I actually liked spending time with... even new people I had met, but maybe didn't know so well, but seemed to have an affinity for... just saying hello... maybe see if they wanted to do lunch, or dinner, or a drink, just to gab, catch up...
and it felt good.
I reached out, on my own, not worrying if anyone writes back... but sure that someone will, at some point. Plant a seed, kind of thing.
I'm not someone's echo. I'm me. I have my own things, that people like, that they want to know... beyond my x spouse, who was very good at what he did... but so was I, in my own right.
I was very, very good. So much so... they called me Cowboy.
