How to use my ability to grasp opportunities (2)

Don't close the door to opportunity

Opportunities don't automatically come to you, but you also don't close the door to opportunities.

Unfortunately, it's not uncommon to close the door on opportunities. We must guard against this tendency. Well, let's tell a story to make it clear.

It's about a doctor who closes the door on opportunity and therefore on improving himself and making progress. He was already a professional doctor, but to take it to the next level, he decided to become a plastic surgeon.

"Can I see you in surgery?" He asked me.

"Tomorrow," I said. "Eight o 'clock in the morning, all right?"

I'm not sure if "eight o 'clock in the morning" upset him, but my guess is, sort of. But he nodded. "I'll be there," he said. "Eight o 'clock in the morning." He did keep his word and arrived at 8:00 a.m. Seeing me in surgery, he said, It was amazing. It was eye-opening. He wanted to be my student, and I promised to teach him. He came back a few more times, tut-tutting and confessing how much he was amazed at the plastic surgery and how much he had won. He also said that the opportunity was so good that if he learned how to do it, he could become a plastic surgeon. I'm glad he has such enthusiasm. Then one morning he didn't show up.

The next morning he was absent again. A few days later, I walked into the office and there he was. "Where have you been? I asked. "I overslept a few times," he replied, a little dazed.

"I woke up, looked at the time, was late, and didn't show up."

"That's not how you learn it." I said it gently.

"I know. By the way, do you have any surgeries this afternoon. I really can't get up. The afternoon is more convenient for me."

"Sorry, I always operate in the morning. The patient just woke up and I had to find the best time for the patient."

"Er --" he said.

And then I never saw a trace of him again. Despite his great interest in plastic surgery, this represented an opportunity for him to be creative. I don't think he would pretend that. But he didn't. Because he couldn't get out of bed in the morning, he shut the doors of opportunity open to him. He is not entitled to success because he has rejected it in his own way.

Learn anything from this story? Are you also unknowingly blocking yourself from opportunities? Life has such a lovely gift, it must be used. Failure is bound to come, so let it come after you've given it your best shot. Remember, failure cannot be the result of laziness.

Now let me tell you how a cleaning lady found an opportunity.

The song of happiness

I ran into this janitor in the elevator one night. At about eight o 'clock, I returned to my apartment after eating at a nearby restaurant, jumped into the elevator and headed home to the 18th floor. I met her in the elevator with a mop and a bucket to clean up. She was a small woman in her forties who had worked in the building for more than a decade, but we did not know her well enough to nod and say "hello" occasionally. All we did that night was nod our heads and say "hello." We went upstairs, and she followed me to where I lived, carrying a mop and a bucket, ready to clean up the waste paper and mop the floor. She started in the front room, and I went into the living room. I sat down comfortably, smoked a cigarette, put my feet up and read a script, having long forgotten about the cleaning lady.

Suddenly, I heard singing from the other room. No, it was a soft hum. Someone was humming a lullaby. It was so soft and sweet, and her voice was so happy and joyful, and she was humming a happy song. I got up and went into the room. The female workers were mopping the floor and humming. She saw me and said hello again.

"Are you busy today?" She asked me.

"Yes, and you?"

"Just like any other day."

"But today is different, isn't it?

'What's the matter?

"You were laughing and humming."

"Oh, I do that all the time. It makes me happy. It's fun to sing while cleaning."

"I've never heard that before." I said.

"Is it?

"Besides, we've never had a conversation."

"That's true."

I asked about her. Her life was really rough -- enough to break a lot of people, enough to make a lot of people too sad. And yet she persevered. Her husband, a truck driver for a government agency, was killed in a car crash 12 years ago. Her daughter, who was 9 at the time of the accident, is now a 21-year-old college student. The family was in the car when the accident happened. Her husband died, but she and her daughter miraculously survived.

After the death of her husband, how to face the pressure of life, how to comfort the weak daughter, all these problems do not allow her to fall down in the disaster, she can only find the courage to continue to live from the inner world. All these years, she has supported herself and her daughter, who will soon graduate from the University of Wisconsin.

"What will she do after graduation?" I asked.

"She majored in psychology, went on to get a master's degree, and then got a job teaching retarded children."

"May I congratulate you?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, and you can do it. You must be proud of yourself."

"Yes, very proud."

"You should be."

"And I'm happy, too."

"That's great."

"It's for my daughter."

'You should,' I said. 'But I think you should be more pleased with your achievements. Look what you went through for your daughter, when she was so young, and you didn't let yourself fall over and disappoint her."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"You see, we've never spoken like this. I've seen you often over the years, and I've always thought there was something wrong with you, something special. What is it? '

"My wig?"

"Oh --" I looked at her hair. "Yes, yes, that's it."

"Do you like it?" She was suddenly shy, even a little sensitive. There was a light in her eye, as if she were waiting for my approval.

"I like it."

"Does it make me look more or less like a lady?

"You've always been a lady." I hate flattery, but at that moment I felt a genuine respect for her, and I couldn't help but want to compliment her.

There she stood, with her mop and bucket, and her eyes shone with such a light of joy that no princess or countess had ever seen, and with such a glow of pride in her heart. "I wanted to look good for my daughter. I am very proud of her study and her plan. My daughter really wants to do something for other kids in the world, she really does. She wants to have children of her own and teach them to live meaningful lives and do things that matter to us as humans."

I went back to the living room and continued reading the script. How strange, all these years, coming and going, nodding heads, our lives never seem to intersect, never on the same level. Suddenly I was reacquainted with the woman who washed and cleaned my floors. Maybe some people will look down on her, think her work is low, but this adds to my respect for her, admire her courage to overcome adversity, admire her courage to maintain self-esteem. Even in the face of a tragedy that would have sent many people down, she did not lose pride.

She hummed again, tender, sweet, joyful -- the happy song of a cleaning lady. Although she wore a wig that covered her hair, her vibrant pride needed no artificial embellishment to hide it. The husband is alive, and suddenly the husband is dead -- just like that. But she overcame her grief, her fear, and saw opportunity again. She found another opportunity in helping her daughter and moving on with her life. Even in a hard, tiring, poorly paid job, she sang a happy, joyful song every chance she got.