Goodbye, Sheldon!

“At the end of the day people won't remember what you said or did, they will remember how you made them feel.”       ― Maya Angelou

I often skip the staff party at the end of an event. I'm shy, socially awkward, whatever you want to call it. After a weekend of talking to players, solving their problems, calming them down, and making their event special, my brain hurts. My coworkers are genuinely awesome people. Most of them are fascinating, intelligent, and a lot of fun. However, following 3 days of working 12+ hours in addition to networking, learning, and teaching, choosing to voluntarily spend several more hours being 'on' isn't usually ideal. I generally prefer a quieter meal with the opportunity for deeper conversations as well as reflecting on the weekend's events. 

However, on this particular weekend, we'd journeyed to a frozen, snowy northern city. The bitterly cold temperatures outside reminded my tired feet that we had no desire to trudge around hoping to locate on open restaurant late on Sunday night. The weekend's overall tone had been positive and the work hadn't been too taxing, and I had a few spoons left, so I opted to sample the free dinner at the staff party rather than set out in the cold in search of an elusive, and likely expensive, meal. When I entered the staff hotel the pleasant aroma of Italian food greeted me across an almost deserted lobby. An abundance of tables appeared available and I let myself relax a little upon noting that the party wouldn't be too loud or crowded. I selected a few items, loaded them onto a plate, and seated myself alone at a table not too distant to seem companionable, but far enough to be out of the walkway. 

Only a few minutes passed before several coworkers joined me and we conversed amiably while enjoying our meals. As usually happens at these types of social events, the cast of characters at the table changed fluidly with people coming and going to get more food, mingle, or join games of draft or Commander. I know I wandered back to the food table a few times and spent time at several different tables chatting, munching, and laughing.

A few hours later I found myself seated alone with a man with whom I shared an excellent working relationship, but we had not conversed much outside of our professional interactions. His reputation preceded him as many of my mentors looked up to him and frequently passed along lessons he had taught them. I knew from our work together that his knowledge was impressive, but that knowledge was far from his most important quality. He cared deeply about our events, and the people running them, and that passion displayed itself every time he stepped on the floor. He could often be found engaging players and staff, answering questions, and making time for each person that had an ask of him. Despite his position as a 'senior' staff member, he always had time for even the smallest need.

On this particular evening, he engaged me in conversation by asking about my region and my specific experiences within certain contexts. Over the course of the next hour, he queried me concerning my interactions as a female judge both with players, and more importantly with other staff. (While if you know me, you know how much I loathe that topic, he did it in such an open and caring way, that I felt comfortable sharing some pretty intimate thoughts!) He expressed genuine concern about certain things, celebrated when I told of small victories, and followed up with more questions. He likely had no idea how much that conversation meant to me, as it let me share a part of myself I often keep hidden, and rarely discuss with anyone in leadership. 

Thinking back on that night later, the thing that resonated so deeply with me was not what this man did, but rather what he didn't do. As a pillar of the community and someone full of wisdom, anecdotes, and experience, he said very little, yet he yearned to learn more. Rather than filling the space with his own voice, he did the simplest, yet most impactful thing possible - he listened. 

I left that table feeling a deep sense of encouragement and validation - like the work I had been doing that often felt unseen or unvalued wasn't worthless after all. More importantly, I felt like I had a story to tell that mattered and that could effect real change in our industry. Despite the long weekend, the late hour, and the heavy topic, I walked away feeling just a little bit lighter and more hopeful. 

Over the following months I became more open about my own story and more willing to discuss the challenges I've faced. I feel more confident and have embraced my past as a part of the person I have become. I've stopped fighting and leaned into who I am. And all of that started with one conversation with one man who despite all of his influence and experience took the time to not just listen, but truly hear me. I don't remember most of the words we said than night, but the way Sheldon Menery made me feel with be with me for the rest of my life. 

I'd like to end this bit of reflection with Sheldon's own words:

It doesn't matter how much life I have left, I will live it to its fullest.

― Sheldon Menery, facebook, April 8, 2002

An Empty Chair

Seated across from an empty chair, looking at a still full glass of iced tea and waiting for a blue cheese potato chip appetizer that would never arrive. In that moment it hit me, he was really gone.

