Business should be simple. And fun.

Hey Reader

My mom always tells me, “Give me the right to say no if I can’t do something. Don’t answer for me.”

And every time she says it, I swear she’s looking directly into the soul of my over-functioning, I-can-handle-it-all, doing-great-sweetie self.

Because here’s how I operate:

I don’t ask for help until I’m slowly dying, at a breaking point, and trying every breathing technique I know so I don’t snap at my kids over something ridiculous like a missing water bottle.

And then my mom will check in — as moms do — and I’ll try to sound calm and grateful and not whiney as I explain that it’s been a rough week or we have some insane schedule coming up.

She listens. Then she asks, very directly, “Would it be helpful if I came up on those dates to be with the kids?”

And my response, almost every single time (because I love to learn lessons the hard way and repeat them a gazillion times) is:

“Yeah… I was going to ask but I felt bad.”

And then she hits me with the line.

“Samantha. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you. Don’t answer for me. Give me the right to say no if I can’t do something. Don’t answer for me.”

And I realized how ridiculously hard and stomach-twistingly weird it is to ask for — and receive — help.

So I started testing it.

With a teacher at my son’s school when I was volunteering and was given two options on where to be.
I asked, “Which would be most helpful to you and your day?”

With friends I know are going through big stuff.
“I have some free time later this week. How can I take something off your plate?”

With clients.
“If this thing happened, would it actually make things easier for you?”

Almost every time, I’m met with a moment of shock. A little silence. A visible pause.

Then eventually something like:

“Oh… actually… could you help with this?”
or
“Whew. Yes. That would be amazing.”

We’ve become so self-sufficient — or so afraid of imposing on someone’s day — that any ask for help feels like we’re requesting someone to bend over backwards, empty their savings, and jump in front of a bullet for us.

When in reality, we’re robbing them of the satisfaction that comes from helping someone out.
You know that little glittery-tingly feeling when you get to make someone’s day easier?
Yeah. That one.

And PSSST. Guess what.

We have an entire team of US-based virtual assistants who, when asked in interviews:

“What do you like about being an assistant? Why haven’t you moved up to something else?”

The answer is almost always some version of:

“I genuinely like helping someone do something cool. It feels good to be part of the support system.”

So I ask you — with arms stretched out, exasperated, sparkle in my eye:

Why rob them of that moment?

Why keep these eager, wildly capable assistants away when they just want to be part of helping you hit those big, ambitious, holy-crap-I’m-really-doing-this goals?

When you stop answering for other people — including your future assistant — everything gets lighter.