Temporary Insider
Earlier this month, I was hired to travel with an excellent volunteer chorus as they traveled to sing with an orchestra in South America. Professional singers are often hired to supplement the numbers of a church or otherwise avocational choir, and we're called "ringers."
After the dress rehearsal, we lined up on the steps of the theater to take a group photo, and I inadvertently stepped in front of a regular member of the choir and blocked him. "Oh sure, put the tall guy in front of me," he joked. I stepped behind him and said "Oh gosh, I'll stand behind you! I don't care: I'm only here for this one concert!"
As I thought about the incident later, I thought about how I might've sounded a bit cavalier and considered finding him to apologize. Instead, he found me later that night at a reception following the concert. I introduced him to another friend saying "oh god, I sounded like an asshole when I spoke to this guy earlier today!" And I explained what had happened. "I'm really grateful to be here. I only meant I don't care about being featured in group photos!"
"You shouldn't think of yourself as a hired gun," he told me.
"Oh? How should I think of myself?"
"I'll tell you. This is how you should think of yourself and this is how we should treat you: you should think of yourself as a member of the group, however temporary. Even if it's only a week, you're a member!"
We joked and chatted more and got to know each other.
But the next day, I was still thinking about this idea.
I'm an introvert. I was a band nerd growing up. And a closeted homosexual. I sat alone at lunch for weeks at the beginning of some school years. "Outsider" is a very comfortable label for me. I easily write a story in my head that says "nobody here understands me; they won't like me" when I enter a new situation. If I know that I'm unlikely to see the people again, I shut down or stay quiet rather than make an effort to engage.
But what if, just what if, I started thinking of myself as a "temporary insider". What if every party was a party full of people who are excited about the chance to get to know me? Or who love me, but they just don't know it yet?
As I spoke to other members of the chorus last week, I learned how much they truly appreciate the professional ringers who join them. They enjoy hearing our voices blend with theirs. They enjoy getting to know people who have pursued music for the love of it, even though it's hard. They enjoy how we sound together, how the group sounds when it is strong and supported.
Maybe there's a group out there just waiting for you to accept your position as Temporary Outsider.
After the dress rehearsal, we lined up on the steps of the theater to take a group photo, and I inadvertently stepped in front of a regular member of the choir and blocked him. "Oh sure, put the tall guy in front of me," he joked. I stepped behind him and said "Oh gosh, I'll stand behind you! I don't care: I'm only here for this one concert!"
As I thought about the incident later, I thought about how I might've sounded a bit cavalier and considered finding him to apologize. Instead, he found me later that night at a reception following the concert. I introduced him to another friend saying "oh god, I sounded like an asshole when I spoke to this guy earlier today!" And I explained what had happened. "I'm really grateful to be here. I only meant I don't care about being featured in group photos!"
"You shouldn't think of yourself as a hired gun," he told me.
"Oh? How should I think of myself?"
"I'll tell you. This is how you should think of yourself and this is how we should treat you: you should think of yourself as a member of the group, however temporary. Even if it's only a week, you're a member!"
We joked and chatted more and got to know each other.
But the next day, I was still thinking about this idea.
I'm an introvert. I was a band nerd growing up. And a closeted homosexual. I sat alone at lunch for weeks at the beginning of some school years. "Outsider" is a very comfortable label for me. I easily write a story in my head that says "nobody here understands me; they won't like me" when I enter a new situation. If I know that I'm unlikely to see the people again, I shut down or stay quiet rather than make an effort to engage.
But what if, just what if, I started thinking of myself as a "temporary insider". What if every party was a party full of people who are excited about the chance to get to know me? Or who love me, but they just don't know it yet?
As I spoke to other members of the chorus last week, I learned how much they truly appreciate the professional ringers who join them. They enjoy hearing our voices blend with theirs. They enjoy getting to know people who have pursued music for the love of it, even though it's hard. They enjoy how we sound together, how the group sounds when it is strong and supported.
Maybe there's a group out there just waiting for you to accept your position as Temporary Outsider.
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