I remember the first time I realized I had something special. I was a floorman at one of the clubs I worked, in Dallas, and somebody told me, “You’re kind of hustler.” I’d never thought of myself, that way. I was just talking to people, and selling the products, I had to sell. It never occurred to me that I was doing anything remarkable. Of course, when you tell people that you worked in a BYOB strip club, selling sparkling cider for $400 a bottle, they usually respond with varying degrees of disgust; but after the disgust subsides, even the most mortified have to admit that it’s an impressive feat to sell someone a $400 bottle of juice, without lying to him. That’s where my swagger was born.
Swagger isn’t just about sales. In fact, swagger isn’t mostly about sales. Swagger is the quality that allows me to interact with ease. I realized my swagger, while I worked in that environment. I may never have realized it under different circumstances, but it didn’t come from there. It came from me. Swagger is why I didn’t fight. It’s why I didn’t strut around, preening for attention. I had nothing to prove. My swagger allowed me the freedom to tell it like it is. I never had to put on airs, or make any apologies for who I am. I was just “doing me.” So, you can imagine my dismay, having left my swagger behind. It left me uncertain of who I was.
I have tried to leave the bar business, several times, but I kept going back because I didn’t know what else to do. Who am I, if I’m not BFK? The reason I defined myself by what I did was because I thought that was where my swagger came from. My brother actually said to me, “What happened to you? You were this big, impressive personality, and now you’re just vanilla.” He, of course, said this to me, under the influence of Miller Light; but his words rang true. I had lost my swagger. I must have complained, a thousand times, that, while everyone wanted me to quit the industry, nobody had told me what I was supposed to do, next. It was because I was supposed to “do me,” and get on with my life. How hard is that? Pretty damned hard, if you don’t feel like yourself. So, I packed it in, and went back to the clubs, where I was, once again, the man with the silver tongue and the million dollar handshake. It’s only now that I see the truth that I can still be me, without the clubs. I simply have to apply my swagger to a world without strobe lights and fruit scented body spray. Which brings me to the “how” of it all…
On Sunday’s installment of the Inspired Revolution, we talked about “acting as if.” Mama had a great analogy about going to the bank to pick up a check for $15,000, which I was very disappointed to hear was only a fiction. However, the point she was making was that, sometimes, you’ve got to “fake it, til you make it.” So, I should behave, as though my swagger was never lost. Carry myself the way I would, if I was in full swagger. Talk the same way… Stand the same way… Interact like BFK.
Swagger has many names. Some people call it moxy. Others refer to it as strut. If you’re feeling particularly hood rat-y, you might call it stuntin. The definition, however, is the same. Swagger is confidence. It’s the kind of confidence that gives someone the cool headedness to respond evenly to a volatile situation. It also gives the same person a ruthlessness to deliberately take action in a situation where keeping the peace is, no longer, an option. Swagger has discernment. You never wonder how something will turn out, because you’ve already played through all the potential outcomes, and chosen your course of action. This does not only apply in a night club setting. I would venture to say that I have need of that kind of discernment, on a regular basis. It allows me to be decisive. My swagger comes with strategy. If we are called to be innocent as doves, and shrewd as serpents, then my swagger is my inner serpent. Of course, during the process of swagger, you have to be careful not to let your serpent devour your dove. Shrewdness without some innocence turns into darkness.
Two thumbs up!