My dad has always had a home office, and when I was little I would sneak in and sit in his big leather swivel chair.  I would grab some paper out of Apple’s original printer, circa 1985, and write out memos to my pretend staff.  Then I would prop my elbows up on the glass desktop, look around, and yell for my sister to come in so I could fire her.

Make-believe office is more fun than real office.  The first time I had to actually fire someone, I couldn’t sleep the night before and I felt like a total hypocrite.  What business (pun slightly intended) did I have making these decisions and ruining someone’s day/week/life?  None, in my opinion.  Plus, people who fire other people are generally not liked by the people they fire.  And when this happened, I was not quite so far along in my development on the path of Not Needing Everyone to Like Me.  So it hurt.

A year and a half later I sat in the same office and interviewed people to hire.  And I still felt a little fraudish (new word).  I’m a grown-up behind a desk deciding who will be my assistant (not an “I am so important I need someone to fetch my coffee and pick up my Manolos” kind of way, but in a “Can you hold the toothpaste while I brush this kid’s teeth?” kind of way).  But I still feel like the little girl drawing butterflies on printer paper.  And there’s a part of me that wonders when I’m going to be unveiled as an impostor.

And yet I got to this chair on my own (and by “on my own” I of course mean ultimately only through God’s blessings), without hypnotizing (m)any people, and I’ve been here awhile.  For so long it was way easier for me to believe negative press about myself than anything good.  Always waiting for the other shoe to drop if things were going well.  Wondering when I would see that shadow of disappointment cross someone’s face.  But here I am, in a big-girl chair and a big-girl relationship and even big-girl tickets to West Side Story tonight in my big-girl city!  And I’m starting to believe that I’m not faking it.  That this life does fit me.  That (after six years of school and three years of working) I actually am good at what I do.  And at other things too, like washing dishes and being happy!

Take that down and send it out in a memo.  And call my sister in here.