On strengths and weaknesses...

I had an interesting sit down with my boss this week. Since I started with her over two years ago, we've had a very tight knit relationship. The last few months, however, have been particularly challenging. I've found my already hotheaded Irish self getting more and more worked up around her, frustrated with the things she's asking me and my staff to swallow and how overly accommodating she can be with our more unreasonable colleagues.

At the same time, I've always been able to see what a tough spot she's in, and how she's really just trying to make everybody happy.

Of course, that's usually the kiss of death. You can never make everybody happy. And I certainly have not been happy in the job as of late.

But in the last week, she made a few comments in passing that, perhaps on their own, really weren't all that bad. But, taken together, I started to feel like I may be falling out of favor.

Exchange 1:

"I don't think his reaction to you was appropriate," she said, defending me after a rough exchange with a colleague.

"I appreciate that," I responded, "but I can't blame him for getting angry and reacting. I'm guilty of the same thing."

"Well, you both need to stop."

Exchange 2:

"What's wrong with me?" she asked. "What am I doing that's so wrong?"

"I've always been honest with you," I replied, "The only sin I ever seen in you is you're overly accommodating. But you're in a tough position, anyone can see that, and I understand why you bend over backwards. But I've always told you that."

"Oh yes, you have. If anything, you're direct. For better or for worse."

Exchange 3:

"I know I'm just screaming at the wall, and I'm sorry," I tried to calm down after a furious reaction to a request coming from the very top she was communicating to me, "But at the end of the day I have to stand up for my staff."

"Well, at the end of the day you also need to remember you're management."

Taken alone, maybe each of these isn't so bad. Taken together, and within days of each other, I started to feel like we were no longer peas and carrots.

So I called her on it. Asked her if I'd done anything wrong. Pleaded that if there was something she felt I was handling inappropriately, she had to tell me. "I'm still young (kind of). I can still be corrected. I don't want to go through my career making the same mistake. I want to learn how to be better. Tell me when I can handle something better. It's the only way I'm going to learn."

It was actually a great conversation. Sure, she mentioned she wished I wouldn't get so worked up over things. Sure, she mentioned sometimes the way I argue drives her nuts. Yes, she even said, "Sometimes I just want to tell you to shut up". I, of course, responded with, "That's ok. I feel the same way about you."

But the conversation was 97% complementary. About my tremendous work ethic, my passion, my intelligence. It meant a lot to me. "I appreciate that you're direct. I appreciate that you fight back. I love that you don't roll over. It does me no good if you just roll over."

I keep playing these words over and over again in my mind. Not because they're particularly profound or are things I'm surprised that she said. Simply put, I just don't know when I became this person.

You couldn't have created a more shy little girl - teenager - college student - than yours truly. My voice quivered when called upon in class or when I became the subject of conversation with friends. If blushing were a sport, I would have been 4 year captain, all county, all state, All American. And I've always hated confrontation. I've certainly never condoned challenging authority. I'm your classic goody two shoes who only learned how to misbehave when I was issued my first credit card.

So when did I become this little spitfire?

Granted, I clearly need to become acquainted with the notion of balance. Lately, I feel like I've been angry more than I'm not, and there's just no reason for it. But it's nice to know that I've finally found the strength to fight back and advocate for my team. It's nice to know that, though I'd still contend in the Olympics for blushing, that you can never accuse me of backing down. And I think I'm reasonable, overall. I think I spare my friends and family from it (for the most part); I think I just need to learn to pick my battles in the workplace.

I'm sad I can't pinpoint the moment when it all changed, but I'm nevertheless grateful for its occurrence. I still love that little girl who starts to shake when the teacher calls on her; I wouldn't be who I am today without her. But I also love that that girl can now speak to a room of 600 without breaking a sweat, direct 2 weekly meetings with staff younger and older than her, and sit in a meeting with a bunch of hoity toity academics, both older and wiser than her, and not take them as seriously as they take themselves.

All I need to do now is find the happy medium.