Progress: linear or liberated?
What I learned from a Zoom call and a missed turn in the desert
For years, I believed success was about avoiding wrong turns. You had to follow the map and make it through the ever-narrowing funnel before it closed. Any detour meant you fell behind and risked your career, relationships, and reputation. The people who stayed on track were “coachable,” “able to take criticism well,” “efficient,” and “serious.” I wanted to be one of them. And I was.
So a few months ago, when I hopped on a “networking” call with a corporate “connection,” I was ready. I’d researched his career, drafted my intro, and even rehearsed my talking points. I wanted to prove I was worthy of being there.
“You didn’t introduce yourself right,” he said, interrupting me thirty seconds in. “Next time, act more coachable. Don’t pretend you’re qualified. You’re not.”
I blinked. Then I did what I’d always done: nodded, wrote down his words, and thanked him.
He smiled. “Finally, a good question,” he said when I asked about his early wins at the company. He told me about advocating for an employee to be fired.
After we ended the call, I went for a run. My thoughts followed me like shadows. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I keep getting feedback because something really is wrong with me.
Then, when I was in Joshua Tree with friends two weeks ago, I watched the roads curl around dust-colored rocks and missed a turn while laughing too hard at a joke. The car went quiet as my friends realized my mistake until my friend in the passenger seat burst out laughing.
“Maria,” she said, “you were so happy you didn’t notice the turn. That’s kind of beautiful.”
The words landed like water. That’s kind of beautiful. Not careless. Not wrong. I was just present. Free.
I thought of the man on Zoom. I imagined what he would’ve said about the missed turn: You’re distracted and unprepared. You don’t take things seriously.
For years, I’d trained myself to listen to that voice. Criticism and progress feel enticing because they provide false structure. But what if it was just noise?
On a run after the Zoom call, I’d told a friend, “Maybe all this criticism means I’m the problem.”
He paused. “You’re twenty-nine. And, sorry, you’ve built a more meaningful career than he has at thirty-five. You didn’t want his advice. You wanted to make an interesting connection with another human.”
Criticism can feel like truth because it’s sharp and confident. But that doesn’t mean it’s right. It’s just directional. And sometimes, it sends you the wrong way.
I used to think life was a narrowing funnel. You had to make yourself smaller and run faster to fit through before it closed. But maybe it’s more like a desert road or big stretchy thing. Wide. Open. Flexible. Ever expansive. Full of wrong turns. New landscapes that aren’t wrong as long as you’re surrounded by interesting, adventurous, and fun company.
I started writing this essay as “30 Things I Wish I Knew Before 30.” But the only thing I wish I’d known is to listen more to the people who laugh with me when I miss the “right” turns. The ones who see beauty in my joy. The ones who remind me that getting a little lost might mean I’m finding something better.
advocating for an employee to be fired. Lollllll