It’s up to you how far you’ll go. If you don’t try, you’ll never know.
If you, like me, were a kid in the 90s who loved The Sword in the Stone, I hope you sing “That’s What Makes the World Go Round” for the rest of today with a smile on your face.
On July 1, 2012; five months pregnant with my first child, I began my career as a travel agent specializing in Disney vacations. I was contracting for a newly-formed host agency, the first agent hired on as part of the expansion of a somewhat established but well-loved brand. It was scary, but exciting. I felt privileged to be part of something in its sort-of beginning (someone else I greatly admire had started this business alone, and now it was time to bring in some help to support their well-earned growth). I was learning systems and processes, helping to make changes and serve clients, all while getting to eat, sleep, and breathe this thing that I have loved since infancy: Disney.
Astute readers will gather that this past weekend marked my 11th anniversary on this career path. Last year, I posted a SEVEN MINUTE heart-to-heart on social media to commemorate the occasion, and this year, I just kind of let it… go by. And that’s not because things aren’t going well: they are. The nice thing about numbers is that they don’t lie, and every single 2023 number has exceeded its 2022 counterpart so far. That’s good! Outside numbers, my clients are happy, and I’m gathering the positive reviews to show it. (My sincere thanks to each of you who have taken the time to do that for me.) My social media channels continue to grow, and I continue to be so grateful for the opportunity to serve you well and to spend time learning about you and from you.
Still, today’s post is a little less celebration and a little more encouragement for those of you who might be feeling like I am.
For travel agents, summer is slow. It’s well known: the first quarter of the year is busy! Your vacation calendars reset at work and it’s time to get something scheduled, or you’ve just been with family for the holidays and are ready to make plans, or maybe you’re ready to spend your tax refund. Whatever it is, you keep us travel agents hopping in those first three months of a new year. Like clockwork, the day after Christmas, the pace picks up and it’s go time. There’s even a name for it. Cruise-specific agents call it “wave season.” In my previous employment, we just called it “working so much I’m not sure when I last showered,” or *unintelligible sobs.* In the height of my eight years there, I was managing several hundred Guests at a time, who were booked and waiting to travel: following up with reminders of important planning dates, making suggestions, answering questions, facilitating payments, all while also quoting and booking new Guests. It was busy, and I LOVED it. My Type-A, achievement oriented self was in her element, and she built the loyal book of business to prove it.
So, when late spring rolled around and the pace slowed, that was a welcome adjustment. Summer was downright luxurious: a time to refresh and prepare for the predictable uptick in activity.
Now that my agency is nearing completion of its second year (still a baby), I find myself without triple-digits of Guests waiting for their vacations, but double digits (still so good!), and let’s just say that I’m not exactly relishing it. Yes, like any good travel agent, I’m using the summer to brush up on continuing education credits, to stay up to date on the travel vendors I work with, and to be thoughtful about interacting well with the Guests who I do have booked and waiting to travel. Still, I want to be busier! I want so badly to fast-forward these early fledgling days of toiling and building, to get to the part where I once again have that lovely, loyal book of Guests who I cherish working with year after year. It’s coming: I can see it, but it’s not here yet.
The nice thing about a summer lull is that I can (and do) fill it with any number of other pursuits, and if you know me at all I’ve probably accosted you with my love for plants, or maybe I’ve even foisted some cuttings or baby plants on you. So it’s only fitting that the plants would teach me a lesson in the midst of my current tantrum.
About six weeks ago I transplanted some beautiful baby ferns that were generously gifted to me by a dear friend. We have a tree in our front yard, and I was looking for some shade plants to fill in around its base.
If you know much about plants, you probably know that they also throw a tantrum when you transplant them. Leaves will turn brown, they might completely fall off, your beloved plant will threaten to die: that plant was perfectly happy where it was before, thank you very much. But most of the time, once the tantrum subsides, they regrow and flourish, better than they were before (see the irony?). My ferns did just that: their big, beautiful foliage flopped to the ground, and I dutifully staked them up and watered them, hoping they would acclimate. And then all of their mature leaves died. They DIED and I was MAD. Because now my summertime distraction is MOCKING ME and I am watering sticks in the ground like an IDIOT instead of being a #goddess.
Still, I watered those dumb little sticks. And last night, I saw this:
One, perfect new frond, unfurled from that not at all dead fern, which I had dutifully watered through its tantrum. And I cried about that (more than I would like to admit), because I’m going to keep watering each beautiful frond of this business I’m working so hard at, even when I am struggling under the weight of starting over. Because I can see the thriving future garden that I’m working so hard to cultivate, even though it’s small now. It’s small, and it's mine, and I love it.
I am so grateful for each of you who have given me the opportunity to earn your business so far. I promise to keep showing up, and getting better with time. The roots of this business are strong, and I’m excited for all of the beautiful things that will spring up from this humble foundation.
And for those of you who are in your own growing phase, but you’re growing mostly roots and wondering why you keep watering those spindly little sticks while everyone else is harvesting their flowers: take heart. Something really good is coming. I just know it.
