Not Perfect, But Wild

By Vanessa Millones

Have you ever wondered what it might be like to work in the White House or what it might be like working on a presidential campaign? Vanessa Millones invites you to join her journey; sharing stories of failure, success and growth.

In this book you will read about:

• An insider's view of what it was like coming out of t

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Degree Press
• Release date: Dec 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781636761862

Book preview

Not Perfect, But Wild

Vanessa Millones

new degree press

copyright © 2020 Vanessa Millones

All rights reserved.

Not Perfect, But Wild

ISBN

978-1-63676-641-6 Paperback

978-1-63676-184-8 Kindle Ebook

978-1-63676-186-2 Digital Ebook

For all the wild souls

But mostly, my mama

Contents

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Acknowledgment

Introduction

Chapter 1

When I Grow Up

Chapter 2

A Change of Course

Chapter 3

November 9th, 2016

Chapter 4

Just the Beginning

Chapter 5

Our Decade

Chapter 6

The Waitress

Chapter 7

The Last (Few) Day(s)

Chapter 8

Last Call

Chapter 9

One

Chapter 10

Family-Away-From-Home

Chapter 11

Adaptation

CONCLUSION

Wild

Appendix

Acknowledgment

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I would like to acknowledge all the people who cheered me on, whom without their time, support, and feedback, this would not be possible:

(in alphabetical order)

Aisling, Alex, An, Annie, Anusha, Armel, Brandi, Carly, Caro and Bruno, Carolina, Catherine, Chandradip, Chinonso, Tina, Claire, Dave, Deshawn, Lyzz, Emily, Emma, Eric, Esther, Georgette, Grace, Ham, Hannah, Joanna, John, Jules, Karen, Kashish, Liz, Lusi, Madrina,

Marisel, Melanie, Michael, Nam, Nausheen, Pam and Kay, Patty, Paul, Raquel, Rebecca, Rishi, Rosa, Rukku, Sam, Shelbi, Sorin, Steven, Ted, TJ, Veronica, and certainly not last: Victor Millones and Virinder Nohria

Introduction

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Names were changed to protect the identity and reputation of co-workers and companies. Names that were changed will have an asterisk appear by those names or places for that purposes.

There is no story without the protagonist falling down face flat. There is no story without a battle lost.

It was one of those scorching hot summer days in DC. The kind when you already know just by looking at the haze outside your window that you’ll drench in sweat the moment you step out.

I remember walking into the restaurant to clock into my shift that night. Our AC had shut off earlier that month, so all we had were three large portable air conditioners blasting cool(ish) air for our guests. I quickly changed into my uniform, consisting of regular blue jeans and a bright blue T-shirt with the restaurant’s logo on the front. Restaurants in DC during August are usually fairly empty since Congress is out of session, and all the students are off on their summer vacations. This particular evening was an exception.

As the hours passed by and more guests came trickling in, the sweat and heat took over, slowing me down with every step. Toward the end of my shift, I walked to my last table as what I can only imagine looking disheveled and wild. I approached a young couple, repeating with a forced smile the same line I’d said countless times before, Good evening, folks. I’m Vanessa, and I’ll be your server tonight.

The gentleman put his hand up, waving it at my face and with an eye roll and monotonously said, It is really hot in here. Can’t you turn on the AC?

I’m sorry, sir, I answered tiredly, unfortunately our AC is down, but we have these fans here to help keep you cool.

He rolled his eyes again. As he looked at my noticeably damp T-shirt and sweaty forehead, he continued, Well, I can’t stop sweating. Can’t you do anything about that?

I stayed quiet, unsure whether he truly expected me to answer.

He shook his head and continued to place his order.

Ten minutes later, their appetizers came out. As they both slurped down their first oysters, I repeated in my head, Please like them. Please like them. Please like them. But, as most servers anticipate with difficult patrons, I was summoned with a quick snap after the first taste.

Seemingly annoyed by my mere presence, he pointed to his plate and erupted, I ordered large salty oysters. As I widened my eyes to prevent my impulse of rudely clapping back, I responded with a smirk, Well, sir, these are our largest and briniest oysters. If you want bigger ones, then you’ll have to get the mild kind.

