What's Hard about Amazon

Hi Stephen. I'm sorry it's been so long. I've had a blog for seven years, and every year, I've spoken to you on your birthday. My tardiness is inexcusable, but I always come to you to talk - especially in my angsty teenage days. I'm no longer angsty, but I still think about you, and our family. I was talking about us at a work event today, and I told everyone I had five siblings, one who passed before his time. I'm sure you're doing very exciting things in Heaven, but I still like to think that you have an ear when I'm talking to you. I remember that because of your suffering, and the suffering of our parents, I'm blessed to be alive, and I don't take that for granted.

I've struggled in many areas of my life, rejection and loneliness being the ones that come to mind. But I've never struggled with imposter syndrome. Frankly, I hate the term, because it's a buzz word, and you know how I feel about buzz words. Yes, I got rejected from Harvard, but who cares. Probably not my scene, anyways. I didn't get the internship at Land O Lakes, but while their butter contributes to an indulgent chocolate chip cookie, it definitely wasn't my jam. I've always been smart. Academics have never been difficult, and even in business school, I was completely comfortable with what I could contribute.

Then I came to Amazon. The first six months were fine - after all, you have a learning curve, and everyone accepts that. Even you. Then you think about what's next. How am I adding value, and how am I contributing? You sit in a meeting and hear the person who could sell a ketchup popsicle to a lady wearing white gloves*, or the individual who uses five syllable words to explain a simple problem. A room where everyone is vying to prove their value.

You know how much I love family, and that if I could paint a picture of my life, it would involve Sunday dinners with everyone. While I know that that life isn't perfect, it's what I envisioned for so long. When I entered grad school, I told myself I was going to return to Cleveland, and I definitely wasn't going to the West Coast. Even right now, I'm looking at my parent's Christmas card on my fridge which is a picture of them with all our nieces and nephews, and I miss them. I miss them so much it hurts sometimes, and I don't think that will stop.

But here I am. The past couple months have been really hard. Harder than I'd like to admit for a variety of reasons. I say all this with the caveat that I know I am blessed. As Dad reminds me, "you're playing ping pong and making more money than many will ever make." I spend weekends in the mountains, enjoy indulgent meals, lay on my couch at 11 AM on a Saturday without a care in the world. I'm not writing this to elicit pity, but I believe it's valuable to acknowledge that despite the facade one can easily portray, life is hard. With that, I continue.

I don't want to define myself by my work, and at the same time, the reason I came to Seattle is for my work.

I interviewed this week for another role within the company. The first interview question was what did you do to influence a department.

Me: "Well, I was a one person marketing department at a startup. I had an idea. I told myself about the idea in a meeting with myself, and I agreed with me." Obviously, this is not surprising to the readership, because I talk to myself often. Of course, I went on to say how I influenced the startup, but I'm talking to the person who influenced the entire Best Buy organization. Or the entire P&G organization. Or the entire Amazon organization. What do I have to offer? Why am I valuable? What have I actually done? Do I belong here? Am I an imposter? Will the name really change to Annazon?

Then I hear another voice. It's easy to ignore, and it's easy to drown out, but it's the most powerful voice there is. It's the small, quiet voice, that says, "The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to men of understanding, nor favor to men of skill; but time and chance happen to them all."

The week before I started at Amazon, I read the story of Esther. It is a story of a woman who rose above the rest because she did not rely on her own ability, but rather, the unmerited favor of the Lord. She was undeserving, and a beautiful picture of humility, and because of that, she came to a power of authority that was able to positively influence those around her.

I don't believe I'm Esther, but I've been thinking a lot about the Lord lately, my relationship with Him, and how that relationship influences my attitude towards work. I put a lot of pressure on myself and on God, especially in work. I think, God, I came all this way, I've sacrificed so much, so what are You are going to do with me? How are You going to use me?

And that thought isn't terribly misguided, but it's selfish. Because at the end of the day, if the only reason He brought me to Seattle, or the only reason He gave me life, is to draw me closer to Him, and to build my relationship with Him, my life is a beautiful success. Regardless of where my career goes. In the mean time, He put me in a place where I am able to learn from the people who influenced Best Buy, P&G, Amazon.** How cool is that?

I don't know if I received the job. I give it a 50/50 shot. The first three interviews were questionable, and the last two were pretty solid. One of my interviews was done over a thirty minute fire drill. When the man complimented me on my composure, I told him I grew up with a loud, Polish family, so I was used to speaking over noise. Stephen, my family, including you, will always be the center of my life, next to God, no matter where I am. I love you. And I miss you. I'm so glad we have this family that is strong, and I still hope you're proud of me, Big Brother.

* I don't why I love that idiom so much, but I do.
** He also gave me the gift of wine.