I stuff another bite of muffin in my mouth while I ponder what all of this means, but then Meghan’s coach arrives so I decide to put my thinking aside while I focus on getting the most out of my sample appointment. That’s the point of a sample, right? Maybe life coaching is the worst and kismet only wanted me to start blow-drying my hair. Might as well find out.
Fifteen minutes later I have my answer. I’m sold. Meghan’s life coach is the best. She makes me want to be a better me. She makes me believe I can be a better me! I totally get why someone would want a life coach. I already feel calmer and more focused just from sampling Meghan’s session! So… I know I should probably leave now. I should. But I still haven’t solved the problem about how I’m going to pay for my own life coach, or even where to find one. It’s not as if I can stand up now, stop at their table and ask for a business card, can I?
I cannot.
So.
I’ll just stay a bit longer. A wee little bit. Or the entire hour.
It’s the most practical thing to do. Normally practicality isn’t my thing, so the fact that I’m willing to be practical feels like another sign, don’t you think? I do. I think it means I was meant to be right here, right now. Besides, it seems like Meghan and I have a lot in common. If I was a few years older, had a better wardrobe, took the time to blow-dry my hair, and could afford a life coach we’d practically be the same person. Admittedly that might be an overstatement based on fifteen minutes of sampling her life, but we’re similar enough. So it’s kinda like she’s helping her past self be her best self.
I pause and twist a lock of hair around my finger. Okay, yeah, that’s a stretch.
I stay anyway.
The rest of the session is just as life-changing as the first fifteen minutes. We’ve worked on identifying our key strengths and identifying new skills we’d like to develop. And the thing is, it feels really good to identify my strengths. I’ve got a lot of great qualities. For example, I’m spontaneous. That’s something Meghan is working on. I’m also really outgoing and great at going with the flow. Adaptable, is how Carol would classify it.
Next week we’re working on decision-making skills. It seems that Meghan has made some bad decisions, but there’s no judgment from me, because who hasn’t? Besides, Carol said that oftentimes bad decisions lead to good decisions, because we learn from our mistakes. She also said that bad outcomes are not always the results of bad decisions. She said sometimes the right decision still has a bad outcome through no fault of your own and it shouldn’t stop you from trying again.
I’m pretty sure they were talking about a condo she bought before moving to Las Vegas but the advice applies to all of the guys I dated in college as well. See how adaptable I am?
Carol is amazing.
Which makes me think, perhaps I should come back next week.
Because really, who’s to say how long a sample should last? Not me. I’m not the sample police.
I’m just a girl, sitting in a coffee shop, capitalizing on my strengths. Unlocking my life’s purpose. Expanding my comfort zones. Besides, this isn’t even the worst idea I’ve ever had. It’s not even the worst idea I’ve had this week, which is fine because bad ideas spark creativity. At least that’s what Carol said, and I really like that outlook so I’m adopting it.
“Is this a good location for us to meet again next week?”
Yes. Yes, it is. Technically Carol was asking Meghan, but a coffee shop is really not the place for a life coaching session if you don’t want strangers to benefit from the session too.
“I can’t do Thursday next week,” Meghan replies. “I’m out of town on a business trip. Let me check my schedule and send you an email.”
Well, that’s that then, isn’t it? I’ll never know when they’re coming back and I can’t very well hang out at this coffee shop on the daily like some sad novelist with an allergy to working at home. I eye a woman at a corner table mumbling to herself as she types. Definitely not.
“The only other opening I have is Sunday morning at eleven,” Carol announces.
Problem solved.
Chapter Two
“Holy hell, who is that?” I stop dead in my tracks, causing Mark to slam into me from behind.
That’s not a dirty euphemism or anything, we’re fully clothed. Mark bumped into me because he was too busy looking at his cell phone to watch where he was going. It might also be because I abruptly stopped walking, but the pedestrian always has the right of way, so whatever. Granted, the pedestrian rule is for vehicles and people crossing the street, not for co-workers in hotel corridors, but I’ve always been pretty good at adapting rules to suit my needs.
“Payton, Jesus. Watch where you’re going.”
“Me? You’re the one who bumped into me!”
“Because you stopped walking in the middle of the hallway.” He looks past me and waves at the empty hall to indicate how idiotic my dead stop mid-hall was.
“I stopped exactly because I was watching where I was going,” I counter. “And I watched that guy”—I nod my head in the direction of the lobby visible from the second-floor balcony we’re standing in front of—“and decided to stop.”
“Watched that guy? Nice grammar.”
“Mark.” I pause, waiting until I have his full attention. “I need you to focus.”
“Focused.”
I really like Mark. I’m thinking about making him my work husband. It’s early days because this is only my second week of work, but so far it’s looking good. Sometimes when you meet the right co-worker you just know.
“Who is he?” I move closer to the balcony rail so I can better ogle my potential future husband. “The gorgeous one talking to Canon. Do you know? Does he work here?”
“No idea.”
“We need to find out because I might marry him and have his babies.”
“Really?” Mark questions, his voice filled with the undertone of not taking me seriously.
“Yes, really. It could happen. He looks like just my type. Tall, dark, handsome and hung.”
“Hmm,” There’s that tone again.
“What? You don’t think I’m his type?”
“I didn’t think you were the type, period.”
“What type is that?” I take my eyes off the gorgeous stranger to give Mark a glare. Just for a second though, because I can look at Mark anytime I want, and who knows if I’ll ever see my maybe husband again.
“The serious type. The type who cared about getting married. Just yesterday you told me most couples would be better off setting a pile of cash on fire and using the flames to roast marshmallows instead of wasting it on a wedding.”
“That’s only because we were working on the Johnson-McNally wedding and that couple would be better off setting fire to a pile of cash than wasting it on a wedding to each other. They’re both horrible. Also, I was hungry and I wanted a s’more.”
“Hmm.”
“Besides, it’s a well-documented fact that couples who spend less than one thousand dollars on their weddings are less likely to divorce.”
“A well-documented fact, huh?”