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JOE
Reminder—our contract expires in 30 days.
He’s given me ninety- and sixty-day warnings to inform me he’s quitting. Apparently, the middle-of-the-night calls are ruining his marriage. Same negotiating tactic he used last year that resulted in a $25,000 raise. I’ve already decided to bump him to $120,000.
I delete the message and don’t think of it again.
3. Virginia
ANGEL WINGS MEET THE DEVIL
It’s the last hour of the last day of the Come Into Power weekend, an event I’ve paid $2000 to attend. Why? Because Will Power, the king of business coaching, is here in my home city, and I need his help to grow my plant whisperer business.
So when he yells out to the audience that he has time for one more hot seat, one more chance to volunteer for live, one-on-one coaching with him, I know I need to stand out like a sunflower in a field of daisies to be noticed in this crowd of a thousand.
“One more lucky entrepreneur is about to have their life changed!” Will Power barks into his invisible mic.
A thousand people yell, “Yeah!”
I cheer as loud as the people around me.
“I want to wrap up this exceptional day of learning with a coaching experience you will never forget.” He pumps his fists in the air. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah!” A thousand eager entrepreneurs pump our fists in the air.
“Female entrepreneurs, have I got your attention?”
A much quieter chorus fills the auditorium.
This is good.
“Female entrepreneurs with at least three years of sales, please stand.”
This is very good.
The lights come up a little, but not full on. I rise from my seat with confidence and look around. Fewer than a dozen of us are on our feet. The audience is easily ninety percent men, and so far the only woman who Will Power has invited to coach live asked for help to choose between her two businesses. It was fascinating to watch how he figured out which one stood the best chance of becoming successful and what she’d need to make that happen.
But none of it applied to me.
This is my opportunity—my now or never.
In a moment of divine inspiration, I pull my phone from the pocket of my A-line dress, hold my arm high in the air, and shine the flashlight right over my own head. No way he won’t see me.
Interrogate me, Mr. Power.
Will Power looks from his left to his right and makes eye contact with me. “You, in the spotlight. Nicely played. Shows courage and drive. Let’s get this done.”
I inhale a deep breath and walk with my head high, arms loose at my sides like I belong here.
I am a winner. I am making shit happen. Nothing will stop me from success.
I quote the mantra Mr. Power has us chant after each live coaching.
I reach him on the stage. Everything about him is bigger than life, from his height (reportedly, six foot four) to the breadth of his shoulders (twenty-three inches of pure muscle, according to an article inInc. magazine) to the power that radiates from him (nuclear). He reaches out his arm. I do the same, making certain my handshake is as firm as it can be inside his baseball glove–size hand.
A tingle of energy runs through my palm as our hands and eyes meet. I smile, feeling like he’s just transferred some of his magical business success genes straight into my body.
“What’s your name?”
