Moving Day: an exciting day to look forward to (or dread) for months. Moving Day: an organizational celebration (or catastrophe). We’ve all been there – whether we’ve moved ourselves, our kids, or offices, and whether you’re learning about clothes you haven’t worn in a few years or strategies in spatial reasoning, it’s never dull. I collected boxes at work weeks in advance. My husband and I packed and cleaned, then we packed and cleaned some more. We strategized what would go where in our new home. We changed our address with anyone that mattered. We booked a moving truck. We were as prepared as we could be leading up to the big day and felt great.
Moving day came and the excitement was bursting out of me from the moment I woke up; I was ready. As I drove the moving truck to our new house, two large dogs panting in the seat beside me—family following behind ready to help—I was going through the plans I had already set in place. I knew what room the boxes would be put in, and I knew what room I was going to start on. As soon as everything was in the house, which I anticipated would be done by 3 at the very latest, I would work on room by room, box by box. By the time we settled into our freshly laundered beds in our mostly unpacked rooms, the house would be livable.
My vision for the day ahead set, I pulled the moving truck filled with my house up to our new home… filled with someone else’s belongings… and someone else.
How could this happen?
I was as prepared as I could have been!
They, however, were not.
Truly, all I wanted to do was sit down in the middle of the driveway that was supposed to be mine and cry. My plans – ruined. My day – shot. And my stuff? It sat in the moving truck for hours while we waited for the not-quite-previous-inhabitants to file their things out.
I didn’t have a meltdown or explode or sit in the middle of not-my-driveway crying. Instead, I put a smile on my face, helped the former owners when I could, and enjoyed a beautiful day outside with my family while we waited. Dusk came and all of my family’s belongings were finally in the house – not where I wanted them, not even in a convenient place (the basement) but they were there. And I was finally home.
This is a lesson worth remembering outside of boxes and in life at work. No matter how prepared I am to take a phone call, enter a meeting, or work on a project – no matter how positive I sound or how helpful I am – I cannot control the customer on the other end of the call, the people who will show up to the meeting, or the motives of those I encounter. But here’s what I, and you, can do:
It’s been 3 weeks since I was finally able to move into my house, and while I won’t be moving again any time soon, it’s reflecting on these sometimes not-as-pleasant-as-they-could-have-been life experiences that continue to help me grow as a person – and a planner.
If you’ve ever moved like the Duchess of Drivetrain, you know that things don’t always go according to plan. When you can’t control what happens around you, how do you manage? Leave Maggie a comment – or email her directly.
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