Some moments in life stay with you forever.
For me, one of those moments involves a giant foam cowboy hat.
It was around 2003. I had already been in real estate for about ten years, I was seven months pregnant with my daughter Sarah, and I was selling new homes for Trend Homes.
We were sitting in one of our regular sales meetings. Probably 25 of us. All competitive. All used to performing. And our manager had everybody’s name sitting inside this ridiculous foam cowboy hat.
The exercise sounded simple enough. When your name was called, you stood up and gave a quick presentation about your neighborhood. Features, benefits, why someone should want to live there. Basically an elevator pitch.
The problem was, I had completely misunderstood what we were supposed to prepare.
I realized that as soon as the first person stood up. They were great. I was not ready.
So there I sat, watching that stupid hat get passed around while names kept getting pulled. Not Rebecca. Not Rebecca. Not Rebecca.
Every name that wasn’t mine bought me another few seconds, but it also made it worse because I knew eventually there weren’t going to be many names left.
Rebecca, you’re next.
I stood up. And completely bombed.
I stumbled over my words. I could feel my face getting hot. My thoughts weren’t coming out the way I wanted them to, and the more aware I became of it, the worse it got.
I remember looking around that room and feeling like some of the people there were enjoying watching me fail. Maybe they were. Maybe they weren’t. It honestly doesn’t matter anymore.
At the time, though, I wanted to disappear underneath the conference table. I can still remember exactly how that felt.
And then life asked me to stand up again.
Years later, I was offered a General Sales Manager position. It was an incredible opportunity. It also meant standing in front of hundreds of people at company meetings.
And some of those people had been in that room with the foam cowboy hat.
That old feeling came right back. What if I froze again? What if I embarrassed myself? What if everyone figured out I wasn’t as capable as they thought I was?
I came very close to letting one terrible moment from years earlier make a decision about the rest of my career.
Instead, I took the job.
And then I started doing something that felt completely backward at the time. I put myself in front of people on purpose.
One of the first things I did was start teaching contract law for new-home professionals at the Arizona School of Real Estate and Business.
Standing in front of a classroom was uncomfortable. So I kept doing it.
Eventually, it became less uncomfortable. Then the rooms got bigger. There were panels. Interviews. Cameras. Television. Speaking engagements.
Not because I magically stopped getting nervous. I just stopped believing nervous meant I shouldn’t be there.
Funny what one awful moment can turn into.
In 2016, I found myself preparing to sit on a panel at the Arizona School of Real Estate and Business alongside people I respected tremendously.
And I remember thinking about that younger version of me. The pregnant woman standing in a sales meeting wishing the floor would swallow her whole. She would never have believed this.
For a long time, I thought confidence was something certain people were simply born with. I don’t anymore.
Most of the confidence I have today came from doing something badly, surviving it, and eventually being willing to do it again.
That applies to a lot more than public speaking. Real estate has given me plenty of opportunities to be uncomfortable. Markets change. Deals fall apart. You walk into rooms where someone knows more than you. You make mistakes. You learn.
And sometimes the thing you would most like to forget ends up being one of the things that shaped you the most.
I still hate that damned foam cowboy hat. But I’m grateful for it, too.