Mud, Belonging and the Bamboo Fly rod

This was exactly Bill’s reaction when I told him (breathlessly I might add)

that we just won the Georgia Small Business Rock Star Award and have a banquet to look forward to as well.

He had a point.

And because I always know what I am going to wear, my reaction was very different.

I was simply stunned.

I knew we had been nominated for the award but logically assumed top honors were reserved for companies that made real money had conference rooms versus work benches and inspirational quotes on the walls versus 2 inches of bamboo dust EVERYWHERE.

In the months leading up to the banquet, the impostor syndrome (look it up)  crept in to my daily routine.

While I have always considered Oyster a personal victory…our business prowess  seems more illusive of a subject.

Do we belong in the mainstream world of business?

  

Bill doing “business”. PHOTO CREDIT: Robert Payne

“Business as usual” PHOTO: ROBERT PAYNE

 

So, off we went a car full of imposters to the Georgia Aquarium this past Monday to receive our award.

We belong.

Ummmm…then came the name tags, parking validation and a sea of rather nice dark suits without mud on them.

We do not belong.

Wait…there is a special door for “us special people” that leads to a special ballroom with special access to an area of the aquarium we have never been…we are special.

Okay, maybe we do belong.

Oh shit, There is the Governor of the State of Georgia.

Nope.  We don’t…

 

Honestly, until our name was announced and the film  of Oyster starting playing on this enormous screen (see link below or click here), I still  considered the possibility that this was a mistake  a simple misunderstanding…especially after hearing the other three winner’s stories (there were 4 categories…we were retail).

 

Fun fact:  I loathe speaking in front of ANYONE if it’s expected.  Karaoke on a random Wednesday at a local hang?  Fine.  Impromptu narrative about pretty much anything? No problem. But if I have to so much as introduce myself in a rehearsed fashion to a room of 2 people…I completely choke.  This is why, in part,  that Bill is also our “face guy” for all things scripted in nature.

So, when Bill went into his eloquent-as-usual, cooler-than-thou acceptance speech – I stood back and fell in love with him for the millionth time let him do his thing…until…

Bill threw me under the bus lovingly thanked me and insisted I say something.

Ouch.

And, here’s the deal.  I survived. I was okay.  I thanked the proper people and organizations (I think) and off I scrambled politely left the stage.

However, if I was able to prepare let alone actually speak to a room of 350 serious reputable people,  you bet there is a thing or two I would have said in my parallel universe concerning small business…ah, good ole hindsight.

Here goes: (after all off the appropriate amount of appreciation)

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“If you have a passion and the talent to back it up…morphing that devotion into a business is entirely possible.  

And not in an “all things are possible” type of approach.  

I respectfully say this in a “get out there, dig-in hard and stop placing obstacles in your path” kind of way.  

Your comfort zone will kill you.  

Habitually, move far beyond your self-imposed limitations. 

And when you have shattered your glass ceiling…go some more.

Dream big while preserving your original intent of freedom and legacy.”

IT WILL…

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Editor’s note:  this WAS the end of my beloved little blog…until…

So, late this evening, as I gathered Bill’s clothes up off the floor (shocker) preparing them for laundry, I could not help but admire what ended up his chosen attire:

Tweed, Howler Brothers shirt, Ledbury pants, Helm boots and a Patagonia belt…covered in MUD.

We belong.

slo

EDITOR’S NOTE: Oyster's original blog was on the oldie but goodie platform, Blogger, in 2009, before moving to WordPress. You may find a copy of this post on “The Bamboo Fly Rod Maker’s Widow” blog HERE. I have tried to preserve the integrity—or lack thereof—of each “Widow” post, especially to reflect the resources—or lack thereof—available at the time, as time and technology continue to freak me out evolve.