The Long Journey to Jake Palmer (2 page)

J
ake took a deep breath as he rode the elevator to the eleventh floor of Chicago's Willis Tower. He forced a smile for his own benefit and tried to ignore the churning in his stomach. He could do this; he'd given this talk a million times. Written a book about it. Nothing to it. Like riding a bike.

He smoothed his suit coat and tightened his grip on his briefcase. When the doors finally parted, Jaclyn Thurman was waiting for him.

The woman's style was business casual, but something about the way she adjusted her glasses told him she was all work and no play. Fine by him. She gave his hand a quick shake, then folded hers in front of her as she led him toward the staff training center.

“Your first training session in a year and a half, right?” she asked.

“Right.”

“Glad you came out of retirement.”

“I wasn't retired, I was . . . taking some time off.”

“A sabbatical?”

“Something like that.”

A forced leave of absence was more like it. A complete reset of life as he knew it. Learning to walk again. Learning to live alone. Pretending he was completely healed. Climbing back on the horse that was his consulting business.

“Well, good to have you back in the game,” Jaclyn said.

“Thanks.”

“If the things my business associates say about your talks are true, you're going to take hold of my team, knock 'em dead, and bring them back to life again.”

If his horse didn't buck him off into the cheap seats first.

“I didn't realize you'd hired me to kill people.” Jake raised his eyebrows. “But I do appreciate the compliment. Hope I can live up to it.”

“I'm counting on it.”

Jaclyn's company was high-tech and the office reflected it. Sixty-inch monitors were built into the walls, and Jaclyn commented that the entire office was voice activated. The motif was stark but well designed. White walls and glass dominated the workspace. As she led Jake toward the auditorium where he'd spend the next six and a half hours, he spotted creatively decorated workstations. Individuality. Good. Stark was fine, sterile wasn't.

Jaclyn glanced at her watch as they clipped along the slate floor at a pace just above comfortable. “I told my team to be ready to go at ten o'clock. That gives you nineteen minutes to set up. Is that enough time?”

“Plenty. Thanks.”

They reached a small auditorium filled with two hundred–plus seats, and Jaclyn excused herself. “I'll be back just before ten. I'll send one of my techs in to make sure your laptop is liking our systems. Anything else?”

“I'm good.”

Jaclyn strode away and Jake walked stiffly to the center of the room. He stared at the empty seats and decided there wouldn't be any mingling with the audience as he'd always done. His gait was improving—he worked on it daily—but he didn't want to risk an ill-timed stumble.

By nine fifty-one, Jake was ready, and he moved into a corner of the room to watch Jaclyn's team as they ambled in. He studied the interesting mix of sharply dressed men and women, along with ones who appeared to have just jumped off the all-nighter wagon, and the rest somewhere in between. Again, good. It wasn't a company of clones.

Jaclyn had said she expected thirty-five of the company's staff to show up—as the training was optional—but as Jake studied the men and women seated in the eight or nine semicircle rows, it looked closer to seventy-five. Jake had hoped for the smaller crowd—it created a safer atmosphere for people to tell their stories at the end—but it was an element he couldn't control.

Jaclyn gave a quick introduction, motioned to Jake, and he approached the podium. He studied his fingertips as he tapped them together, then looked back up at Jaclyn's expectant team.

“We”—Jake motioned at the group, then at himself—“have a significant problem.”

He stooped and picked up a large dark green bottle from behind the podium. Its label was blank. Jake lifted it high in the air to his left, then spun on his heel 180 degrees, stopping as he faced the right-hand side of the audience. Then he strode to a small table and smacked the bottle down hard enough to make the table wobble. A smattering of nervous laughter came from the group.

“Yes, we indeed have a serious problem.” Jake steepled his hands, his profile to the audience as he stared at the bottle. He waited another second, then pointed at the crowd. “You . . . have a problem.”

He brought his fingers up to point at himself as he leaned in toward Jaclyn's team. “
I
have a problem. Today I'm going to show you how to fix the problem. But it's your choice whether you want to take action and apply the solution to your life. If you're willing, you will never be the same again.”

He pointed at the green bottle on the table. “Our situation? We are the bottle. Each of us.”

Jake clicked to the first slide of his presentation and a quote filled the sixty-inch screen behind him. He read it slowly, taking time to emphasize each word. “It's extremely difficult to read the label when you're standing inside the bottle.”

He bent slightly at the waist as a smattering of laughter skittered through the crowd. “Hear it once more: it is extremely difficult to read the label when you're standing inside the bottle.”

He scanned the group. “And we are all standing inside our own bottles.”

Jake waited as he always did for realization and small murmurs of acknowledgment to move through the crowd. He let the
nods and quick whispers fade, then picked up the bottle and took two steps forward.

“You get it, don't you?” He laughed. “I see it in your eyes.” He smiled and pointed at the bottle. “For each of us, the label is blank. We don't know the life-changing words that are written there. No clue, believe me. But we need to. How desperately we need to.”

Jake looked around the room, pausing to make eye contact every few seconds.

“And I promise you, what is written on every single one of your bottles are words and phrases and truths more powerful than you can imagine. If you knew what was written there, right there on your label, if you truly knew what other people think of you, if you truly knew the impact you have on them, you would be stunned.

“I know exactly what some of you are thinking. ‘He doesn't know the dark parts of me.' You're right, I don't. Others are thinking, ‘There are so many things written on my label I'm ashamed of.' Yep, I get that too. But here's my suspicion: you've focused on your faults and mistakes and regrets for too many ages to count. It's time to start looking in another direction. Trust me, you're not going to be able to follow the sun by staring at the night. I'm going to suggest you turn your back on the darkness and walk toward the light.”

