Up until last Friday, my office looked like it belonged to someone on the verge of either moving in or moving out. It was difficult to tell which. As I looked around my office, I didn’t like the message that I was inadvertently sending. I like my personal space to be organized but it was looking more than a little stark. The landscape of the office consisted of a few sad posters and a beautiful painting lying on the floor in a haphazard manner with bare walls. My assistant, Sara, threatened to call an interior decorator. Not good.
Several years ago, a client that ran an art gallery gave me an extraordinary painting – the same one propped up at an awkward angle in the corner collecting dust. It was painted by a Canadian artist and is a very striking seascape. I have no idea what it is worth and would probably feel uncomfortable if someone actually appraised it for me. And yet there it sat, sandwiched between posters of various jazz players and a broken frame.
Anyone that has gone through a job change before knows that it’s a difficult transition. In my case, I had recently left a company I had worked at for twelve years. It was a good change but a hard one.
To put it mildly, last Friday was a really hectic day. I had four transactions that really needed to fund and record and we were in for a three-day weekend. For about four hours it was pretty chaotic in the office. Lots of calls. Lots of emails. Lots of stress. And yet, somehow it felt right. When my assistant Sara literally dropped everything to sign a customer across town to save a transaction something just clicked.
I scavenged a few nails from an empty office, grabbed a hole puncher as a hammer and within a few minutes had some art on the wall. I then quickly texted the photos to Sara. Thankfully, it was before she reached the interior decorator.