Thoughts From the Coffee Table: I did it. I spit in the tube (very ladylike), sealed it up and sent it in. Now I’m both excited and terrified.
I am Irish. But I was adopted. What if I’m not really Irish?
My husband has long accused me of not being Irish because (allegedly) I sometimes waste beer. When it is warm. At the bottom of the glass.
As I put the box in the mail I had this weird sense of loss of identity. WHAT am I? I have never worried about WHO I am. Being adopted is one of the things I am most proud of. I cherish the fact that someone loved me enough to give me up and that my family chose me. But WHAT am I?
One of the reasons I enjoy writing about the people that provide me with the best customer experiences is because it unites us in excellence. Our perfect imperfections. Our struggles and our successes. When we see what someone else can achieve, we see how we can as well.
It’s also why I try to remember that the bad experiences aren’t always because of a bad person, but perhaps because that good person was having a bad day. I know I have bad days where I am not at my best.
So what will I find when my results arrive? Irish? Norwegian? Icelandic?That would be so cool!
But wait. Does it even matter? I’ll still be Michael. That is enough.
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