We were supposed to have lunch today, Wednesday, February 20, 2019. His life ended on the 15th. Cut short by a heart attack and leaving behind a family, friends, and a community filled with grief.

I got the news in a hotel room in Memphis, while working a Magic Fest. Looking back almost 3 years to my first Grand Prix I remember running into him in the lobby of the convention center. We sat and talked a few minutes and he told me he was excited to see more women joining our community. At the time I didn’t understand some of the more toxic elements of our culture and I had no idea why he would say such a thing to me. What I did know is that I hadn’t even put on my brand new judge shirt for the first time yet, and this man was excited to welcome me. On a day where my nerves trembled as I struggled to keep up with the mountains of new things I was learning, he provided a sense of calm acceptance and a ready smile.

That was the first of a long list of event encounters where we shared a smile, a chat, or a meal. One night we went to Joe T. Garcia’s, a Mexican restaurant I had frequented in college. “Get the nachos,” he implored. At a place known for enchiladas and fajitas, I didn’t even know they had nachos. He wasn’t wrong - and I’ve ordered nachos every single time since that night.

He wrote me a review one time, for a stressful 65 player PPTQ where he was a player. He loved to write. He loved to make others better. And he was willing to invest his time in writing to make me better. Opening that review was a lovely surprise after a rough day. And now that review sits in my history as a lovely reminder of a lost friendship and the lasting impact he made on my career as a judge.

Two weeks ago he was on my deckchecks team for the Star City Open in Dallas. We enjoyed a fun day together checking decks, sorting lists, and sharing laughs. He was always a whiz at deckchecks, faster than me by far. I never understood how he could be so jovial while doing a task that tested my concentration and my patience. He seemed to know when a deck was problematic and had a knack for figuring out issues that arose. I’m so honored that I got to share the day with him on his last event working as a judge.

He often bought extra boxes of product that I brought home from events. We’d meet here, at Pluckers, to enjoy wings and make the exchange. While it started out as a way to meet up for a sale, it evolved into more of a fun meal to talk about the judge program, upcoming events, conferences, and more. Our topics often included our families, writing and editing, hopes and dreams for the future, sports, and anything else we could think of. We were never at a loss for words and the meals always ended too soon.

So here I am today, sitting alone at this table with a painful ache in my heart. His warm encouragement will be missing at future events and I’ll never get to read his latest writing project. I’ll have one less confidant to bounce conference ideas off of and I can’t ask if he’s attending. I’m sitting at one of our favorite tables, eating the wings we both adored. And while I know he’d be happy to hear that they are still delicious, they will never be the same without his company.

Jeff Zandi, you may not be here in person, but your spirit is with me today at this table. I hope to pass on your traditions of hospitality and encouragement and continue to build the community that you loved so much. Your influence is woven into the fabric of who I am as a judge and you will be with me every time I wear that mantle. I miss you, but I know that you will live on both in me and in the Magic community.

Rhythm

All the buildup, the planning, the flights and hotels, they culminate in a moment whose sights, sounds and smells all feel so familiar, yet never the same. Each event has a rhythm, a feel and a tune, that undulates slowly as you walk in the room. The doors open slowly, the event hall is filled with booths, vendors, and tables in various states of setup and build. One by one people enter and join in the flow, each a part of river down which all will go.

The truck door slides up and the forklifts roll past as one by one items are carted from the first to the last. Each team with its tasks to sort, stack, and display, all getting ready for tomorrow’s opening day. The work is demanding, but community is built as piece by piece comes together to prepare. By the end of the night bodies are tired and worn, but the room is in order and ready to go. The morrow will bring crowds that will flock in and open the show.

The morning’s quiet anticipation lingers over rows upon rows of perfectly set chairs and tables adorned with crisp tablecloths and neatly placed table numbers. No dice on the floor, no smells in the air, no movement at all. The air handlers humming softly in preparation for the rush that is to come. Standing on the stage and looking out over the place, quietly envisioning the crowds and the chaos that will soon fill the space.

