This past week I was a mentor at a blogging conference called Haven.
I couldn’t wait.
I prepared sage words of wisdom and encouragement and little speeches on how to grow your blog and why you shouldn’t title your posts random things about your toes and to make sure you labeled your pictures instead of leaving it to your computer.
And why trying to be a perfect blogger was completely and utterly over-rated.
But in all my planning—in all my prep and blogging lesson write-up and lists of reasons to be yourself—
I had no idea I’d lead by example.
For our second mentor session, we were all seated in the main ballroom around a giant table.
All the mentee bloggers were gathered around, pulling up chairs and sharing what they’d learned in the morning session and talking to each other and showing everyone pages of notes they’d taken in their classes.
I was answering questions and talking and handing out sage words of advice and sounding generally brilliant and extremely mentor-like.
Everything was going according to plan.
I was in the middle of handing out advice about something extremely important like how to talk to sponsors or photography tips or why cute hair was a must-have for a blog conference when I happened to glance down at the time on my phone.
I was teaching a session at 3:45 that afternoon and I didn’t want to be late.
Mentors are never late.
They are on time with cute hair and purple toes and they exude wisdom and professionalism at all times.
As the time popped up on my phone I stared in horror.
What? What was that? This couldn’t be right. This couldn’t be true.
THE TIME ON MY PHONE SAID 3:51.
I was late.
The classroom wouldn’t have a teacher.
In a mad scramble, I grabbed my phone and my papers and my tattered dignity and leapt up from the table and ran out of the room.
In my haste, I left my mentor group in the dust without even a goodbye.
I ran down the hall at top speed, turned the corner, and plowed right through the middle of a sponsor booth—-almost knocking over their sign in my frantic four-minute harried attempt to get to my class.
I dodged this way and that way and twisted and turned—-all in a desperate, valiant attempt to get to the room.
It was just like a giant game of Frogger.
Four minutes and 23 seconds later I was there.
My name tag and I had finally arrived at the classroom.
I ran up to the door and threw it open and stood in the center of the door way, huffing and puffing with a red face and wild eyes and hair that looked like it had just showed up from a windstorm.
Empty seats stared back at me.
The classroom was empty except for a mentor group that was meeting there.
They stared at me like I’d just arrived from Mars and I stared back at them as I started to mumble incoherent words about teaching a class and being late and trying to be a perfect mentor.
What are you doing here? You’re early? It’s only 3:35 they said.
The next session hadn’t started yet and I still had 10 minutes to get ready.
I closed the door and slid down the wall outside.
Somehow I had misread the time on my phone.
Somehow I had ran past the entire conference like a marathon runner and left my entire mentor group without a sage word of wisdom to be found.
Somehow—I had taken those lessons I was trying to teach to the next level.
I took the speech about being yourself and being unique and being authentic and about messing up and being an imperfect blogger to heart….
…and decided to give a class demonstration. 🙂
PS While I was being imperfect and wild-hairing it at Haven—Painted Fox loaded up some of the cutest things in my shop. You can see them in the pictures in this post and read more about them here. Plus—the shop is having a 30%off sale right now. You can get 30% off right now with the code flirty30.