on belonging
This past weekend I shot a beautiful, upscale wedding in Carmel Valley, California. I'm not just saying it was beautiful because that's what wedding vendors are supposed to say—it really was beautiful, quite stunning actually. The ceremony took place in an old mission and the reception at a secluded oasis by a vineyard. The next morning, I woke up early to record a podcast with a friend who helped me film the wedding.
While showing up to film the day, an unexpected feeling of anticipation came over me as I started seeing the venue and all the internal accessories. I'm reluctant to label this sensation as nervousness, because I was ready and I had worked similar weddings before. It was also fun seeing familiar faces since I had filmed the groom's sister's wedding a couple years ago, and they referred me. Still, it struck me how nice everything was down to the smallest details, and it made me think of the concept of imposter syndrome.
I wouldn't say I was experiencing imposter syndrome exactly, but I was at least momentarily amused by the question of whether I "belong" at such elegant events.
"Am I qualified to be here?"
"What training, credentials, experience, or backing from others should I have to do this job at THIS place?...Do I have all of that?"
I'll cut to the chase: there is never any training or licensing process that will give you the internal assurance you're looking for.
There are programs or training pipelines in dozens of professions that attempt to provide this for their graduates, and some people naturally have more confidence than others, but you ultimately have to assume it on your own, completely independent of any external recognition.
By all means, if you do something professionally (meaning, you are getting paid to do it), then GET all of the credentials you should have. In the context of video production, someone who flies a drone commercially is supposed to have a Part 107 license to be compliant with the FAA. This was an obvious one for me to get years ago because I wanted to take it seriously (I was also excited about getting it because the information you have to learn for the exam is interesting and useful).
Showing up prepared is a given, but the final piece is acting the part.
People were happy to see me last weekend and treated me like an important vendor because I acted like it. I belonged because I, without overstepping, did the job and moved with confidence before I ever opened my mouth. Being pleasant and useful are better than being arrogant, of course, but you should never exude a question mark.
A funny example that has come to mind while I've been at luxury events: high-paying customers want to have qualified vendors, but a celebrity can get in anywhere. Proper training and licenses are nice, but the intangible assurance is what goes the furthest.
Finally, the interactions should also happen unforced, and this is possible when you act as you should before you even talk to anyone.
Playing baseball as a kid, I remember my biggest hits were the ones that I physically felt the least, whereas a sloppy grounder or foul ball would often hurt my hands and could be felt in my joints. The big hits were big yet effortless because the timing, positioning, and technique were all correct at the point of contact. When batting in life, the big hits come when you're willing to show up with everything aligned.
When it's right, nobody will ask for your credentials, they'll just be glad you're there.
Belonging is about making the choice to belong, and those around you will sense your choice at every event.
Make a great week, my friends! Go crush it.
-Thomas