Slowly few by few the staff trickles in, most are excited and eager to begin. Some sore from setup, some tired from flights, some feeling the effect of the previous night. Greetings are exchanged, many hugs, many laughs. Shirts are changed and pockets are stuffed with notebooks and pens. The players arrive and tournaments begin.

In clumps and teams judges take to the floor guiding the players and flipping the rounds. Throughout the day laughter abounds as they interact with one another as friends asking and answering helping and herding. The events rise and fall like waves in the sea, one following another overlapping a bit. Each one changes the landscape subtly as it comes and it goes and when it’s gone it leaves no traces, only memories.

As evening draws to a close the events wrap up. The staff rolls out in small groups seeking dinner and rest. The tables show clutter, their cloths sit askew. Tired chairs are pushed in, but not quite as neat and you can see on the floor where food had met feet. The printers fall silent, the scorekeepers wrap up, and alone on the stage once more you see silence.

The next mornings the same tune plays again as slower and slower the judges roll in. Anticipation is waning by the very end, but show up they do and begin all again. Each day like the last with clipboards and slips, the events one by one called from the announcer’s lips.

The final evening brings one of the best parts: dismantling the show and reloading the carts. Hand trucks and dollies, forklifts and flight cases each of the items in their assigned spaces. Dropping the banners, trashing one time use signage, tablecloth folding, and pallet wrapping - each task assigned and completed with ease. Everyone tired and ready to leave. One last thing the closing the truck, no sound is as nice as that door banging shut. Locking the lock and driving away, so sad yet satisfying, at the end of a day.

5W’s of the Western Washington Winter Judge Conference

Who?
Well, first off me! Of course. Along with about 45 other judges. A good mix of levels was represented including a few uncertified folks, many L1s and L2s and at least 5 L3s. Compared to many other conferences I’ve attended where that top tier is scarce, it felt nice to have the voice of experience available and their comments on many presentations offered a rich layer of insights. While there was no formal check in, organizers Stephan Classen and Richard Neal welcomed folks as they arrived.

What?
Well, a judge conference of course. This one featured one track of presentations which varied in length from 30 to 60 minutes. The times really worked well allowing each presenter to cover their topic without artificially stretching or shrinking it. The shorter presentations felt like a little bite-sized chunk of information and that’s something that I want to try incorporating into future conferences. Joe Klopchic opened the presentations with a rundown of layers followed by three interesting scenarios. (I’m excited to use this aterial with my aspiring L2s group.) Derek Barbee and Jeremy Button followed with talks on Making Mistakes and TO Interactions Respectively. These two quick-hit topics added value especially for newer judges. After the lunch break Ken Nichols talked about Take-Backs before I gave my Diversity presentation. Michael Arrowsmith wrapped up with Customer Service then we had a few minutes to get to know new folks in discussion groups. A provided URL offered an opportunity to submit real-time feedback as well.

When?
Saturday, January 14 from 11am to 5pm. The day included six presentations, a catered lunch, and a group discussion. The varied schedule allowed for some social time as well as the formal presentations and testing took place during some sessions. A conference felt like a good way to start 2019 with clear goals and some fresh ideas.

Where?
Mox Boardinghouse in Bellevue, Washington. The tournament room featured black lacquered tables and chairs set in a classic dark paneled room with rich curtains adorning the walls. While the room is set up for streaming Magic, that feature was not utilized for the conference. The on-site restaurant provided lunch which consisted of sliders, macaroni, soup, salad, and a selection of beverages. Ample space outside the room allowed for testing and mentorship meetings to take place during some of the sessions.

Why?
Why would I choose to fly halfway across the country to attend a conference? Well, Seattle is home to various members of my family as well as many judge mentors and friends. Its welcoming community and an opportunity to share a fun presentation enticed me to make the trip. I’m sure glad I did - I learned a lot, met with a mentor, and strengthened relationships while meeting new folks, enjoying Mox’s hospitality, and enjoying the judge community.

A Day in the Life of a Conference Organizer

12:07am Presenter Wrangler shows me a text saying that one of our presenters has to cancel for personal reasons. Panic! Relax! Laugh! Step onto patio and talk to other presenter who was going to present on customer service. Ask him if he would be willing to do his investigations presentation in addition to his customer service one. He agrees.

