Yer Doin’ It, Broseph!
Or, “How a business proposal became a sacred glimpse of spiritual enlightenment.”
This photo approximates how I felt, although I think I probably looked a little angrier.
It was December 21st, 2018. It was a Friday. It was about 2:00pm EDT.
I had only a couple of hours to go until I was on vacation for the entire following two weeks. That’s right: two weeks—two full weeks—just me and my family and friends and songs and presents and food that I’ll regret in January.
It truly was the most wonderful time of the year. Until it absolutely wasn’t.
Enter the RFP
The request for proposal (RFP) appeared silently in my inbox, like a hungry owl or stalking jaguar.
It looked like any other email, but of course, an RFP is not like any other email. An RFP means action. An RFP means urgency. An RFP means I’m definitely not going to be on vacation for the next two weeks.
At this time in my life, I was a Business Development Manager, and one of my primary responsibilities was to manage these things. RFPs are a very common and important tool in B2B sales, but for those who may be unfamiliar, they basically look like this:
A company has a need that they think your company may be able to satisfy, so they send a package of specific requirements of what they’re hoping to accomplish, along with a list of questions seeking to understand how your company can satisfy those requirements.
This may sound simple enough, but these suckers can be really (insert big inhale) . . . something.
They can typically include hundreds (upon hundreds) of highly technical questions that require true subject matter expertise to address, and they tend to have a sprint-like timeline—a three week deadline is par for the course. Not to mention that the answers can’t just be “yes” or “no”—after all, this is a selling opportunity—so the responses need to be crafted with love and care if you’re hoping to be seriously considered.
My Christmas present RFP fit this mold quite well. It arrived that Friday, had a ton of questions, and was due on January 4th. I knew the moment that I saw it that I could kiss my time-off goodbye, but more than that (since I was the one managing the thing), I knew that I would be asking about a dozen other people to give up their vacations as well. Again, these things are complex and require a ton of expertise and coordination, so . . . ho ho ho!
A Glimpse of Enlightenment
I’m not embarrassed to say that my reaction was visceral and included nearly every element of fight, flight, and freeze. My face got hot and I (literally) saw red. I was both speechless and the living embodiment of every curse word I ever heard. I wanted to punch my computer. I wanted to quit. I wanted to identify the sonofagun responsible for issuing an RFP on the Friday before Christmas and making it due three days after New Year’s and, um, “tell them what I thought about that.”
Luckily, I had the wherewithal to do none of those things. In a shining moment of clarity, I decided to go for a quick run. This might seem irresponsible, given the urgency that RFPs require and the timing of this particular one, but I had enough mindfulness experience to recognize that I needed to cool off before I did anything else. After all, I was definitely not in the right mind to do anything very skillfully, so a run seemed like a much wiser path.
About a mile from my house, the most astonishing thing happened. A voice boomed from inside my own mind, delivering a singular sacred, profound, and ultimately liberating message:
“YER DOIN’ IT,
BROSEPH!”
“Broseph.” I have never called anyone “broseph” in my whole life—not before or since, and yet, the moment it arrived, an enormous weight was lifted from my shoulders.
What’s the story, morning glory?
During an interview by Tim Ferriss, meditation and mindfulness author and teacher, Sharon Salzberg, defines mindfulness as “the difference between what’s really going on, and the stories I’m telling myself about it”, and “Yer doin’ it, broseph!” was pointing exactly, precisely, and wonderfully to this very thing.
Said directly: that RFP didn’t cause all of that anger, stress, and worry that I was experiencing—my story about the RFP caused it.
If we look at the exact chain of events, we can see this pretty clearly. Again, here’s what happened:
I received an email.
That’s it. That’s all. That’s the only thing that happened.
Everything else that I described above was the result of the story I was telling myself about that email: that RFPs are monsters, that they require absolute urgency, that this one would ruin Christmas, that this one would cause me to ruin other peoples’ Christmases, that the person from the company who issued it was an awful person who hates Christmas and kicks puppies and will most certainly be visited by three ghosts in a couple of days, etc.—every last thought that caused me to suffer was due to the story I was telling myself.
I was, indeed, doin’ it, broseph.
The practice of mindfulness does a wonderful job of showing us that the quality of our experiences are directly related to the story we’re telling ourselves about them. If our story is hopeful, joyful, or peaceful, then we will most likely feel hopeful, joyful, or peaceful. If our story is heavy, anxious, or pessimistic, then we will most likely feel heavy, anxious, or pessimistic. I can imagine that this seems pretty obvious, and yet, you, me, and everyone everywhere are driven everyday to feeling shitty because of the stories that we tell ourselves, and very few of us take a moment to:
Notice that the unhelpful emotions that we’re experiencing are arising from our own thoughts—that we’re doing this, (broseph),
Identify–as best as we can—the thoughts that are behind this experience, and
Mindfully ask ourselves one simple question: IS THE STORY TRUE?
. . . because if my story isn’t true, then maybe I don’t have to experience the emotions and sensations that I’m tying to that story, especially if those sensations and emotions are unwelcome, unhelpful, or unproductive.
Spoiler alert: my story about that RFP was totally not true.
The magic of hearing “Yer doin’ it, broseph!” was in realizing that the pain I was feeling was self-made, and in doing so, realizing that I also have the power within my own mind to change this—to choose a different story. I have the power to create how I experience what happens in my life, whether that’s at work, in traffic, at the doctor’s office, during Christmas—wherever—and it all begins with recognizing the powerful role I play in creating my own experiences.
That RFP? It turned out to be fine. No one had to quit their job, no computers were punched, no Christmases were ruined. We were able to respond very effectively— and if I may say so myself—with a very clear-headed manager in the driver’s seat.
Life happens—that’s all it ever does—but it is up to each of us to determine how we want to be when what shows up is difficult, unexpected, or challenging, and it all starts with the astonishing realization that . . .
Sales Pitch
Listen, you don’t have to wait for Christmas to be ruined before you are able to recognize these things and operate much more effectively. This is a skill that can be learned and practiced. If you think that you, your organization, or the people in your organization could benefit (hint: they can), reach out to us here—we’re happy to help.