Two weeks ago, I was planning to meet the interventionist who refers the majority of my clients, to discuss how we might partner to create more work together. I had grown tired of relying on him for clients. It seemed like the time had come for me to start my own sober transport and coaching company, to have greater control of marketing and ensure I would have a steadier flow of clients. But there was something holding me back from doing this and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I hoped our meeting would provide some clarity.
Since we had not yet selected an official spot, I emailed him the night before with a suggestion. He asked me if we could meet by phone instead, since he wanted to accompany one of his children to a medical appointment. “Was he not planning to tell you this?” my ego hissed. It saw lack of respect in the absence of a cancellation, and judged him harshly for this. I allowed my ego to tell me stories about a man I have great admiration for, taking inventory of every time he has promised something and not delivered. By the end of its tirade, suffice to say I did not have any interest in spearheading this man’s fan club.