This carried on for a decade as I continued to crawl up the ladder in my career, until one day when I reached the very top. At the top, the intimidators who I encountered made most of the others I had met previously seem like golden retrievers. These ones were exceptionally prickly. I had grown so much not only as a leader, but as a woman. My team admired and respected me, and it was time for me to expect the same from my intimidators. It all came to head with a crucial conversation, one on one, face to face, planned and scheduled. I had many talks with myself to and from work reciting in my head how it would all go down. I kept reminding myself that I failed to rise to the occasion when I had been given many opportunities in the past, and I remembered how crushed I felt when I chickened out.
I started to think about who I was to my team, as their leader. I knew this was the conversation I wouldn’t back down from because I wasn’t just doing it for me, I was doing it for them. They were worth the fear and discomfort. I was as ready as I could be to the point that I didn’t even care if I got fired because I believed in the message I was about to deliver with every ounce of my being. That day, that conversation, I white-knuckled it like a champ and I spoke my truth. It wasn’t easy. It was intense, and we had a difference of opinion. I got cut off in mid-sentence repeatedly and the person who I was speaking with was dishonest at times and not willing to budge. This time I didn’t back down. I never raised my voice, but I was direct, and I drove my point home until there was a small glimpse of compromise. When it was over, to say I left the room with the biggest smile on my face would be an understatement. I was free.
From that point forward I would never hold back again. It took me getting to the top to truly find my voice. There was no one else to go into that room, people were counting on me. It was my job to show up and I did it my own way— composed, authentic, constructive and specific. But the real lesson was, I realized I no longer needed to be at the top. Since that day I have had many opportunities to practice using my voice and I wholeheartedly embrace those moments as I continue to grow and find comfort in the discomfort. I have learned how to pick my battles wisely, and I believe once you are truly secure you don’t need armour when bullets are being thrown at you because things and people can no longer hurt you. That's the place we're all striving to get to, but I’m not sure if anyone gets there fully.