It’s Friday. I wake at 5am to get ready for the airport. Who or what has me up at this hour?
A woman I met online just 2 weeks ago, Suzy Welch. Yes, GE mogul Jack Welch’s widow. Suzy and I met on TikTok. Which means I became one of her 12,000 TikTok followers and she has no idea who I am.
If this “seems too fast”, in my defense you can’t watch Suzy’s content and not wonder if you’re one in-person conversation away from becoming her new best friend. Suzy is a professor at NYU’s Stern School of Business, teaching management and the “class where everyone cries” – Becoming You. People cry because Becoming You helps those with a deep longing to uncover their purpose – find it.
All I can say is I can’t wait to cry.
I’ve had a lot of jobs. None of them as interesting as Suzy’s. I was never a crime reporter for the Miami Herald. I never graduated from an Ivy League business school, to then be recruited by a top consulting firm. I’ve never been a badass single mom raising 4 kids with a full time job. Nor have I been a contributor to the Today Show, or a columnist for Oprah magazine.
I have worked as a lifeguard at White Water in Marietta, Georgia. I did graduate with a 3.0 from a second tier state university. I did get a degree in an industry that would collapse 2 years after graduation due to the launch of the “world wide web”. I did move into a career in sales where I was consistently under quota, earning barely over my base salary. I did go back to art school at 30 years old to learn web design. I did win the portfolio competition, creaming my 18 year old competitors. I did have a marginally successful career as a designer and marketer, but as the years clicked along was left wondering – is this it?
Then the algorithm served up Suzy Welch. Within an hour of consuming most of her feed, I was booking her 1-day “Becoming You” workshop, held on the NYU campus.
So it’s travel day and my sweet daughter Jia says "no problem" when I ask if she can drive me to the airport. As we reach downtown Atlanta the "low tire pressure" light pops on. Perfect. An alternative future flashes through my mind: wake 5am, get flat tire, miss flight, miss workshop, miss out on finally uncovering my purpose.
Damn.
Why things do or don't happen is such a mystery to me. I’m just glad I stopped asking myself “Why?” a few years ago. Turns out it’s the most maddening one-word question you can ask yourself besides “Seriously?”
We call Wyatt who helps us diagnose the low tire pressure alert as “not urgent”, and hold our breath as we make it safely to the airport. At dropoff I get out and circle the car, hands on hips assessing the situation and with a ridiculous amount of confidence tell Jia I think she can make it to Dad’s house. Thankfully she did.
As I enter the airport I realize I have the McGurgles. Last night I went out for cheese curds and a couple of old fashioneds with my buddy Becky. Becky is proof you never know who has won an Emmy. Then you’re on a Zoom call and find yourself asking “are those Emmy’s behind you?!?” Becky is a journalist and worked for USA Today until just recently. She looks happier than ever. Turns out the news biz is hard. Long hours covering events most of us want to ignore.
Anyway when I drink more than 2 old fashioneds, the next day my body is eager to get everything out. Problem is, I’m traveling and historically very “poop shy” which means public, multi-stall restrooms are not my friend. The minute I step outside my home, my digestive tract goes into sleep mode.
Getting seated on the plane, I ask Jesus to spare me a visit to the airplane bathroom. I’m then distracted and filled with intense jealousy when I notice my seatmate cuddled in a giant fluffy jacket. I somehow make it through the flight without pooping, freezing to death or asking my next door neighbor for a cuddle.
As I exit the plane, our handsome young pilot stands at the cockpit door, smiling proudly as if to say “I did it!” You sure did buddy and I’m sincerely grateful. But please – stay in the damn cockpit until you’re over 40 years old. Over 40 is when you can begin greeting arriving and departing guests. Finding out a 24 year old just flew me across the country is terrifying. Keep me in the dark for God’s sake.
It’s 12,000 steps from my gate to ground transportation (thank you JFK airport?) and I successfully navigate to Uber pickup. Traveling alone and getting where I’m going with minimal errors and confusion is for me like graduating from Harvard business school. I hit each milestone in my travels and (in my mind) raise my hands high above my head as if I've just completed a 5K in less than 4 hours.
I arrive at the Washington Square Hotel and am immediately confused by the doorman’s job. Is he supposed to open the door for me? I excuse it thinking maybe even doormen get caught up in daydream. After 3-4 more times opening this door myself I realize his job must NOT be to open the door for guests – OR this guy is just terrible at his job.