12:20 Return to Settlers of Catan game with fresh cup of hot chocolate. Tell Presenter Wrangler he can stop panicking. Other players look at us quizzically. We explain that we had to replace a presenter.

12:34 Hand off my seat in Settlers marathon to a newly arrived judge and set about cleaning up the mess in my kitchen. Lobster, bison steaks, elote, grilled squash and zucchini, and rice pilaf with wild mushrooms left quite a mess. Gotta love judge cooking!

12:42 Another presenter joins me in the kitchen to go over his presentation. Try to pay attention while loading dishwasher. Make mental notes to require presenters to submit final versions of presentations a month before the conference. Laugh at my own mental note and know that no matter how early they submit them, there will always be last minute changes.

1:08 Soft knock at front door. Open it to receive a huge hug from a soggy presenter arriving late in the rain. So excited to see him. So exhausted from finishing the nametags and signage, cooking dinner, and putting my kids to bed.

1:26 Finally headed to bed! Seven other conference attendees/presenters, 3 kids, 3 cats, and 1 husband/presenter all in bed. Bags, boxes, crates packed and ready to go.

6:48 Noises from upstairs. Darn kids! Tiptoe into kitchen to start coffee. Go upstairs to tell kids to get dressed quietly and not wake judges.

7:00 Alarm Goes Off. Run to bedroom to silence it. See husband sleeping peacefully.

7:04 Quick shower while mentally inventorying everything I packed last night: judge bag, laptop, blue tape, signage, nametags, whiteboard and markers, printer, scotch tape, shoes that a judge left at my house months ago, venue and catering contracts, gum, door prizes, acrylic stands, my shirt,  . . .

7:25 Throw on pants, shoes, undershirt. Run to kitchen to make husband's coffee drink. Start more coffee. Look out window and note gloomy rain continues.

7:31 Put on makeup, earrings. Style hair. Put on regional polo.

7:35 Point out fruit and yogurt to hungry judges.

7:38 Argue with children that they must wear clothing. Try to convince 3 year old that 3 shirts does not equal a complete outfit.

7:42 Help children with breakfast. Administer antibiotics to 3 year old for ear infection. Give pill to 5 year old with bladder condition. Remind children that eating cereal requires a bowl. Children ask why they cannot just eat it off the table.

8:03 Load car with help from judges. Grumble about gloomy rain and wet stuff. Conference staff and some presenters head to venue. (The rest will follow later.)

8:07 Set off! Enjoy the few moments alone in my car to organize my thoughts and prepare for the day. Try not to hydroplane on wet roads. Make mental note that no time of year is 'safe' to host an event in Texas that does not have potential for heatstroke deaths, blizzards, or flash floods.

8:27 Arrive at venue. Wonder why 2 police cars are parked at the entrance. Encounter a conference staff member arriving and unloading his stuff.

8:29 Park car under covered loading area between 2 police cars. Ask a presenter I walking past to help me unload my car. Grab a luggage cart and start piling stuff on it. Send friend to drive it into conference area.

8:35 Greet Hotel Manager. He tells me that Catering Manager is going to be late if she arrives at all due to weather. Secretly hope we have food for lunch.

8:40 Walk into conference area with Hotel Manager to see that prefunction space looks great. While the registration table is not the horseshoe I requested, it will work. The coffee, tea, and water station is set, stocked, and ready. Request an additional table to use for several other needs since the registration area is small. Hotel Manager agrees.

8:43 Step into the ballroom to see that only 2/3 of the room is set. The hotel has pulled an airwall and set only part of the space that we agreed to in the contract. Panic! Ask Hotel Manager. He says that our number is small enough to all fit in the smaller space. I agree that it is, but that we had planned 3 tracks of content and planned to use all 3 sections for our afternoon breakout sessions. Secretly grumble that just because you can shove more people in a small space, it doesn't mean that you should! Look into the 3rd section and see that is is set classroom style and will still work for the afternoon. Tell Hotel Manager that it will be perfect just like it is and do not ask if we can use it, but simply tell him that we will. Remind him of the slight change to the time we will need the airwall pulled in the first rooms and ask for some table skirting for the prefunction table before we part ways.

