It was a Saturday morning, I was home attending a conference’s call, when I heard a knock on my door.
I looked through the windows and saw a young lady waiting outside, holding a clipboard and a pen.
I opened and she greeted me with a “Good Morning, sorry to bother you,” before she added “I am a realtor. I just sold a house in this block , and I wanted to extend my services to you and your family.”
She told me her name showing me her Keller Williams badge with Danielle Gilchrist written on it. She handed me a flyer with her contact information “in case you need it,” she said with a smile and good eye contact.
I took the paper congratulating her to have the courage to be out there knocking doors for her business.
She thanked me and asked me for my contact information with my email and a phone number.
A couple of days went by. We kept the connection on line.
She called me yesterday. I missed her called and she texted asking me to connect. I replied to her text. Then called her back.
We spoke for a couple of minutes, found common ground, and convened to meet, greet, and talk.
That’s what we did earlier today at a coffee shop in Coral Springs, Florida.
Talking to Danielle was fun. She used words and expressed thoughts and feelings with fluent agility, amazing capability, vibrant smiles and gestures.
She exhibits self-confidence, passion, and dedication for what she does, who she is, and where she’s heading in life.
She told me about her journey as a realtor, her mindset to be out there seeing the people, her decisiveness to take the road less traveled of entrepreneurship.
We also spoke about books. She is reading Joseph Murphy’s “The power of the Subconscious Mind.” I told her about Garry Keller’s book “The One Thing.”
We also chatted about our Caribbean roots. Danielle is from Jamaica. I am from Haiti. I told her about places I visited in Kingston and the pleasure I had discovering places like Spanish Town, Trench Town, and Coronation Market.
She told me about her boyfriend being from Haiti and the war they entertain at each other on the question of “who does cook the best food, the best kalalou.”
I made sure not to take side keeping my white meutral flag high and avoiding to be a collateral damage in this war of palates and taste at that level of our relationship’s building.
I laughed out loud telling her “besides my mom, my wife, Marijo, is the best cook I know.”
We will get together next week and follow up on our conversations and promises.
What a difference a knocking at a door can make!