I had performed the National Anthem at baseball games a few times that summer as a duet with my close friend, and as a trio with that friend and my sister. Each time we performed together we heard rave reviews. As we walked away from home plate toward the fence and the bleachers, our home team would come up out of the dugout to high five us.
Born in France to an American father and a German mother, Christine Homolko spent most of her childhood being shy and introverted. When her father decided to move back to the United States, she and her sister chose to move with him to a town just outside of Boston. She started her senior year of high school in a completely new environment, and realized she had an opportunity to reinvent herself in a place where no-one knew her or her history.
"Sometimes I feel like I'm in my car on the highway, stuck behind a big truck. I look up at the end car on the car carrier and pray it doesn't fall off the trailer onto my head."
Those words are the gift she gave me.
It took a few days, but then I realized how her analogy applied to my situation: For months I had been driving my car along the highway, stuck behind a big truck. Because I have a tendency toward being impulsive (don't laugh), I had been driving very close to the back of the truck. I had been so incredibly frustrated being stuck there, so I kept swerving out to check for an opportunity to pass the truck, only to find a blind curve or a line of vehicles coming toward me, so I had to swerve back behind the truck, more and more angry and impatient.
When Bob Musial failed his role-playing test in his first sales job, he was humiliated. He was the only new hire out of seven to fail that session, and that made him even more motivated to prove to himself and others that he would be successful in that job.