Who are you before you are everything to everybody?

 

I recently attended a huge conference in Frankfurt, Germany. I don't even know how many people from my own agency went, but it was a lot. Some of us spoke at different panels, some of us just attended, and some of us were there in spirit but had to meet with others who also happened to be at the conference. And that was just during the day. In the evening, there were other social (but really work-related) dinners and get-togethers that were just as important. While many of these seem spontaneous, nothing is. Everything had to be planned for everyone. And let's not even talk about the preparation that had to happen before the trip, with everything that's involved in going overseas. It's literally a months-long process.

What's amazing is that the whole thing was executed with "Mission Impossible"-like precision, basically by one person. Let's call her Lucy.

Just based on my experience alone, Lucy would run planning meetings starting at least two months in advance, with a cadence that increased in frequency as the date drew nearer. The PowerPoint presentation included everything that you'd ever need to know to make it to Frankfurt alive, register for the conference and be as productive as your jet-lagged brain would allow you to be.

The details were so granular and precise that I even recall Lucy telling us to withdraw at least $100 worth of Euro from a local ATM in the lobby of the hotel because German retailers don't often take credit cards and also to use a specific card because it doesn't charge exchange fees, which I did. I also remember getting a text to check on me whether I made it into the hotel safely and then texts before each panel to ensure that I knew where to go. In short, Lucy ran a play-by-play executive coaching service throughout the whole thing. She did this not just for me but for everyone on that trip. In short, she was everything to everyone.

Did I appreciate her? Maybe. If I were being honest, I probably took her for granted more than appreciated what she was doing to handhold me so that I could succeed. However, there was one morning when I ran into her during breakfast. At that moment, in between mouthfuls of runny eggs and foamy coffee, I just had to pause and see her, perhaps for the first time in the many years I worked with her.

I saw her not just as a passing colleague doing her job. I became curious about the person behind the job. Who was Lucy? Why was she doing all this? Why did she feel as if she had to be uber-responsible for everyone? Why was she carrying the weight of the success of this conference on her shoulders? I mean, I have organized and run large events before in my previous lifetime, and they are not fun. In fact, event planning and execution are soul-crushing. But what Lucy was doing was above and beyond anything I had ever witnessed, let alone experienced.

Was Lucy just a driven professional who had to constantly excel? Was Lucy a perfectionist who couldn't bear to see anything out of place? Was she a mother hen type who wanted all under her care to do the best that they could? Was she like this with her own family, always taking care of the thousands of visible and invisible things for each child so that they can grow and thrive? What is it that she's actually doing? Is she empowering? Is she enabling? Is she curating? Is she cheerleading? Whatever she was doing — and however it's perceived by the beneficiaries — Lucy was doing one thing for sure: she was taking it on single-handedly.

All these thoughts were churning inside my head as we engaged in pleasant and polite banter about work and family. I did dance around my central curiosity and asked questions that enquired about her tangentially. But the question that I really wanted to ask was this: "Who are you before you are everything to everybody?"

I know, I know. I hate this type of question because it's dangerously close to asking about the "true self," as if there is an eternal, unchanging essence that defines who someone is. We all play different roles to different people because who we are is a function of the relationship and context we have with that person. I guess what I really wanted to know from Lucy was, "How can you lean in so much without falling over? When do you feel like it's OK to let things fall as they may without having to course correct? When do you know that someone just cannot be rescued or saved from their own incompetence or demons? When can you unburden yourself from such an Atlantean sense of responsibility for everyone? When do you find a place to just be without worrying about someone else? Is that even possible?"

But maybe all these questions were just my own guilt masquerading as curiosity for not appreciating her as much as she deserves, and they can simply be boiled down to one thing that I really wanted to say: "Thanks, Lucy. For everything. You rock."

Jason Lim (jasonlim@msn.com) is a Washington-based expert on innovation, leadership and organizational culture. The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect The Korea Times’ editorial stance.