Me vs. my inner dialogue
My inner dialogue is not always a pleasant place to be. It’s fine; I deal with it. I shove it down when it tells me no, and instead I look at the person I’m talking to and say, “yes, please.” Such was this case when my editor at the Naples Daily News asked me to help cover the city council elections.
No.
No. No. No. I don’t know about this. I know what you’re going to say, because it’s all you ever say, but please, consider–
“Yes, please.”
…I thought we went over this. You don’t have the time or the experience. You just got this job, if you screw this up, who knows what could happen. And another thing–
“I’m all in. When would you need me to start?”
Here we go again.
I woke up at 7 a.m. February 6. Usually my eyes kind of flutter awake, and I groggily lie in bed trying to wake up, but that day, my eyes flew open and I sat straight up in bed, the inner dialogue already starting.
Go back to bed. Say you’re sick. They’ll all know you’re just a student, not a professional. They’ll spot it a mile away–
I drowned out the constant drabble by downing a cup of water and pressing play on “Parks and Recreation,” my show of choice for background noise in the morning.
My job for the day was to visit half of the polling precincts and talk to voters and candidates, get a feel for which places were the most popular and then live-tweet the quotes and information. And though I’ve never actually done this, I’ve learned the theory of it in school. Elections in particular, though, can be touchy. Quotes need to be exact and representation of each candidate has to be equal. I know how to do this. I can do this.
You don’t know how to do this. You cannot do this.
In my almost 20 years of living in Naples, I’ve learned that it’s one of those places that doesn’t care who you are until you screw something up, which I am often prone to do.
My 40-minute commute to work is usually the time frame in which I compose my daily to-do list. On that day, I was composing and re-wording questions to ask the city council candidates.
I got to the newsroom five minutes early, and Lisa, the head reporter on the story, was already there. Her pencil skirt, heels and button-down shirt screamed future-New York Times. She smiled when she saw me.
“You ready for today?” she said.
LOL.
“Yes!” I replied.
“Okay, awesome. I want to head out to the polls around 1 p.m. Can we meet in an hour or so to go over our strategy?”
“Definitely.”
We decided to split the polling districts in half so we could cover more ground. I took three polling locations, two in churches and one at a country club of all places.
The country club was my first stop.
It was obnoxiously hot that day, even though we had recently had some really beautiful, cooler weather. I sat in my car for a minute, getting my tools organized. My weapons in this war were simple: a pen, my notebook, the lanyard with my name tag that made me look official, and the voice memos app on my phone.
Yes, here she comes, Miss Journalist Extraordinaire™. And what does she bring with her?! Ah, a notebook and a cracked phone. Watch her sweat from heat and stress, truly a sight to be seen.
I winced slightly. My god, that voice could be such a bi–
“Hello!”
I glanced out my car window and saw an older woman waving enthusiastically at me. She wore a perfectly pressed white linen blouse, oversized Gucci sunglasses and a light blue satin sash, like she was some kind of Jackie O. beauty queen going car to car campaigning against wrinkled slacks.
I rolled my window down, “Oh, um, hello.”
“Hello! Will you be voting today?” she asked. Her glistening white teeth silenced even my inner dialogue into shock.
“No, I’m actually with the Naples Daily News,” I replied, gesturing to my name tag.
“Oh! How wonderful!” she said, jovially.
“Yes! Actually, I’d love to ask you a few questions when I get out of the car?”
She agreed.
It turned out she was with Ethics Naples, a nonprofit organization gathering signatures to introduce a charter amendment that would require the city to adopt a best-practices amendment policy.
This was the first of many times that day that I saw something I had never noticed in my community before: people enthusiastically caring, without abandon, about what goes on in the city of Naples.
I was curious to know more about this election, and my inner dialogue, who shares my curiosity for all things, went along with it, but reminded me to remain suspicious.
There was still time to fail.
The next two polling places I visited showed me something I’d rarely encountered in politics: civility, and even… kindness? Could it be?
The candidates at the polls interacted with each other; their families laughed together while holding campaign signs for their preferred candidates.
I mentioned to one of the city council candidates, Terry Hutchison, that everyone seemed to, like, actually get along. He looked at me thoughtfully and said that the reason behind the friendliness was simple: he believed that each of his competitors would do the job well.
“I believe,” Hutchison said, “that every one of the candidates have it in their hearts to do what’s best for this city.”
I went back to the newsroom to do my job and report what I had witnessed. I needed to wait for the results to roll in.
My next task was to attend the results party for Mitch Norgart, who the lead reporter predicted would lose. my kead reporter wanted me stationed there because he was likely to lose.
I was very uncomfortable with this, and so was my inner dialogue.
Everyone hates the media, you know this. And the reason he might lose is because a reporter from your publication wrote a story about his bad financial dealings. I wonder who the guests will turn on when the results come out and he’s not the winner?
Norgart did lose, but I experienced very little of the ire my inner dialogue said I would.
His concession speech moved me. I felt for him and his family. There were so many people packed into the tiny Italian restaurant, all there to support this one man and his desire to serve the community.
“This isn’t going to stop me. I’ve been doing this a long time in terms of giving back to the community,” Norgart said. “And I’m going to just keep doing it.”
My final task was upon me. I needed to type this up by deadline in 30 minutes.
You’re not going to make it.
I sat in my car in a dark parking lot and played the concession speech through my car speakers. My pen flew over the notebook paper, catching every word of the quotes I deemed important. Then I picked up my phone and wrote up a few paragraphs in my notes application.
And as I wrote, my inner dialogue went wild.
You’re not going to make it. You’re nOT GOING TO MAKE iT. YOU’RE NOT GOING TO MAKE IT YOU’RENOTGOINGTO MAKE IT. YOU’RENOTGOINGTOMAKEITYOU’RENOTGOING TO AFSD;FAS’;DGJA’S;DFLKASDFKLA.
With five minutes to spare, I emailed my work to Lisa.
Everything was silent.
I wondered, was this even worth it? I was exhausted, mentally and physically. I was ready to fall apart. I had been on duty and in heels for 12 plus hours, and what did I have to show for it?
Then I saw the article with a little note at the bottom.
“Naples Daily News correspondent Sarajane Sullivan contributed to this report.”
Yeah, it was worth it.
When I face my inner dialogue, I am reminded of one of my favorite quotes of all time by the great Amy Poehler:
“Because what else are we going to do? Say no? Say no to an opportunity that may be slightly out of our comfort zone? Quiet our voice because we are worried it is not perfect? I believe great people do things before they are ready.”
When opportunities come my way, I have learned to say “yes, please.” I fight past my own anxiety, and I get the task done, because I have to. The sun needs to come up; the rain needs to fall down; I need to trust that I am capable of great things.