I wondered maybe it’s just me? I'm not a New Yorker, so naturally I may not understand what a man dressed as a doorman does? Is he only a bellman? There to carry bags and carry bags alone, nothing more?
To thoroughly describe my interaction with what I assumed was a bellman or doorman, I approached the Washington Square Hotel. I'm not rushing in the door because I'm constantly discombobulated, turned-around tourist vibes and not even sure I'm at the right hotel. With this in mind, I'm approaching slowly each time I enter the hotel.
The doorman has plenty of time to lock eyes with me before I even touch the door. The sequence of events is as follows:
I'm approximately 10 to 12 steps away from the door.
We lock eyes.
The door is not within my reach.
The door is within his reach.
I approach slowly, confirming I'm at the right place, confirming that yes, this is the same doorman who did not open the door for me the last three times I approached the door.
Confirmed.
At the last minute, I extend my arm to open the door for my own queen self (which is wrong on so many levels) as he stares blankly at the front desk.
I've been to New York enough times to understand that certain customs differ from my Southern expectations. But I’m fairly certain "doorman" hasn’t been completely redefined to mean "person who stands motionless near doors."
I begin to surmise this guy may also need to find his purpose.
With each entry and exit, I conduct a sort of social experiment. I approach at varying speeds – sometimes practically in slow motion, giving him enough time to not only open the door but possibly write a dissertation about it. He remains unmoved, developing a fascinating talent for becoming deeply engrossed in front desk activities precisely as I approached the hotel.
Upon entering you’d typically get a greeting of some kind, how was your evening, good night, good morning, kiss my ass, something. No. Zero words. This eventually led me to believe I may be observing some kind of fancy NYC performance art, this “doorman” portraying a statuesque, silent mime.
In an effort to shake his resolve, upon departure I make a scene, dragging my bag down a dozen marble stairs to exit with as much noise and ruckus I could muster. No reaction.
The Karen within me kept wondering, “where is this man’s manager?!?” Maybe he was the manager? The thought did cross my mind that perhaps this man, as he locked eyes with me, had some kind of supernatural connection to Source that informed him…
“this woman has zero social media presence and will not leave a review of any damning consequence and therefore the reputation of this hotel is NOT at risk if I fail to assist her in door opening and baggage handling”.
Who knows. Aside from the door opening debacle, my experience at Washington Square Hotel is delightful, because let’s be honest 3-star New York hotels are the best. I don't want more stars. More stars typically means less wacky stuff to observe.
I check-in and am directed to a single tiny elevator where I’m successfully transported to the 4th floor. Yes, I did ask Jesus to not let me get stuck. 3-star hotels keep God by your side – nobody prays like that at a 5-star hotel.
As I exit the elevator there are room signs with arrows pointing everywhere. 405-415 →, ← 400-404, 416-424 →. This hotel is chopped up like a circus maze. I find my direction and proceed down the 1-foot-wide hallway, again speaking to Jesus, thanking him I didn’t bring a bigger suitcase.
My room is a crackerbox with about 2 feet around the bed to navigate. Still it’s clean and it looks like the bathrooms are newly renovated. Complications will come, but for now I’m thrilled with my 3-star experience.
In the evening is dinner with my “not technically adopted” 3rd child. Carter and her twin sister Sydney are close friends with my eldest, Georgia. They came over a lot in high school and Carter in particular would come over even when Georgia wasn't home. That’s when I knew either this child isn’t being fed at home or she sincerely enjoys hanging out.
The new young man she's been dating, Joe, joins us towards the end of dinner. Joe is wearing a white cable knit sweater and is from Connecticut. He’s oozing some kind of “kin to Martha Stewart” vibe which of course I'm drawn to.
Even though he's not attending Brown, in my imagination he is. His humor, style and class is on lock. I silently wish Georgia would attract a classy New England fellow instead of the cornfed, Trump-loving farm boys she seems to be wrangling at UGA. Wait. I’m sure they’re sweet. It’s fine. Hank did say a country boy will survive.
The next morning I awake, excited at 52 years old to finally unlock my elusive purpose. I eagerly skip to the shower where I encounter a series of 6 controls. I squint to see what the hell these knobs control.
