The Zipper that Tore Me
On the very day that my facilitator announced that I would be the next team captain of my volunteer shift at Good Samaritan Hospital, the zipper on my khaki pants refused to let me enjoy the moment.
After a three month application process and two impromptu interviews, I had become a leader of something consequential for the first time in my seventeen years of life. The responsibilities that come with the position included: managing everyone’ attendance, taking calls from the hospital departments, assigning tasks, and closing up the patient services room at the end of the shift.
After my facilitator told me in private of the good news, I decided to take a quick trip down to the bathroom before my shift started. However, as I began to zip up the fly of my khaki pants, the plastic slide detached from the hard metallic interlocking projections of my zipper, meaning I couldn’t zip up my pants. I raised the detached plastic slide to my face and thought to myself that this was a sign from the universe telling me that I would fail at my new promotion. Although, I was excited for this new opportunity in my life I was also very scared and nervous because I had never held a leadership position in my life.
I sought to solve the problem myself. I tried to reattach the plastic slider back with my pants on but my volunteer badge and shirt kept getting in my way so I decided to do the next best thing: take my pants off for better mobility. Despite much hesitation, I sat down on the debris infested bathroom floor in my stall hoping for better results. I could feel the germs crawling onto my bare legs desperate to tell me that I was bound for failure both with the zipper and my future career as the team captain of my shift.
“You’ll get fired for not remembering to use hand sanitizer!” Screamed Germ #1.
“You are a clumsy and lazy person, you can’t do something like this!” Berated Germ #2.
I had no idea how much time had passed because I had forgot my cell phone in the patient services room and there were no clocks in the bathroom. I couldn’t stay in the bathroom for the rest of my life so I put my pants back on, only to realize that through my rough effort to fix my zipper, the button on my pants had fallen off. And of course my t-shirt was too short to cover the top of my pants. There seemed to be no possible solution for my predicament. I started to get frustrated and my good mood started to vanish. I had fallen from cloud nine, and now I was plummeting hard, for no other reason than a freaking zipper. I hated that I was so easily thrown off my game because it made me feel weak and fragile. For me, little things like zippers, can lead to a nervous breakdown because I was constantly berating myself for my insecurities; I never believed myself worthy enough for anything good. As team captain, I would have to be structured and able to handle any problem given to me, but I couldn’t even manage my own pants. Why did I let these things affect me so much? And before my inner turmoil could eat me up and before I started crying I looked in the mirror and asked myself: “Why should I let a piece of plastic hold my fate?”
Just as I asked myself this question, I found a solution so conspicuously obvious that I wanted to bang my head against a wall. Sitting outside the bathroom at the main desk were two of my volunteer peers and I recalled one of them was wearing a jacket. Surely they would be able to lend it to me so I can tie it around my waist to hide my pant problem for the time being. I stepped out of the bathroom and asked my friend if I could borrow her jacket for the remaining twenty minutes of our shift, and upon witnessing my embarrassing situation she readily offered me the jacket. It was an easy solution and all I needed to do was muster up enough courage to ask for some help.
I realized then that being team captain, or being a professional in anything in life, doesn’t constitute perfection. Holding a pivotal leadership position or even being able to feel comfortable in your own skin is first and foremost about accepting yourself for your faults and knowing you are good enough. I should be able to ask others for help appropriately without fear of being and looking incompetent. I could attribute my insecurities with my lack of experience with leadership or social interaction in general, but my facilitator choose me for me, lighthearted and disciplined. At the end of the day I look at other people and realize that I am not the only one plagued by insecurities. Now, when I look at myself, I recognize that my self-esteem has been grounded, encouraging me to step on this Earth with a new happiness that has prospered in my newfound conviction. Toward the end of day, I hope that everyone heals and finds self-love for themselves, so the world will be rid of this plague and give birth to a society where our acceptance is based on a foundation for our own personal acceptance.