Will this matter in ten years?

(Reposting from a previous blog with some slight editing and an updated ending)

I came out of the classroom and wanted to scream. I had spent hours studying for the Econ 101 test, but I felt like I had been lied to by the professor. His test included a number of questions on topics that had been barely covered in class or our textbook and other content that had been discussed ad nauseam was barely even mentioned. I struggled on the exam and now feared the worst.

I started walking back to my dorm, but I wanted to laugh, cry, scream and throw a punch all at the same time. I felt horrible, so I stopped and sat down on a bench under a small row of elm trees. The sun had set and it felt much later than the time. The black, starless sky matched my mood.

I had a million things going on in my life. I was trying to study and take an 18-credit course load; work 20 hours a week to pay for college; write every other day for my college newspaper; be an active participant in a fraternity and have something resembling a social life. In between, I was also freelancing for my hometown newspaper, writing the occasional feature story. On top of that, I wanted to succeed for myself and my family. I wanted to show everyone that I had what it takes to get a college degree. As you might expect, I was failing in my attempt. I was doing nothing well.

I sat for the longest time on the bench. I didn’t open my backpack or any of my books. I just sat there in the dark. I wanted to escape. I knew two of my fraternity brothers would be looking for me. We had made plans — after the test we were going to catch a bite to eat before I had to get to my part-time job working in the library.

Where to turn, where to go?

I looked down at my watch, but I felt no desire to get up off the bench. I finally started to think about my options. I could fret over the test some more and blame the professor for my problems; cancel on my friends and job and get drunk; or runaway and quit. I didn’t like any of my options.

I was woken from my stupor by an old man, who I assumed was a professor or college administrator walking home for the night. He stopped in front of me. He had an umbrella in his hand and a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He asked if everything was okay. I said I was fine and that I was just taking a moment to rest before heading back to my dorm.

He looked at me briefly and then up at the sky and said that it was a nice night to be out. He praised me for my “wisdom in stopping to take in the beauty.” He wished me a good night, and was gone.

Something to consider

I watched him until I couldn’t see him any longer and laughed at his choice of the words. I certainly didn’t feel very wise or smart. I tried to get back to my problem, but I couldn’t get him out of my head. I wondered if he still worried about things like tests, even ones he took years earlier. I couldn’t imagine that he still fretted over such things. He seemed the cheerful sort.

In that moment, it hit me: I needed a new approach. I needed to let the test go. I needed to hand my bigger problems to God or a higher being and just focus on the next steps. I couldn’t change the test now. I needed to focus on the things I could control. I wasn’t performing rocket science. I wasn’t on the operating table with another person’s life in my hands. I was a simple student trying to get through the day. Yes, I needed to perform my best, but I didn’t need to take on the weight of the world. I remember asking myself: “Ten years from now will it still matter.”

One step at a time

I took a deep breath, got up and headed back to my dorm. I took one step forward then another and another. Nothing had changed in those 40 minutes on the bench. My situation was still the same, I just had a different attitude. I decided from that point on I wouldn’t worry about what I couldn’t control. I wasn’t going to worry about spilt milk, I would worry about the next test, the next challenge.

I can’t recall now what I ever got on that test. I remember little about the class, except that I survived. I found an old notebook from that class recently and, before I threw it out, I paged through it to see if I could find a grade. I found nothing.

The only thing I remember now is what I apologized to my friends for being late and we did go out for pizza, but I didn’t stay out long before heading off to my job. I got up early the next morning and went back to the grind, striving to do better the next time.

Words to live by

I thought about that advice last week, I was getting ready to go to a meeting that I knew would be a tough one. I would be put on the spot and tested. I reminded myself once again that I had done all the necessary preparation and all that was left was for me to do my best.

I gave myself one last pep talk. I asked myself: “Ten years from now, will it matter how I performed in this particular meeting? Will I even remember this meeting? If not, then relax and do your best.”

I’ve been in a ton of stressful situations and given myself mini pep-talks over the years, but I can’t imagine a better message. I was right on point then and now: Will it matter ten years from now?