|
Leslie
Goldman was a vision. Her neatly cropped Dorothy Hamill haircut,
conservative tortoise-shell glasses and delicate retainer did well
to hide the fire and passion that I knew boiled just beneath those
polyester threads.
Near
the end of fifth grade at Woodview Elementary School, a failed 1970's
"open school" experiment where you called your teacher by their
first name, my friend Darryn Chupp told me that Dean Buntley told
him that Leslie Goldman told Jenni Burton that she thought I was
nice.
I had
spent fourth and fifth grade at Woodview doing two things: trying
to avoid calling my teacher "Dave", and writing "Leslie
Goldman" on every spare inch of paper I could get my hands on. One
day, Mr. Norris... er Dave
asked me to stay after class
to discuss a recent math test. A decent student, I wondered if he
would be asking me to be "lead mentor" when the first graders came
by for their next visit. Much to my embarrassment, Dave (man,
I still hate saying it) had discovered that I did not turn in my
math test at all. He did, however, have two tests with the name
Leslie Goldman at the top. So consumed by this crush, I had written
Leslie's name at the top of my own test leaving a humbling paper
trail for Mr. Norris to discover.
The
last day of fifth grade was a day I had looked forward to all year.
Soon I would grace the hallowed halls of Hubert H. Humphrey Middle
School, leaving childhood behind for the challenges and excitement
of junior high school. In the meantime, Darryn and I had big plans
for the summer. With lawn-mowing jobs lining up and a verbal contract
with Mrs. Henning to feed and walk her dog Blinky, our revenue forecast
looked bright and our Velcro wallets would be well-lined for whatever
awaited us. After learning Leslie's feelings toward me, I was sure
that this would be a summer to remember.
The
final activity of fifth grade was to meet at the "Learning Tree"
and share with Dave and our classmates something special
about the year gone by. One by one we sat in the center bean bag
(it's hard to believe that these types of experimental schools
were funded by our government in those days) and spoke about
events, friends, and teachers who had made an impact on us during
the year. Dean Buntley remarked on how cool it was to be able to
call our teacher Dave (what a kiss-ass!), Jenni stated how
happy she was when she could start wearing sandals to school, and
Darryn, the budding entrepreneur, reiterated the verbal contract
we had with Mrs. Henning. When it was my turn to share, I could
feel the blood racing through my veins... the noise around me diminished
as I gained the focus I needed to publicly respond to what Darryn
had told me that Dean told him that Jenni told him that Leslie told
her. Scanning the room, my eyes fixed on Leslie and I cleared my
throat....
"Someone
thinks I'm nice..."
That
was my pitch... Dave knew what I meant... Darryn knew what
I meant... Jenni knew what I meant. I could only hope that the lovely
Leslie Goldman realized that I had stepped into the bright light
for her and laid out my best offer.
By
fifth grade standards, my remarks were the equivalent of a million-dollar
proposal. I had one shot to make my pitch and there was no turning
back. Perhaps in your most recent job interview or at your last
client pitch you felt the same way I did. We live and die by the
crushes that consume us in our professional lives. For example,
how many times have you compiled lists of "ideal clients" or the
"ideal companies to work for" yet never pursued? Do crushes ever
prevent you from pursuing your dreams? Is it the risk of failing
that makes us content to just simply maintain our crushes? In these
challenging times, many of us are searching for new jobs, new business
opportunities, and new careers. Hours are spent on monster.com or
reading the latest issue of Fast Company and on most days, it feels
like you're just pining away for that perfect job description. This
is a time when we must manufacture our own crushes. Leslie Goldman
isn't just going to be in your fifth grade class anymore.
A couple
of weeks into summer vacation, I was walking back from Darryn's
house after a day of mowing lawns. I had taken the long way home
with the hope of seeing Leslie and finding out if she had made a
decision about my proposal. As I approached her house, I could feel
my heart pounding in my chest the same way I had felt on the last
day of school. Leslie was sitting in a swing on the front porch
as if she was expecting my visit. Walking towards her I mustered
enough courage to say, "Hi, this is a cool porch." (smooth.... huh.)
Leslie, looked at me and asked, "would you like to sit down?" THIS
WAS IT! The girl of my dreams had accepted my proposal! I had written
her name a thousand times over the past two years hoping a day like
today would happen. Without a word, I sat next to her. A feeling
of confidence overcame me. The fear of being crushed had been erased
in an instant by a few simple words. I gently slid my hand over
hers and we sat staring at the street. We were together.
Looking
back on my afternoon in that beanbag, I realize how this crush had
become my entire world and I had to take a risk in order to move
on with my life... with or without Leslie Goldman. Who or what do
you have a crush on? Take a chance, it's worth finding out where
it might lead.
|