My friend Liz is one of the most positive, productive coworkers I get to partner with. Her answer to pretty much anything is, "Sure, I can help you with that. We can figure that out. Yep." With Liz, anything is possible.
My role at work generally involves words. But I'm stretching myself into graphic design just a bit. And this week Liz was kind enough to help me create a banner for one of our team's workshops—and to teach me the basics of Photoshop in the process. Which is sort of like a college professor teaching a kindergartener calculus. Bless her.
We needed a logo for the banner, so Liz pulled a jump drive from her pocket, plugged it into my Mac, and downloaded the image.
And I pulled out my phone to snap a photo of her jump drive.
"Possible," it reads. Perfect. This is the attitude to which she tackles life. "Yep, we can do this. That's possible. Yep." Her default is always to the solution side.
Liz is the master of Possible. I served alongside Liz at church one Christmas—she was in charge of printing last-minute tickets for guests and I was one of her underlings. Problem: the two printers that our IT department had set up at our Seating Solutions station would not print. Liz called IT, but they could not figure it out. The line of guests was growing long, and the church service would start soon.
"That's alright," she told the flustered IT guy as he continued to fiddle with the machines. "I'll just run downstairs and print each batch of tickets at the printer down there."
Um, our church is a bit sprawling. Downstairs printer = about one city block away, plus stairs—each way—for every group of guests. (*Ahem* I generously offered to stay here on my stool and give the waiting guests mints while Liz ran laps up and down the stairs dozens of times fetching printed tickets for our Christmas attenders).
Liz's solution was not the most practical. It was pretty old-school, actually. But she kept the line moving and guests were served well. She made it Possible for them to enter the auditorium quickly and find their seats. (Though let's not forget I gave them tasty mints. Pretty much we both were heroes, you could say.)
We need more Possible people in our lives. I need to be a more Possible person—I have a pinch of Possible in me, but not nearly enough. I'm too quick to become rigid in my thinking, to follow the protocol rather than solve the problem, to see the barriers rather than the bridge.
My work week starts tomorrow. And Possible has been bumped to the top of my to-do list.