Frustrated and nude, I walk back to the bed, fumbling through my bag to find reading glasses. I thank Jesus (again) that I’ve not lost them and hastily make my way back to the shower. Peering closely, I’m finally able to make out which one of the knobs dispenses hot water.
I head down for breakfast and my day is off to a sensational start when I encounter two women at the dank hotel restaurant talking about the NYT Game, Connections.
I feel compelled to scream across the restaurant that I recently got Wordle in 2, and when it happened I accidentally squealed loudly. It's too much to get into but I was at a military base when it happened, and wound up startling a room full of parents about to ship their kids off to bootcamp. If their nerves weren’t already shot, that certainly didn’t help.
“What’s your starting word?” They asked.
“GREAT” I replied.
“Oh that’s awesome to start so positive!” They replied with delight.
I beamed, also recognizing how clever it is to start Wordle on a positive note.
With a skip in my step I walk through Washington Square, past a surprising number of homeless and drug dealers also up and ready to get their day started early! I land on the NYU campus and erroneously enter 2 different buildings before seeing the very clearly marked “Becoming You” signage.
I bravely choose to sit near other humans even though I have no desire to speak with anyone for fear of breaking focus on my purpose. Why would I want to socialize with a bunch of people who also don’t know their purpose? I’m here for answers, not further confusion.
Prior to the event, participants are prompted to take a series of tests to measure our values, personality traits, talents and interests. By the time you arrive, you feel thoroughly invested in a damn outcome! A half hour before class begins Suzy casually walks in, donning some classy-ass NYC professor outfit with boots. If this were a date from Bumble I’d say she definitely looks like her photos.
It’s important to note the Becoming You curriculum is typically taught in an 8 week course at NYU. Suzy condenses it to two shorter formats, a 3-day and 1-day workshop. For the one day version, If Suzy’s personality weren’t so delightful, the deluge of incredibly useful information would have simply been too much.
She kicks off the class with a warning about the volume of content we’re about to consume and that we may find our greatest insights show up after we’ve returned to real life. I internally come to peace with this idea, even though my true desire is to have the purpose and career path I’ve waited 52 years to unveil – solidly defined within the next 8 hours.
Suzy has made this suggestion, and I accept it as my potential future. Same as I flew to NY just 2 weeks after meeting her online, her in-person energy is so powerful, literally any suggestion she makes sounds plausible if not immediately actionable.
She launches into the material, weaving in personal stories along the way that illuminate her own journey to finding purpose. Which of course is helping others find theirs. Her storytelling touches on milestones in her professional life that hover at obnoxious levels of achievement and success, and yet she maintains total likability.
One of these stories revolves around her graduating #1 in her class at Harvard Business School. Ok queen. Turns out the individual who graduates top of the class gets their entire business school education paid. She describes the car she drove back then, the entitled finance bros who thought they knew everything, not getting picked for a study group and how driven she was to hit that top spot because her and her husband at the time were broke.
Ok. Relatable… ish.
Whether she’s relatable or not is eventually of little concern when she starts digging into the material. She and her team have developed several tools specifically for this class, one being the “Values Bridge”. She’s identified 15 core values that every person holds at varying degrees:
Achievement - inner desire for success
Affluence - importance of wealth
Agency - desire for self-determination and personal control
Beholderism - importance of aesthetics
Belonging - importance of friends and sociability in your life
Cosmos - importance of faith
Eudemonia - emphasis you put on having fun
Familycentrism - emphasis on family
Luminance - inner desire for wide recognition or fame
Nonsibi - inner desire to help others
Place - importance of a specific location
Radius - desire to change the world
Scope - desire for excitement, action, learning, and continual newness
Voice - desire to be seen, heard, and appreciated
Workcentrism - importance of work
My top were affluence, beholderism, cosmos, eudemonia and achievement, which translates into:
I value wealth, beauty, God and achievement all while having a good time.
Sounds ridiculous, but is it?
In January I decided my mantra for 2025 is to “create art that makes people (including myself) laugh and think”.
Am I laughing and thinking as I write this? I am.
Am I having a good time? I am.
Is writing this story an achievement? It is.
Has Jesus been mentioned? Thrice thus far!
Did this story bring beauty to my life? It did.
Wealth? Too early to tell.
Suzy, I think I’m onto something here.
