I felt the sting of an assumption a week ago. One of our MEA online alums, who’d never been to a workshop, was surprised that I wasn’t some ego-fed entrepreneur trying to get rich on those going through their midlife malaise. Truth be told, she had enough confidence in MEA (and me) to sign up for a Santa Fe workshop, but before coming, she was feeling a little besieged by all the marketing emails coming her way so she worried the workshop might be very transactional.
I appreciated her candor and the fact that she was loving her week and cohort and finding me to be more humble and accessible than she’d expected. She also told me she had no idea that the majority of our workshop alums have been on financial aid and that I’ve not taken a salary in the seven years we’ve been developing and operating MEA. It felt good to say that to her, but I’ll admit that I was a little bruised by the conversation, especially since my commitment to MEA is so heartfelt (and I know our marketing team is doing their best to get the word out about our new campus).
But, it also reminded me that I make assumptions like that all the time. They’re the shorthand way we get through life. Yet, they also can lack curiosity and humanity. So, I plan to spend this weekend creating an assumption journal, taking an inventory of just how many times over the next two days I make an assumption when a generative question might have been an alternative way of finding some clarity.
How often do you make an assumption about someone before you’ve even met them?
-Chip