I wake up, barely, and sloth my way through the apartment. I make a cup of coffee, check my phone for any late-night emails, texts, or breaking news. I finally open my email to find an endless amount of work messages, in addition to spam advertising Valentine’s Day flower arrangements, discount sheets, and a way to save a million dollars this year. Do I make a million dollars in a year? It takes me a moment to get through to my sleep-warped brain that I do not and that this advertisement is probably not right for me.
I rest on the email from my manager’s associate regarding my schedule for today: “Fitting for fashion show, noon, make-up for evening fashion show, one thirty, hair for fashion show, three thirty, car to fashion show, five thirty. On breaks, two work calls, write several blogs, cure Alzheimer’s, write a pop song and call your mother. Have a good day!”
It seems far too early to be alive, despite 10 hours of sleep. I brush my teeth, go through my strict moisturizer regimen and march my way into my closet trying not to wake my husband or puppy.
After selecting the right outfit for driving, and garment-bagging my outfit change for the night’s fashion show, I’m ready to ship off to Starbucks and the sparkling gem of a city that is Manhattan. I quietly shake my husband awake, wish him luck at today’s meeting and rub my puppy’s ears. Off I go, looking like a mix between an Olsen twin, Edward Scissorhands, and a furry tree elf.
While I sit in my chair at my manager’s office, I’m eating a Greek salad and fisting a giant coffee. I’m having my hair teased and whipped into my standard pompadour by the only man who knows me well enough to know what my hair should be based on my mood and wardrobe. I’m having my eyebrows darkened by one of my three go-to make-up artists, talking a mile a minute to my manager about upcoming appearances and opportunities while her associates take notes and offer intel on locations and times. I’m also writing emails of my own with my pinky while my phone is in my lap.
This whole process of beautifying and scheduling, cars and E-ZPass, credit cards and messengers, is all so I can attend a fashion show for 15 minutes, ogle some gorgeous clothes on too-thin models, and take some photos for the press of the world before running home to my pajamas and an episode of “Homeland.”
While sitting in my chair, with never fewer than four people around me, I started to think about my team and how I couldn’t do anything without them. I have different teams for different jobs and parts of my life – as do you, and each person plays such an integral role in the success or failure of your day. From the goodbye kiss on the cheek to my husband, to the barista being in a good mood, to my manager stating the proper time to be somewhere, to my make-up artist not forgetting what version of white my skin is, all the moments add up to your day and can fail miserably if you’re missing a portion of your team.
The people we surround ourselves with are the ones who help us rise to the occasion, to be truly great. While my day is very different from the person who cleans the bathrooms at the venue I’ll be partying at, and both our stories are different from Obama’s, at the end of the day we all made it through because of the people around us, and their ability to help guide, direct and protect.
Bottom line, you should always respect those around you and their role of importance in your life. It may not always be easy to realize the assets you’re surrounded by, even if at first they may seem a negative influence, but the one constant is that they help you to become what you are on a daily basis. Your team is everyone, and everyone is on.