Next to the entrance of every Sam’s Club nationwide is the consumer electronics section. In this section stands a sales representative dressed in a suit promoting the store’s latest deals. To adult shoppers, the consumer electronics department is their go-to place for discounted TVs on Black Friday or a new phone when a family member needs a replacement. For children, this section offers the most captivating gadgets to play with while parents complete their weekly grocery run. The consumer electronics department in Sam’s Club was my home last summer.

Like many high school graduates, I pursued a summer job in the months before heading to college. This opportunity was the ideal time for many of my classmates to earn some spending money from a stress-free retail or tutoring job. For my friends, my decision to sell DirecTV and AT&T plans for the summer was a complete mystery. I was an introvert; in the classroom, I did not draw attention to myself by jumping to answer questions. Every action I made was carefully calculated until I was sure I could succeed. The sales rep role was the complete opposite, as conversion rates averaged only 5%. Why would someone like me take a job that required me to seek out attention and rejection from disinterested shoppers? The answer was simple – I had never done it before. This split-second decision only took 5 minutes of courage, but it made a world of difference.

This display of courage led me to a week of sales training where I was taught to smile, laugh, make conversation, and recite a sales pitch. Too quickly came my first day “in the field.” I leaned against the phone display waiting for customers to pass the station. As they walked through the sliding doors, I straightened my blazer, stood up straight, and took a few steps forward. My heart pounded and I opened my mouth to greet them.

“Hi y’all, who’s your TV provider? We’re doing a promotion to–,” I was cut off by a quick wave of a hand and they turned brusquely away. My first rejection. Another one came a few minutes later. Then another. And another. I didn’t make a single deal that day, or even in the first week. I finished my week in the field dejected and began to echo the doubts of my classmates. I thought, “maybe my personality just wasn’t cut out for this role.”

Motivated by my less than satisfactory performance, however, I wanted to improve. My courage had allowed me to take the first step in stepping out of my comfort zone, but I needed to continue growing in that direction. To achieve this, I utilized humility and curiosity. I knew the bounds of which I still had yet to learn and sought the resources to do so. Over the course of the next two weeks, I arrived at weekly check-ins early and stayed later to work with senior executives. They threw every possible scenario at me while I practiced navigating client interactions. I also remained curious about each team member’s unique sales strategies and learned how to apply their sales “personas” to my own. As I improved my communication skills, I also gained confidence. My poor first week stemmed from being so focused on closing deals rather than genuinely engaging with customers. After overcoming this obstacle, I returned to the consumer electronics section with a newfound excitement. My goal would be to connect with people, and deals would come naturally.

Monday morning came around and I once again waited for the first customers to come through the sliding doors. Using a tone similar to that of talking with an old friend, I greeted, “Good morning, y’all, how are you doing?” The members started to talk about their day and I learned about their kids, gardens, and pets. Immediately, I noticed a difference in my sales. I had formed personal connections with customers and even if they did not need a TV or phone right then, they gave promises to return. My first day back, I closed two deals.

My experience as a DirecTV sales rep was a lesson on the importance of courage, humility, and curiosity, and it transformed my perspective on life. Although I still am an introvert, I learned to utilize courage and take risks in order to grow. In pursuing a role that starkly contrasted my personality, I broke through my own doubts that introversion made me unfit for a sales role. Today, I continue to seek opportunities to make genuine connections and meet new people with diverse perspectives. I also strive to help others, promote positivity, and remain humble and curious in each relationship, whether it’s with friends, colleagues, or mentors. It only takes five minutes of courage to venture beyond your comfort zone and exceed your limits, and I challenge all of you to find that moment. What’s something you’re afraid of that’s holding you back from where you want to go?

A Lesson From Shoveling Mulch

One of the earliest memories I have of life back in Ohio is shoveling mulch in the summer.  I could feel the oppressive rays of the sun persuading me to race back inside where I was promised cold, refreshing water, but my older brother always insisted we continued piling black mulch on top of the soil. 

“The faster we work, the sooner we get done,” he assured me. I wasn’t amused. The ache in my muscles did not care for his cliche captain obvious remarks. As I felt my skin cooking in the midwestern heat, I couldn’t stop thinking to myself: What’s the point?

It didn’t make sense to me; we would spend the better part of two days piling on at least 20 bags of mulch to cover the plot in the garden only for the wind to blow and the sky to rain, eroding all the mulch we worked so hard to place. Why were we spending so much time and putting so much work into something that could never last? Every summer we’d repeat the same cycle of buying mulch, piling it on, and waiting for it to blow away.

When I got a little bit older and was less afraid of questioning my parents, I asked them the question burning in my head for years: why? Why do we spend so much time and money on this? My mother gave me an answer that puzzled me.

“It looks nice. Even if it’s for a moment, it looks nice.” I could tell she did not put much thought into her response, as if it should have already been clear. Again, I was not amused. 

At that time, I was about 13 years old, I was still going through that annoying pre-teen phase, and my first reaction was well, why should I care? After all, if someone sees our yard and thinks it looks disheveled or horrible, that’s their own opinion. How should that affect me? But as I learned more, read more, and took more classes in high school, I started to realize that appearance isn’t vain. Appearance doesn’t have to be people-pleasing, and appearance at its base can serve a bigger purpose.

For instance, if you have ever seen me write with a pencil or pen, you’d know I have very neat handwriting, but it does come at a price: I write extremely slowly. Often, people would notice and comment that those perfect round letters aren’t worth the cost of my glacial writing pace. To them, this is just another ploy to gain approval from my instructors when I turn in a prim and proper paper. 

But they’re wrong. Though I’ll admit I did play the role of teacher’s pet from time to time, that was never the aim with my neat handwriting. Whenever I doll up my paper and worsen my writer’s callus, that is me putting on my gardening gloves and shoveling mulch. I’m putting that work in for my lawn, for my growth, for my plants.

And let me be clear– it’s not because I want to have the best lawn in the neighborhood or that I want my lawn to be the object of everybody’s envy. It’s simpler than that. It’s because after working for long hours over two days, I can have a sense of accomplishment. I can lean back, have a glass of water, and say it looks nice. Even if it’s for a moment and even if nobody sees, it’s okay– it still looks nice.

My challenge to all of you is to reject the idea that your accomplishments only matter if there is someone to congratulate you, to perceive you. Have the courage to say “no, I’m not trying to impress anybody but myself,” because, at the end of the day, the mulch is going to wash away anyway.