Apparently I’m the Adult

There are a lot of things nobody tells you about moving up in your career.

More responsibility? Expected.

More meetings? Unfortunately.

More emails that somehow involve six people trying to answer a question that should have taken thirty seconds? Absolutely.

But apparently, there’s another requirement nobody bothered to mention.

PUBLIC SPEAKING

Excuse me?

I went to school. I earned two degrees. I worked my way into a leadership position. I have spent years learning how to manage people, solve problems, and keep things running without completely losing my mind.

At no point did anyone mention that I would eventually be expected to stand in front of a room full of people and willingly become the center of attention.

I would’ve like to have seen that in the job description.

Preferably in bold.

With a warning label.

Apparently Confidence Has Terms and Conditions

Here’s the thing, I’m not afraid to talk to people.

I work in HR and operations. Talking to people is quite literally part of my job. I can have difficult conversations, handle uncomfortable situations, and sit in meetings discussing things that would make most people want to crawl under their desks.

I can make decision. I can give advice. I can tell someone something they probably don’t want to hear.

But put me in front of a group of people who are all staring at me, waiting for me to speak?

Suddenly, I’ve forgotten how to be a functioning adult.

What do I do with my hands? Why does my voice sound weird? Am I talking too fast? Why is everyone looking at me?

Oh, right.

BECAUSE I’M THE ONE TALKING.

I genuinely don’t understand people who enjoy public speaking.

You know those people who volunteer to present? The ones who walk to the front of the room smiling, completely relaxed and somehow manage to make eye contact with everyone?

Who hurt you?

I’m kidding.

Mostly.

The Preparation Is Almost Worse

When I know I have to give a presentation, I don’t just prepare.

I prepare to prepare.

I think about what I’m going to say. Then I think about how I’m going to say it. then I think about all the possible ways I could completely embarrass myself while saying it.

It’s a very productive use of my time.

And naturally, my brain likes to come up with scenarios that have absolutely no business entering the conversation.

What if I lose my place?

What if someone asks a question I wasn’t expecting?

What if I say something that makes absolutely no sense and everyone just sits there politely pretending it did?

Or my personal favorite. What if I suddenly forget a word I’ve been using for approximately forty years?

You know, something complicated.

Like spreadsheet.

Meanwhile, the logical part of my brain is trying to remind me that I actually know what I’m talking about.

Which is great.

Unfortunately, the irrational part of my brain has apparently scheduled a meeting and invited everyone.

Apparently a Job Title Doesn’t Come With a New Personality

One of the funniest things about getting older and moving up in your career is realizing that the people in charge are still just people.

I remember begin younger and assuming that anyone with a fancy title must have everything figured out.

Directors. Executives. Partners. People who wore nice clothes and spoke confidently in meetings.

Surely they knew exactly what they were doing.

Now I’m a director.

And let me tell you something.

We’re all just figuring things out with slightly more expensive responsibilities.

Don’t get me wrong. I know how to do my job, and I’m proud of the career I’ve built.

But there are still moments when someone asks me a question and I think. That’s a really good question. I wonder who we should ask.

Then I remember.

Oh.

Me.

I’m the person we’re asking.

Wonderful.

And apparently, once you reach a certain point in your career, people expect you to be comfortable doing things that have absolutely nothing to do with why you got into the field in the first place.

Like giving presentations.

Leading large meetings.

And somehow having an intelligent response ready when someone says, “Can you just say a few words?”

A FEW WORDS ABOUT WHAT?

I need context. I need preparation. I need approximately three to five business days.

Please don’t just hand me a microphone and hope for the best.

The Actual Presentation

The funny thing is, when I have to speak in front of people, I know the material. That’s rarely the problem.

The problem is that my brain treats the situation like I’m about to perform at Madison Square Garden instead of talking to a group of adults about something work related.

And these are adults I work with!

People I’ve had normal conversations with. People I’ve laughed with. People I’ve probably emailed fifteen times that morning.

But suddenly, because we’re all sitting in a room and I’m standing in front of them, my brain decides this is a completely different situation.

It’s like my confidence has a very specific set of rules.

One-on-one conversation? Absolutely.

Difficult employee situation? I’ve got it.

Making a decision that affects the office? No problem.

Standing in front of people with a PowerPoint presentation?

I’d like to use a sick day

And can we talk about PowerPoint for a second?

Why does a slideshow somehow make everything feel more official and terrifying?

It’s just information on a screen. Information I probably put there myself.

But the second someone says, “Next slide, please,” I feel like I’m participating in a congressional hearing.

Apparently This Is What Career Growth Looks Like

I recently finished my MBA, which is something I’m incredibly proud of.

Between working full-time, being a single mom, and managing everyday life, going back to school wasn’t exactly a relaxing hobby.

But I did it.

And now I have two degrees and a director title.

You’d think all that education and experience would have cured my fear of public speaking.

Nope.

Apparently, you can earn an MBA and still be personally victimized by a conference room.

And that’s something I wish people talked about more.

You can be good at your job and still have things that make you uncomfortable.

You can be confident in your abilities and still dread certain responsibilities.

You can be the person everyone comes to for answers and still occasionally wonder how you became the adult in charge.

None of those things magically disappear because your title changes.

The only difference is that now you have to look professional while internally questioning your life choices.

Which, honestly, should be listed as a leadership skill.

So Apparently I’m the Boss. That’s Concerning.

At the end of the day, I love what I do. I love that I’ve built a career I can be proud of, especially considering how many different directions my life has taken.

But I also think it’s hilarious that somewhere along the way, I became the person who’s supposed to walk into a room, take charge, and confidently address a group of people.

Becuase internally?

I’m still hoping nobody calls on me.

And if I do have to give a presentation, I’ll prepare, I’ll practice, I’ll probably overthink it approximately 47 times.

Then I’ll stand up, say what I need to say, and hopefully look like someone who has done this before.

Afterward, I’ll return to my office, breathe a sigh of relief, and congratulate myself for surviving something that other people apparently do vuluntarily.

Then I’ll open my email.

And there will probably be another meeting invitation.

With the words:

“Would you mind presenting?”

Yes.

Yes, I would mind.

But apparently I’m the adult.

And apparently that’s part of the job.

I’d still like to speak to whoever approved this. 😂