8:52 Verify that my staff is mostly present and seem to be doing setup things.

8:53 Flip my laptop open to send updated attendee list to staff member doing check in. Grumble that I forgot to get the internet password from the hotel.

8:57 Get a call from a staff member who is at Starbucks and wants to bring me hot chocolate. Remember that I have the best conference staff ever.

9:01 Get a text from an attendee apologizing for not being able to attend.

9:05 See that my staff members have opened the registration table. Right on time. I love these guys!

9:12 Field a request from the Streaming Manager that he needs help with getting the internet set up. Set off to find Hotel Manager and ask him to help.

9:26 Move my stuff to the newly set up table in the prefunction area that will act as my 'show office' as well as a distribution point for regional judge polos in the morning, and a pick up station for Rules Lawyer promos during the lunch break.

9:31 Pull out signage and begin setting it up: drop-ins for the breakout rooms, notes in acrylic stands labeling the pickup table and registrations, and of course the "In Bolas's Clutches" signs for the restroom doors. Our RC suggested the idea and it was too funny not to do it.

9:57 I've greeted about a million people, trying to make a personal connection with each one showing appreciation that they chose to attend, answering questions, directing traffic. We realize that we have fielded a large number of rain related delays due to flash flooding and decide to delay the conference 10 minutes to allow as many people as possible to arrive before we begin. While I generally prefer to respect people's time and start on time, the severity of the weather and the tighter than planned room would lead to a large number of people trying to enter late and would cause a lot of disruption.

9:59 Streaming Manager hands me a microphone pack. Struggle to attach the belt clip and finally manage to arrange the microphone on my lapel in such a way that it doesn’t cause the front of my shirt to look lopsided.

10:02 Check the room. It's filling up. Wish for the extra space, but decide that the smaller space allows better viewing for powerpoints at the front of the room.

10:05 Confirm that everything is ready. Confirm that RC is ready for keynote.

10:10 Get the thumbs up from Streaming Manager, flip on my microphone, and greet the attendees. Open by thanking everyone for attending, especially with traveling in the rain. Mention that we have decided to do announcements and door prizes after the first speaker and conclude by handing it off to our RC for his keynote.

10:12 Drink water. Check in at registration. Check in with Presenter Wrangler.

10:15 Verify with the judge who coordinated the shirt order that things are ready for his shirt distribution plan.

10:22 Meet with Hotel Manager and finally arrived Catering Manager to sign final contracts and payments. Remind them about lunch and 2 special food needs (GF and vegan).

10:34 Realize that breakfast and a hot chocolate are waiting for me in my 'office.' Have no idea what wonderful humans did this, but appreciate them a ton. Mental note: best staff ever!

10:41 Resume greeter duties connecting with judges and helping them get seated with as little disruption as possible. Even catch a few snippets of the keynote.

11:00 Realize that Keynote is going to go long. Mentally try to calculate how long based on my proofreading of the slides and how much I know is left. Groan.

11:10 No sign of stopping despite my cueing.

11:15 Less subtle nudge.

11:21 Finally done.

11:22 Take the microphone, thank RC, ask conference staff to come forward for door prize distribution.

11:24 Staffer draws names out of a Whataburger bag and we hand out a variety of playmats, t-shirts, judge swag, and regional swag.

11:35 Ask the entire conference staff to step forward and I ask a local judge/artist to come up as well. They present the staff with the amazing custom playmats I had them design as a staff gift.

11:40 Introduce the speaker for our general session and hand it over to him.

11:42 Drink more hot chocolate.

11:57 Sit down with TO for regionals to go over plans for that event.

12:20 Escape never ending conversation to check on lunch. Relief there is food. Panic at how little food there is.

12:25 Find out that Catering Manager has left. Grumble.

12:27 Find the single hotel employee in charge of setting up our food. He does not speak English. Switch to Spanish and learn that he has only set out about ⅓ of the food and will be replenishing it as people eat. Suggest he set out more. Secretly think about how much judges eat. Worry about food. He has no idea what I am talking about when I mention the meals for folks with dietary needs. Convince him to make me some salads.

12:30 Duck into the ballroom just as the presentation is moving to the last part. Good!