He repeated his order once again, this time slowly and with large gestures as if trying to translate his words. Like I said, sir, I replied with a sigh, these are the saltiest and largest kinds we have available. He dismissed me with another eye roll and shooed me away.

This moment is ingrained in my memory.

Here I was: an intelligent and accomplished young woman who had worked at the White House for President Barack Obama, filled with ambition and goals of how to change the world. And yet, my reality was that I was drenched in a sweat trying to soothe a dissatisfied customer who saw me as nothing more than a uniform.

What happened?

What I did not realize then, and what I know now having heard, seen, and read in countless stories, is this: There is no story without the protagonist falling down face flat; there is no success story without a battle lost.

But how could I have foreseen that this moment was not only a rite of passage but a journey of rediscovery and self-reflection? If I had just an inkling of it then, it would have been too small for me to trust, let alone even notice. I was a woman lost without a plan.

The fact is, I love plans. My mother, who loves them even more, molded me. She taught me to make plans, make plans within plans, and to follow them. When things go off track, things go off-balance. I become uncomfortable and disoriented. I become lost.

This probably sounds familiar. Lookup any article on how to become successful, and you will find the following words and phrases: hard work, focus, goal setters, avoid weakness, accountability.

It’s common for ambitious people to set and follow a trajectory. If we break it, we fear we might not recover that focus. That’s why we hold on so tightly to those goals, terrified we might lose them one day, or worse, not achieve them.

When I left the White House in January 2017, I planned to go to a top business school, graduate, and get a fancy job. That spring, I got conditionally accepted to Wharton Business School, a big check off my to-do list. But that spring, I met a very special man who inspired me to shuffle things around and live differently, which meant taking risks and deviating oh so slightly. I ended up telling Wharton I needed a gap year.

That gap year was the most carefree I had ever been in my entire life. I learned the hard and very fun work of the hospitality industry. It required a side of my skills I had not really developed. At the same time, I was consulting and working on issues I felt were still deeply impactful. And in my personal life, I was falling in love with a bartender opening my eyes to a new and thrilling world. But, at the end of the day, I still knew I was going to business school.

A year later, and a year filled with adventures and eccentricities, I was packing my bags to leave DC. My consulting contract had ended, and I was still waitressing on the side for extra cash. Remember that conditional part I mentioned earlier? That part required me to take a Wharton business math test and score eighteen out of thirty to get accepted. This is the part of the story where things get off course. I failed by two points. They gave me one more chance, and that time, I failed even worse by eight points. After numerous conversations and a phony verbal promise from their end that I would be attending in the fall, they ended up rescinding my acceptance.

I was living my nightmare. All the hard work, all the determination, all the goals—they were all for nothing. Or, at least, that’s what I kept repeating to myself.

What had I done? Was I foolish to take this gap year? Why did I decide to start waitressing? Was it because of my partner? Should I blame him? Did I not study enough? Did I not want to go to business school badly enough? Did I still want to go to business school?

I was lost, had reached rock bottom—an utter failure.

But breaking the trajectory, the line, doesn’t mean you stop achieving your goals. Quite the opposite—these breaks give you time to recenter, to soul search, and pivot. They bring you (back) to exactly where you were heading all along. Take it from someone who spent an entire year going through uncertainty, wrestling with her thoughts and inner anxieties of coulda, woulda, shouldas.

By no means is this a step-by-step help book on how to manage through wavering and unknown times. This is a book of reflection; a book of personal anecdotes that I oftentimes come back to in times of confusion or darkness. What I hope these stories can provide you is a small sense of relief or at least space for you to take a deep breath knowing that whatever challenges you’re facing, in the end, it really will be okay.

The year 2020 has been bumpy for all of us. With the COVID-19 pandemic and unraveled consequences it has, along with racial reckoning and an extremely divisive political climate, many of us are likely experiencing some form of imbalance and somberness. Yet, I hope these small and colorful stories bring you comfort. In times of loss of control or confusion, especially for those who might not have a lot of experience with those scenarios, I have found it helpful to not