“Perspective” with Azer Karabıyık
With your permission, I’d like to use this post to tell you a story that happened to me recently.
Two weeks ago, I received a message from a television channel inviting me to be a guest on one of their programs. With my business newly launched, and as a way to bring the lesser-known sides of my cherished profession to more people, I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea. My first reaction to any offer is usually: why not?
I consulted a few close friends, and everyone had a different take. I even heard about someone who had been through it before. Telling myself it was better than nothing, and giving in a little to my curiosity, I set off.
As I was parking my car, I came across a parking attendant. “Did you come for the channel?” the attendant asked. At first I assumed they worked there, but they didn’t; they had spotted the gamboç* in my car, guessed I was there for the channel and, bless them, pointed me to a good spot. I get very tense looking for parking in Istanbul, and I never forget moments like this 😊 When I had no cash on me, they recited their IBAN from memory. In short, I can say this was the person who surprised me most that day. A shout-out from here.
Everyone at the channel welcomed me warmly. It was the first time I had waited for a program in a channel’s waiting room, and I watched everything around me with great curiosity. For someone from my background, it was a truly, truly interesting place. What caught my attention first was the rather harsh details of the decor, with hints of glitz on one side and religious, political and sexual objects on the other. After a while I got bored, and since I do want to meet people and be known, I felt like talking to someone. I chatted with the others who were waiting, just as I was. Just as I was thinking they were all wonderful people, I was told it was my turn, and we started filming.
What I felt during the program was the peace of simply being able to talk about myself. Speaking not about a company, an institution or another person, only about what I believe in, felt completely like me. And being able to do something for my cherished profession, professional coaching, is a tremendous feeling. The shoot also went quite well; it just flowed, I’d say. I had written the questions myself, yes, but I hadn’t thought in any detail about how to answer them. Somehow I knew I could get my point across, and so it turned out.
No story moves on without something going wrong, right? Up to that point, everything had gone just as it should. I was directed to a woman’s office. It was as if this woman were the real face of the channel. The mask of that hard-to-describe ambiance had come off, and her manner was that of someone making the final move on prey believed to be caught in the net. A price had been set according to how widely the recording would reach audiences, and I was being asked to make a decision. Until I got there, all I had in mind was putting the recorded video on my website and keeping it as a memento, and I didn’t want to rush into the next step. I called the friend who had been through this before, but couldn’t reach them at that moment. Meanwhile, the woman who had taken off the mask began making even harsher moves. Promises of reaching more people with my work, accusations of “we informed you earlier,” attempts at discounts… I felt uneasy. What I dislike most is being pushed by salespeople to decide while I’m still trying to make up my mind. Deciding it wasn’t worth it, I left the room. I have little tolerance anymore for people who judge me and don’t accept my style and stance.
What triggered this post is my belief in sharing. What did I learn? How we interpret what we encounter after the things that happen to us, and the conclusions we draw from it, is up to us. If I were in a judging mindset, I would judge everyone, dish out justice, and feel regretful, bad and as if stuck in a swamp. But my mind, having shifted to a learning mindset, asked me these questions: What did you learn from this experience? What is your responsibility? What can you do now? Answering them felt good, powerful and worthwhile. I’d like to share my answers with you too:
From this experience, I learned to see and experience with my own eyes what happens at the end of the message that has gone out to so many of my friends, and to create a story from it.
My responsibility is to share all my information openly and transparently with my friends who receive messages like these. My door is open to everyone; I can name names.
Now I’m thinking about other ways of reaching audiences. Bowing to traditional media and to those who monopolize audiences is not the only option. I think it’s time to wink at Spotify and YouTube; I’m open to offers.
I deliberately chose not to name the channel, for reasons of my own. For those who are really curious, there’s a hint at the start of the post.
*Gamboç, it turns out, is the word for a garment bag. I only recently learned it from my friend Vanda Şalom 😊
Would you like to talk about this topic as part of your own development journey?
AUTHOR
Azer Karabıyık
Career Transition Coach PCC, ACPC, ORSC
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