Jake paused again to gauge the group. Some were checked out. There were always a few. But most were engaged, their eyes locked on his. He moved back and forth a little, ignoring the dull throb of pain in his legs.

“Still others are thinking, ‘Me? No. Other people, sure. They
don't see how powerful they are. I see what they are. Their talents. Gifts. But me? I barely make a ripple. There's next to nothing on my label.' But that proves my point. You see their glory, but not your own. And they see
your
glory, but not
their own.
”

He paused to let the truth sink in. “It is the same with all of us. Me included.”

Jake clicked to his next slide. An image of a woman standing on a precipice in silhouette with a vast mountain range behind her filled the screen.

“Finally, we have the people who know what's on their label, or maybe used to know, but they've forgotten, or they've gone into hiding. They won't let people see their strengths any longer, because something has frightened them, or a personal crisis has taken them out of the arena, or they're too ashamed of something they've done, or something has happened that has made them scared to show people who they really are.”

Jake clicked to the next slide, a photo of a man emerging from a dark forest into bright sunshine. “It's time to step out of the shadows.

“The truth is, most of us are saying every single one of those things, I mentioned, but it's time to stop speaking lies about ourselves. It's time to stop!”

Jake smiled and joined the nervous laughter of those shocked by his shout.

“Yes?” He nodded and most of Jaclyn's team joined him.

“My new friends, it's time to come out of hiding. Time to discover what's on our labels.”

The adrenaline that had never failed to kick in when Jake
spoke pulsed through him. They wouldn't all take hold, but the ones who did would never be the same.

“This isn't hype, this isn't motivational pabulum that will fade when you walk out that door at the end of the day. For the next six hours we're going to go through a comprehensive series of exercises that will help you discover in detail what is written on your label. And if you are able to actually believe what is written there, your life will change so immeasurably, you'll wonder how you lived in ignorance for so many years. Are you ready?”

Jake delivered his first session, then broke the audience into groups of five or six who all knew each other. When they settled, he said, “I want you to do a simple activity. You're going to go around your group and describe to each other what you see on each other's labels. I'll be wandering from group to group to see how you're doing. Don't make this hard. A few things for everyone, then on to the next person. Yes, it might feel strange and uncomfortable at first, but trust me, just go with it.”

After offering them a few more guidelines, Jake wandered through the auditorium catching snippets from each group. Jaclyn's team grabbed the idea and sprinted with it. Nice. He reveled in the looks of hope and surprise on the faces in each group.

As he meandered around the conference room, his gaze kept returning to a woman who talked with her hands and leaned forward as she spoke to her group. Every few seconds she would touch the person on her right or left, and when she did the person's eyes brightened.

Jake ambled over until he was close enough to make out her words. She was heavy, probably on the upside of three hundred
pounds, with piercing blue eyes that matched a sky-blue blouse, her face sun-kissed with the perfect amount of freckles. As she listened to each of the others in her group, she gave tiny nods of her head. There was an inquisitiveness in her eyes as if she was fascinated with their responses.

As he studied her, a middle-aged man from the neighboring group signaled him with a raised hand. Jake had a brief conversation with them about how to read a label when you didn't know a person well. After spending a few minutes with the cluster, he excused himself and moved toward another group wanting his input. But as he chatted with them, his intuition pinged and told him to talk to the woman in blue who had captivated him.

He returned slowly, wanting to time his interruption to the best moment. A few moments later, laughter. As it died, he leaned in.

“Excuse me.” He tapped the lady lightly on the shoulder. “We're going to take a break in about five minutes and I'm wondering if I could talk to you for a few seconds before we do.”

She stared at him with an expression he'd seen many times over the past nine years. Surprise. Nervousness. An
I can't believe the speaker wants to talk to me
look mixed with
Did I do something wrong?

“Talk to me?” The woman pressed her hand against her sky-blue blouse just below her neck. “Right now?”

“If that's okay.”

“Sure.” She shifted in her chair. “I mean, yes, that's fine.”

Jake led her to two empty seats well out of earshot of the rest of the groups and motioned toward the one on the left. “Can we sit?”

“Yes. Of course.” She smoothed her pleated skirt and blinked.

Jake leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands. “Listen, I don't want this to be awkward and I don't mean to make you feel nervous, but I feel like I have to tell you something.”

“Okay.” She brushed back her hair and pressed her lips together tight.

“My name is Jake.” He offered his hand. “What's yours?”

“Rachelle.”

“It's good to meet you, Rachelle.”

“You too.” Her breaths came out in little puffs.

Jake started to speak, but before he could get the first word out, Rachelle blurted, “I'm talking too much in my group, aren't I? I need to give the others more time. And I kind of ended up taking over and I should have sat back more. I'm sorry about that. Really.”

Jake shook his head and smiled. “I have to disagree. I think you're wrong. I don't think you're reading your label with any kind of accuracy. You don't talk too much. Not even close. And you haven't taken over.”

He waved his hands toward the men and woman clustered in groups of five and six. “As you saw, I've spent a good deal of the past forty-five minutes going to each group, watching them, listening to them, helping them with questions if they needed it, offering suggestions, sitting in for a moment if they wanted me to. Encouraging them to speak. Lighting the match, to use a cliché.”

Rachelle nodded. “Okay.”

“I've done that with every group.” Jake held up his forefinger. “All of them except one.”

“Mine.”

“Yes. Did you notice I haven't dropped in?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you think I haven't engaged?”

“We're not made up of the important people in the company and you only have so much time.”

Jake laughed and held his thumb and forefinger up to his eyes. “We need to buy you reading glasses for that label of yours.”

“What?” Rachelle squished up her face and stared at him.