I waited patiently for my turn. I waited until I was a real, bona fide member. I waited until after the enemy had his turn with them–knowing that would be a short relationship with his temper. I waited and waited just like a good Southern Belle should. (Though I’m certain no one on Earth would call me that, people do tell me I’m quite patient.)
For two years I signed up, met all my responsibilities, and fully participated. I even pitched in and helped out all that I could. Both of those years, the leadership called me their unofficial assistant.
Last year, I got the shaft. Instead of a top-three choice—all that the form allows—I got a bottom-three choice. I’d have gladly listed my top twenty if I had known they would need to go that far down the list. It was my first year in this small leadership role. I figured it wouldn’t be too bad and that I’d pay my dues and earn my spot for the future. In researching the opportunity, I realized that there was no information on the web. How could I have been matched, in a technical sense, with someone who doesn’t even have a web site? Still, I marched on, put on a smile, and paid my dues. When it was over, I was honest with the head honcho about the process and the results. I even said, “but it’s all ok. I paid my dues and now I can move up the ladder.”
This year, I listed that top twenty and included a note that said I’d list more, if needed. It worked! I matched with someone I adore. I even got the sense that he selected me, and I know he selected my partner. Today the news came. Some shifting of things above meant moving me to another technical role with someone I’d never heard of. I didn’t mean to be harsh with our “boss” but I was. I said, “I’d rather not attend [the event] at all than to be in another [technical role].” Then, I back-pedaled and said I hated to be so blunt, but that last year was terrible for me, that I didn’t budget for the alternative because of our move to a new market and explained that every extra penny I have has gone into marketing. Even if I had the money to pay my way, the good spots are all taken.
In the end the “boss” understood. I have first right of refusal if there are any changes, but, at this late date, that isn’t likely to happen.
I guess it just wasn’t meant to be. That doesn’t mean I’m any less sad about it.
I hate that I gave it my all—mind, heart, and body—only to be so vastly under-served.