Really??

There are crazy people out there… well, crazy by my diagnosis. (I got my medical degree online, so I’m allowed to make these kinds of diagnoses.)

I have often found myself standing in that moment, you know, that awkward, pausing moment we all experience when someone does or says something beyond ridiculous.

It happened again and I have to share… (cause this same thing has happened a few times now and I want to know if maybe I’m the crazy one in this scenario)

So, I’m a Speaker who helps people “get unstuck”.  After a speaking engagement people call or email me to set up a meeting to gain more of my great insights and wisdom. (who wouldn’t, I’m awesome… and very humble).

But I digress, that is not the point of the story, the point of the story is this: I stand in front of a room of people that very often number over a hundred. (get a mental picture of this for a second so I can really get you to my side of the playground when I make my point… Mental image: one person in front of the room (me), over a hundred people make up “the room”, got the image? okay, on with the story).  I do my speech… I’m awesome… there’s laughter… there’s tears.   I’m done speaking, now there’s the Q&A portion of the night.  Then, after that, there’s the “meet and greet” portion where people come up and talk to me more privately (but not so private really, cause there’s a line of people right behind them).  All great so far.

Wait for it… the craziness hasn’t happened… yet.

I speak a few times a week to different groups of people… now the calls and emails start and I scheduled to meet with people.

Scene: Startbucks at Streets of Woodfield… (aka the “Hottie” Starbucks cause there are always good looking well dressed professionals there).

Time 10:00am, right on time to meet with “Herbert” (name has been changed to protect the “innocent”).

10:00: I enter and get my Carmel Frappuccino (who doesn’t want dessert in the morning?), scout out the good looking people and pick a table.

10:07: Check the time… answer some texts and emails on my BlackBerry. (still enjoying my Frappuccino).

10:17: Have my laptop out now and am getting some work done, called “Herbert” got his voicemail.  Didn’t leave a message. (I’m not sure why, I think I assumed… I’m not sure what I was thinking actually, I just chose not to leave a message.)

10:21: Started chatting with the guy (aka “Hottie”) at the table next to me.

10:40: Decided that was long enough, was done with my Caramel Frappuccino anyway, so I sent “Herbert” an email and  packed up and left.

MY email:

Hey, Scott oh, I mean “Herbert” (just kidding, his name wasn’t Scott either, I just wanted to use that typing feature),

I was at the Starbucks at Streets of Woodfield today at 10:00 like we had scheduled.  I understand something must have come up for you, hopefully you had an interview or a networking meeting that will help move you forward in your job search.  Let me know what your schedule looks like and we can set up another time to meet.

Have a good day,

Wendy

10:40-11:25: my commute home, yes, 45 minute commute each way.

Herbert’s reply:

I was there.  Why didn’t you find me?  I don’t appreciate taking the time to drive all the way out there to meet with you.

(That was it… not even a salutation, no “good bye”, no “thank you”, no “sorry for the misunderstanding” and “drive all the way out there” to meet me?!  I’m the one who drove all the way out THERE.  And for the record, I met you half-way, my friend.)

*awkward pausing moment* “REALLY”?!

Remember the mental image: me verses over a hundred.  (multiply that by all the speaking engagements I have each week).

Um, Hello… Herbert, I don’t know what YOU look like!

And I am certainly not going to walk around the Hottie Starbucks asking people if they are Herbert.   It is your job to find me, not the other way around.  You set up the meeting with me, I drove 45 minutes to meet you (for free).  You saw my face for close to two hours, have my picture on my brochure, my website, my LinkedIn site… you know who I am.

*Breathe*

Here’s the “thing”, I get that even with all of that, Herbert might not have recognized me (I find that hard to believe because I look the same this week as I did last week.  Plus, last week I ran into someone I went to High School with – a million years ago – and he recognized me). I get that confusion and misunderstandings happen, that’s life.  But to turn it around on me made me have one of those awkward pausing moments where there was nothing else to say but: really?

Or maybe I’m insane.