Sometimes You Just Need to Stay 30 Seconds Longer

The Confidence of Fourteen-Year-Old Jas

When I was 14 and wanted a job, I printed my résumé, walked into a business and handed it over.

Done.

No elaborate strategy.

No wondering whether I was being annoying.

No standing outside pretending to check my phone while internally conducting a full risk assessment.

Fourteen-year-old Jas wanted a job, so fourteen-year-old Jas walked in and asked for one.

Fast forward a few decades, and apparently we have made this process significantly more complicated.

Building a Business Takes Some Serious Tuckus-Busting

I am now building my own business.

And when you are building your own business, you bust your absolute tuckus.

You follow up leads.

You introduce yourself to strangers.

You write proposals.

You create pitch packs.

You post online, even when approximately seven people see it and two of them are related to you.

You put yourself into rooms where you know nobody.

You send the email, refresh your inbox and then tell yourself you definitely are not waiting for a response.

You keep planting seeds without knowing which ones, if any, are going to grow.

Then the Call Came

One day, I received a call from a woman we will call Sophie.

A local venue, literally very local, was planning a Melbourne Cup event and looking for an MC.

This was exactly the sort of opportunity I had been working towards.

I spoke with Sophie, came home and created a pitch pack that I was ridiculously proud of.

I emailed it through.

Technically, my work was done.

I had introduced myself, explained what I could offer and sent through a beautiful proposal.

All I needed to do was wait.

Unfortunately, waiting has never been one of my core strengths.

Sending the Pitch Pack Was Not Enough

I really wanted this gig.

So the following day, fourteen-year-old Jas reappeared.

“Print it out,” she said.

“Take it in.”

And honestly, she had a point.

The venue was across the road. I had already done all the work. Why wouldn’t I put a proper copy into Sophie’s hands?

So, off I went to Officeworks to print the pitch pack.

There may also have been a small detour involving a pair of hot neon green shoes, because apparently this was both a business development mission and a fashion emergency.

Pitch pack printed.

Shoes secured.

Confidence questionable.

The First Attempt

I made my way to the venue.

Then I stood outside.

And overthought absolutely everything.

What if Sophie thought I was pushy?

What if dropping it in looked desperate?

What if I interrupted them?

What if she had already read it?

What if she had not read it because she hated it?

What if she saw me hovering outside like a brightly dressed corporate stalker?

So I bailed.

I went home, still carrying the pitch pack I had specifically travelled to Officeworks to print.

Fourteen-year-old Jas would have been disgusted.

Two Days Later, I Tried Again

This time, I made it through the door.

I stood near the entrance, waiting for an opportunity to hand over the pitch pack and escape before my brain could produce another 46 reasons why I should not be there.

A man approached me.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “I’m not waiting. I’m just awkwardly dropping this off for Sophie….”

A sentence that really captures the confidence and professionalism of business ownership.

He went looking for Sophie but could not find her.

Enter My Ridiculously Glamorous Neighbour

While this was unfolding, I spotted my ridiculously glamorous neighbour, who we will call Amelia, sitting with her mum.

Now, Amelia is one of those women who always looks incredible.

She is effortlessly stylish, beautifully put together and exactly the sort of person you develop an immediate girl crush on while reconsidering everything currently hanging in your own wardrobe.

We started chatting.

Styling tips were exchanged.

My confidence returned slightly.

Plot Twist: He Was the Owner

Then I discovered that the man who had apologised for keeping me waiting was not simply a helpful staff member.

He was the owner.

We will call him Marcus.

And suddenly, instead of dropping off a pitch pack and quietly disappearing, I was sitting down with the venue owner discussing the event.

Aperol Spritzes were ordered.

Ideas started flowing.

I spoke about how we could make the day feel special, how we could create energy around the event and how we could help it really land.

I may have made approximately 40 billion promises about everything I could do to make it amazing.

This is what happens when I become excited.

My mouth begins pitching ideas faster than the rest of me can record them.

Sophie Walked Into an Accidental Interview

Then Sophie arrived.

She had absolutely no idea I was there.

She had no idea her boss and I were already sitting together discussing the event.

And she now appeared to be getting interviewed by her own boss about a proposal I had sent her.

She looked understandably blindsided.

So I hugged her.

Because apparently physical affection is my crisis-management strategy.

Thankfully, she handled the entire ambush beautifully.

We talked, laughed and continued discussing what the event could become.

Eventually, I walked back across the road wondering how I had gone from being too nervous to enter the venue to drinking Aperol with the owner and discussing a full vision for Melbourne Cup.

The Difference Was 30 Seconds

I have thought about that afternoon a lot.

Two days earlier, I could not walk through the door.

I had done the work.

I had created the pitch pack.

I had printed it.

I had travelled there.

I had even purchased the neon shoes.

Yet I still panicked and went home.

The second time, I stayed.

That was the difference.

Thirty seconds.

I stayed put for 30 seconds longer, and the entire experience changed.

Eventually, the Hard Work Begins to Connect

I think that is an important part of building a business that we do not always talk about.

You work incredibly hard, often without any immediate proof that it is working.

You send messages that receive no response.

You attend events that lead nowhere obvious.

You create content that barely seems to move.

You build proposals you may never hear about again.

You keep showing up while privately wondering whether anybody has noticed.

Then, eventually, something connects.

A conversation leads somewhere.

Someone remembers your name.

An opportunity appears across the road.

The proposal you poured yourself into becomes a seat at the table.

The hard work does begin to pay off, but rarely in the neat or predictable way you imagined.

Maybe This Is the Path

Sometimes the breakthrough is not another qualification, a better plan or a sudden burst of fearlessness.

Sometimes you simply need to stay put for 30 seconds longer and see what happens.

Maybe that is the path.

Not exactly the one you planned, but possibly exactly the one you were meant to take.

And if, along the way, you meet incredible people, order an Aperol Spritz and receive styling advice from your ridiculously good-looking neighbour, even better.

Sometimes the universe puts us exactly where we are meant to be.

Aperol, neon shoes and all.

Go easy. Grow steady.