12:37 Get 1 salad. Hand deliver it to vegan so he will have lunch.

12:45 Presentation wraps up. Make announcements about lunch including the group photo afterwards. Attendees beeline for the food table. Fear for the life of that 1 poor guy trying to replenish the food.

12:47 Watch attendees load plates with gigantic sandwiches, potato salad, chips, pickles, and cookies. Remember that I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.

12:52 Socialize with attendees welcoming those who I missed earlier. Answer questions about the event, the region, the weather,  . . .

1:20 See that there is not enough food. I knew it wasn’t going to be enough when I saw it earlier!

1:37 Locate Hotel Manager and demand more food. He grudgingly complies and the one server delivers additional sandwich makings.

1:33 Ask the photographer where we should do group photo. Agree on outside since rain has started to clear.

1:45 Make announcement about group photo outside. Since attendees were eating at the banquet tables from the morning sessions, this outdoor break lets us reset the room into 2 smaller rooms for our afternoon breakouts.

1:47 Hotel staff pulls airwall right on time. Relief!

1:55 Run outside to jump into group picture with other staff members.

1:56 Shoo everyone back inside for afternoon breakout sessions.

2:00 Sigh with relief as breakouts start on time. Contemplate sitting down for a minute. Decide to check on lunch leftovers. Grumble. No cookies left.

2:37 See a judge unconscious in a chair in the lobby. Panic! Verify that he is asleep, not dead. Remember that he drove a carload of folks who came in from far away. Decide that he needs the sleep.

2:50 Check all 3 breakouts to ensure end times. Am pleasantly surprised.

2:54 Am asked by a judge if we can talk. Agree to chat with him during next session.

3:01 Next breakouts started on time.

3:04 Sit down with judge who wants to talk. Discuss his concern and strategies to work on his issue. Come up with a concrete plan for him moving forward. Agree on follow-up steps.

3:32 Slip into a room to listen to part of a presentation. Feel the tension in the room and know that things are not going well. Stay a listen a bit. See that the presenter has lost control of his audience. Note that some judges in the audience seem perplexed, annoyed, or lost. Mental note: Look over this presenter’s evaluations and work with him before he presents again.

3:39 Prepare for afternoon break as presentations end. Verify that RC is set to hand out Rules Lawyers during break. Remind hotel staff to refresh beverage station.

4:02 Accept feedback on conference from eager attendee.

4:07 More greeter duties. Talk to lots of judges about lots of stuff.

4:15 Relief when break ends and judges all go to next breakout session.

Insert cheesy montage of judges, breakouts, and paperwork.

5:47 Check with conference staff. Presenter Wrangler and staffer have set up check-out table to distribute folis. Remember my staff is the best.

6:05 Pop in to each breakout room to make quick announcement about checking out and receiving foils. Manage to catch each one as it ends.

6:14 Thank attendees as they leave. Follow up on earlier questions and make plans for future events.

6:32 Relieved that most have left. Staff breaking down rooms.

6:34 Pack up signage.

6:37 Start loading car with printer, whiteboard, nametag holders to reuse, etc.

6:48 Verify that rooms are spotless and staff is done.

6:50 Finalize staff dinner location and send Presenter Wrangler to get a table.

6:54 Locate Hotel Manager to say goodbye. He tells me surreptitiously that some of my judges spent the afternoon drinking at the bar. Sigh. Hope it was during lunch break. Hope they weren’t driving home.

7:12 Hop into my car. Wonderful silence. Head to staff dinner.

7:28 Arrive at restaurant to find three times expected number of humans. Turns out some of my staff were traveling in full cars. Sigh at yet another loud, crowded space.

7:30 Relax and enjoy the company, the food, and the satisfaction of a conference well done.

Commitment-phobic

I’m disappointed, but not surprised. I’m sad, hurt, a little angry, but not surprised. Not really. I should have known it was coming.

