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My friend Donna sat on a bar stool in O'Harry's Pub with a margarita in her hand. "I can't believe Alexa hasn't announced who's going to the D.C. conference with her. It’s so obvious it should be me." She slurped her margarita so fast, that the salt crystals on the rim remained intact. One hand flew up to get the bartender's attention. "One more and cut me off!"

I experience Donna’s energy as supremely self-confident, even though she proclaims her ego is the size of a kumquat, layered in a thin, self-protective skin. I sat next to her, noshing on happy hour appetizers, amused by her antics. I do enjoy Donna’s sassy humor and her love of margaritas.

"Did you make your case for going?" I asked, curious as to what her reality was.

My friend sneered and popped some peanuts. "That woman knows me, and she knows that if I'm ever going to get promoted to Conference Director, I need to log more travel and conference time. I already have more experience than anybody else in the office. I'm the best choice and Alexa knows it."

That was my cue to play Devil’s Advocate. "Okay, so how do you know she knows? I mean, all things being equal among the staff, if other people aren't afraid to pursue the opportunity or if they prove they're up to the challenge, then I could see how Alexa might decide to give someone else a shot."

Donna’s face contorted as if I’d accused her of wearing pantyhose. "So what are you saying? I'm not a good choice?"

"Of course not. I'm saying, if you really want this, you might want to have a conversation with Alexa about why you're the best candidate. What do you have to lose?"

"My dignity? Besides I would feel like I was begging. I'll quit before I stoop to begging."

If I’d had a crystal ball, I’d have predicted the conversation would go this direction. Donna was a proud woman who felt like she’d scraped and struggled for every break she ever got. I could imagine this might feel like more of the same.

"Donna,” I said, “asking for what you want does not equate to begging or a black smudge on your dignity. You may not be in charge of the decision, but you're in charge of you. So it's up to you to make sure your boss understands your goals are and how you foresee accomplishing them. Besides, it's a great way to demonstrate your enthusiasm and drive, as well as a confidence in how your abilities can benefit your company. And what's the worst that can happen?"

Donna’s eyes bugged out. "She'll say no?"

I shrugged. "And?"

"And? And? Do you like being rejected?"

I laid my hand on her shoulder. "Dear friend, think about this. Saying no is not a rejection of you personally. No is just information. If you don't like hearing no, you have options. You can accept no and give up; or you can accept no but express your disappointment and try to persuade her another time; or, if you really think it's a deal breaker, you can find another job."

“Or I could go over her head.”

I nodded carefully. “You could, but how would that benefit you in the end? You’d lose an ally in Alexa and damage your reputation among the management team.”

Donna thought about that for a few moments, took a swig of her fresh margarita, and said, “Okay, you’re right. I’m doing it first thing tomorrow.”

In helping Donna plan her presentation, I took the opportunity to emphasize these three things:

1. Speak your truth. You are in charge of telling the world what you want in clear terms. Assuming that someone else—even someone you know well—understands the purpose and scope of what you want by some power of telepathic osmosis is unrealistic. Nobody else can represent you better than you can, because nobody else understands your objectives more.
   
   
2. If you don’t ask for what you want, you may not get it and someone else might take advantage of your missed opportunity;
   
   
3. No is just a word that embodies useful information. Don’t take it personally; take it as a generator for a new approach or a different direction.
   
   

“I like it!” Donna said. “I’m going home right now to practice my presentation.”

As she got off the bar stool, the heel of her pumps clipped the rung, and she tumbled to the floor.

“That’s it,” I said, laughing and extending a hand, “I’m cutting you off!”

Donna dusted herself off and muttered, “Talk about losing my dignity.”