Next up we’re into our results for the You Science aptitude test. This measures what you’re good at on a practical level. The origami test revealed I’m good at working with 3D objects. Not a huge surprise, but the test essentially said in ALL CAPS I need to be doing crafts. For validation I’ll be referencing this paperwork as I’m checking out for Joann’s going out of business sale.
Also in our pre-work for the class is the RHETI Enneagram test. My results were similar in 2025 as 2019, revealing I’m a peacemaker, enthusiast and helper type. To summarize, I’m “very excited about making peace”.
Next is the “Career Traits Compass” which measures 4 bundles of personality traits linked to professional success: Nerve, elasticity, wonderment and soundness. Suzy explains that values are with you for life, unchangeable, while interests and certain personality traits can be honed over time. For example, I scored very low in the Nerve category which means I’m too tired (and probably too Southern) to make a quick decision to cuss somebody out.
I’m only partially kidding. I really did score low in Nerve which tells me I need to work on being more direct and have more confidence in my decision making. I scored very high in wonderment which tracks with my interest in new technologies.
From here Suzy segues into our next topic around industries and megatrends. Her industry bingo exercise illuminates how many of us look at opportunities available to us through the lens of our own experience and network. By the end of the exercise it’s abundantly clear that lens can be very narrow and limiting.
All of this may sound ethereal I’m sure, but believe me Suzy wants you leaving with answers or at least the tools to get answers. At the end of the day she shows a video of a guy who has found his purpose:
Tiktok failed to load.Enable 3rd party cookies or use another browser
Living in his “Area of Transcendence”:
She describes the area of transcendence as that place where you feel exquisitely alive.
Exquisitely alive…
Well watching Suzy teach for 8 hours it’s abundantly clear at least one of us in this room is living exquisitely alive. Towards the end of the session, while I sit exhausted from simply observing, Suzy’s energy is still soaring. Her patience with the ding-a-ling’s that keep asking questions that apply only to them is next level, while I feel my Nerve welling up to scream “sit down and shut up!”
We end the session with a group photo where my face is inevitably covered by some bozo in front of me. Meh. It’s ok. I didn’t rank high in the Luminance anyway.
As I stroll away from NYU to navigate back to JFK airport I see this in Washington Square:
Little did I know this would be the very last sweet thing in my day.
Yesterday, on the way from the airport to the hotel I took a $95 Uber that wound up costing $145. In a court jester move (and against 21 year old Connecticut Joe’s advice) I decided I was going to punk the system on the way home and take the subway to the airport.
I knew I’d made a poor choice when I found myself eating pre-made sushi out of a box.
I took the subway, then Long Island Railroad to the AirTrain. I lugged my bag up and down 10 flights of stairs along the way, where approximately 4 escalators I could have used were out of order. On this journey I realized what is also out of order – me traveling like a peasant.
I received a slight respite when passing a man playing pan flute in the subway and another man singing “The Thrill is Gone” in the train station. I don't know who the thrill was most gone for - him or me. The thrill of this adventure was certainly gone by the time I hit Penn Station, but I'm also not sitting on a train station floor with an amp and guitar playing my best BB King.
In the most foul of moods I find myself on the plane, in row 35D. I’m directly across from the toilet – with no choice but to consume the bathroom-air-freshener-covered-urine smell. I’ve already smelled urine approximately 40% of my journey prior to being seated next to the lavatory on the plane. Maybe it's me but this seems like too much urine smell for one day.
Fuming, it crosses my mind that my frequent flyer partner Nora has allowed me to book two flights without offering Skymiles points or seat upgrades. At first I blow it off – no big deal – but an hour and a half of this bathroom door opening and closing with odors I'm too old to tolerate is filling me with rage.
I told her I’ve been spoiled with our comfortable travel to the point that I’m now fully rotten. This is code for “book all of my travel so I don't have to suffer like a commoner”. She unfortunately did not receive my coded message.
Adding insult to injury, 10 minutes before we land I glance back and see DOZENS of empty seats behind me. Rows of empty, odor-free areas of transcendence. As I deplaned, still wafting essence-of-lavatory, I reflect on Suzy’s teaching of what makes me feel ‘exquisitely alive’. I can’t say I’m 100% on this yet but I do think it directly correlates to Delta Comfort+.
They say when the student is ready, the teacher appears. I believe my introduction to Suzy was divinely orchestrated by the same higher power who thought it would be hilarious to put me in seat 35D. Ok Jesus, you take the wheel – I’ll bring snacks!
Share this post