When six months ago he conspiratorially suggested to me, “Maybe you’ll head judge the next one for me” I believed him. So getting the phone call from the out of region head judge asking if he could crash at my house came as a bit of a shock to me. The head judge he selected is better than me. He’ll do an awesome job. He’s my friend. I’m happy that he’ll be in town. The head judge even said that it felt weird to ‘apply against a friend.’ Wow. I’m honored that he calls me friend. We spent some time chatting about the event and I’m still excited to work it as a floor judge. Disappointed, yes. Surprised, . . . not really.

When I applied to the out of region event, ate the massive travel costs associated with mis-booking my flights, drove through the night, and showed up to work on time despite the difficulties, telling myself, ‘I am a professional.’ I arrived only to be asked to work an extended shift. I worked my buns off that weekend and loved every minute of it. While speaking to the judge manager he commented on his surprise that I applied. I replied, “You asked me to.” He didn’t remember. Disappointed, yes. Surprised, . . . not really.

When he told me last year that next year he hopes to ‘give the whole thing to [me],’ I got excited. The plans percolating in my mind quickly cooled when someone else ran the show and the staff didn’t include me. I went as a player, and had a great time. Disappointed, yes. Surprised, . . . not really.

When I asked him two years ago to write me an L3 Rec, he told me that those take time and a lot of work, but that he would put me on his list. I eagerly agreed. I’ve worked his events, talked with him about everything, trusted his advice, and taken risks believing him to be in my corner. He’s implied numerous times that the end goal is my L3. So when I told him this month that I was planning to formally request the Rec around the end of the year, it stung when he said he would prefer not to write it. His reasons made sense and I believe his choice to be legitimately in my best interests. Disappointed, yes. Surprised, . . . not really.

When he told me he planned to pass RC to me, I felt a surge of adrenaline I can’t explain. An odd feeling of legitimacy, like someone saying that the work I’m doing has value and truly matters. I never aspired to be an RC, but it does seem to be a good fit. From people I barely know to mentors with whom I work closely I get asked about it. I have always answered that I believe our current RC is doing a fine job and that I trust him completely. So only a month after that revelation when he stated that he’s decided to consider another path of succession for RC, it felt like a dagger to my soul. Disappointed, yes. Surprised, . . . not really.

Despite each disappointment, I’ve kept working hard, kept pushing, kept grinding, and ignored the hurt, the loss, and the sadness. Tuned out the doubters, the gatekeepers, and the ones who would use me for their own gain. Instead I kept believing that I could work harder, do more, and be better. Kept believing in the next opportunity. Maybe naive, but I still believe.

You see, at this point in my judge career I know how it goes:

Something inside you breaks.

It's just not worth it anymore. No matter what you do, you just can't get a foothold in this community. Most of your successes are met with scrutiny and doubt. You've been judging Magic for two years and still regularly get asked if you are a new judge. You complete your tasks just fine on your own but the men at the event insist on giving you unsolicited tips – assuming that you need them. An uncomfortable amount of other judges still react awkwardly to working with you. When you started working sanctioned events, you rationalized it all away by saying, “It's just because I'm new.” But you're not new anymore. And the same shit keeps happening no matter how much you try to blend in and be accepted as a real judge.

You still love judging Magic. But after all this time, the small interactions have taken their toll and you finally conclude, “Maybe judging Magic tournaments isn't for me.”

I’m not there yet, but I know that someday I will be.

Impact

As she walked up to me I vaguely recognized her, but couldn't place her exactly. She said, "I just want to thank you for helping me find a team at that GP." Ahh, my memory jogged, she was the player whose teammates had missed their flight and she almost didn't get to play in a team GP. There had been another player who was there without a team as well, we'll call him Rick (not his real name). Rick had asked me all day about finding a team, but as the registration lead there was really not much I could do. When she showed up that afternoon, I had introduced the two of them. They had been able to find a third and compete in the event. Later that weekend she had dropped by registration to thank me and tell me that they had almost made day 2. I felt a sense of satisfaction at being able to unite two players and turn their disappointment into a fun weekend.

Now, almost a year later, halfway across the country this woman had sought me out again. She continued, "That weekend really changed my life. I appreciate your help." As a Magic judge I'm always excited to help players out and make sure they have great experiences, but this praise seemed over the top. Then Rick walked up and thanked me as well. As they walked away hand in hand, she smiled over her shoulder and said, "We've been dating for six months."