Hell-bent on getting that Hawaiian Punch, we devised a plan.

The kitchen was right off the laundry room, which gave us a window of opportunity to carry out our punch heist. We took a laundry basket, filled it with enough clothes to conceal a jug of fruit punch and two glasses, carried it down the stairs, and looked at our grandmother with wide, innocent eyes—we were being dutiful children and getting a head start on laundry for our mom…duh. Logic would suggest that five and seven-year-olds don’t do laundry, but thankfully, logic wasn’t invited to the party that day. We made pretend footsteps to the laundry room, hoisted each other up to get two glasses from the top cabinets, and secured the Hawaiian Punch.

I’ll let you guess what happened when my mom got home and found us in our bedroom with big red stains around our mouths and a half-empty jug of fruit punch, but that’s besides the point. I share this story because it’s the first memory I have of learning that sometimes you have to be scrappy to get the job done.

When I was 14, I got my first job as a cashier at Chick-fil-A. I grew up in the South, so hearing the words “My pleasure" wasn’t necessarily a rarity, but actually saying them myself felt like something else entirely—especially when it was being said to a woman shuffling up to the register in the midst of dinner rush holding a single chicken nugget wrapped in a napkin claiming that it was “too small to be considered a nugget” and demanding that we give her one. single. replacement. nugget. For the record, I offered her a new 6-count nugget on the house, which she refused. She literally just wanted one nugget. The moral of the story here is twofold: nuggets are in the eye of the beholder, and the customer is always right (*unless they aren’t).

Eventually, when I had learned about the concept of earning tips, I moved on to a job waitressing at Steak ‘n Shake. I was 16 years old at the time, and had no prior experience waitressing—but with an hourly pay of $2.30 and money on my mind, I was determined to leave with the biggest tip payout of each shift. On a typical day, I buzzed around the restaurant in my bowtie and apron, taking orders and forgetting the odd table or two (waitressing is no joke, IYKYK). But I remember one day in particular, a party of 8 walked into the dining room, and the hostess ushered them to a table in my section. I trotted over, flashed a smile, and started rattling off facts about new items on the menu—and it wasn’t till I looked up from my little notepad that I noticed that they didn’t hear a word I said. One of the individuals at the table kindly shared with me that they were all deaf. I’ll never forget their incredible patience and kindness as I collected their orders and served their table that night—an excellent lesson in communication and humanity in my early teenage years.

Though on the surface these anecdotes might seem random, they’re more relevant than ever—for me, at least. In the same way that they say, “You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone,” the truth is: sometimes you don’t know what you’ve got till you’re faced with a scenario that requires that very thing. A “stealth” skill, if you will. The skills that you’re pocketing along the way without even realizing it.

When I think back to some of these eras in my life, particularly my teenage years working in restaurants, I remember how I felt in those moments. To be honest, I felt far from where I wanted to be. I was a teenager in a very small town who knew she wanted to live in a big, shiny city and work in fashion—and my perceived* lack of opportunity made me feel as though that dream would never convert to reality. (*I say “perceived”, because the opportunity is almost always there, you just have to find it—or, create it).

But in hindsight? These experiences played an enormous role in shaping who I would become when I was ready to show up at Opportunity’s door, saying, “Let me in, please. I brought dessert!” I use these skills every single day, and I have gratitude for every bumble, hiccup, and red Hawaiian Punch stain that sharpened the skills in my arsenal, without even realizing it.

Maybe you relate to these experiences, or maybe you’re like Amy, and you’ve become a master storyteller as a byproduct of deceptively tossing the newspapers from your paper route into the woods to smoke cigarettes at age 11 (true story, and a legendary one—you can read more about this in her new book, “Almost Reckless”).

I’m not quite established enough in my life and career to be able to have big “I wish I knew ______ when I was young.” But I will say this: if I did have the opportunity to sit down across from my teenage self at a Steak ‘n Shake, I would tell her not to write off the experiences that feel like passive sidequests, and to try to pluck out these learning moments in real time. And if it were me in the present time, I’d make sure to emphasize the importance of putting down the phone, leaning in, and being present. Because more often than not, when you embrace the detours, you’ll find yourself learning things that you never would have otherwise—and you’ll be better off for it.

If this resonates with you at all, I’m excited to share our new podcast, The Grey Area, hosted by me, Gabe, and Matt from the creative team here at Tibi. All Gen-Z, figuring things out. Whether you’re Gen-Z, you know someone who is Gen-Z, or you’re just plain curious—we have really good conversations guided by concepts and principles outlined in Amy’s new book that prompt us to think beyond the black and white and embrace ambiguity. There’s really valuable information in there about seeing all these moments in life, as arduous or mundane as they may seem at the time, as dots that we’re collecting that eventually come together to create our big picture. We certainly don’t have all the answers, and we won’t always agree, but we do know that when we open the floor to good, honest discourse, good things happen.

I encourage you to read the book Almost Reckless and join along in our podcasts. I’d also like to hear what jobs populate your resume, but the skill set acquired goes way beyond the tasks listed, like “put hamburger in bag and smile.”

After a moment of watching her assemble a bite, I asked, “Did you grow up in an “Ingredient Household”?”

Amy replied in shock, “How did you know?!”

Truth is, I clocked it immediately because I, too, grew up in an Ingredient Household—both her lunch and her method of assembly looked all too familiar to me. Some of you might know exactly what I’m talking about, but if you don’t, allow me to explain. An Ingredient Household is basically what it sounds like—a home where meals or snacks only exist if you get creative and combine ingredients together. No ready-made, heat-and-eat foods in sight. Those of you reading this who know exactly what I’m talking about likely also know how exotically thrilling it was to go to your friend’s house and indulge in Totino’s Pizza Rolls—or better yet, Hot Pockets. The sheer convenience of being able to just pop some iteration of an inverted pizza into the microwave for 90 seconds was exhilarating, and everyone knows that food tastes better when it’s not your own. Just facts.

Now, I will say that there seems to be a negative connotation online surrounding ingredient households—but make no mistake, I was eating good. My dream after-school scenario was getting to skip ballet class, watch MTV in the living room (if I was lucky, an episode of Ridiculousness was on), and make my go-to snack:

Two pieces of white bread dressed with mayo and a dash of yellow mustard, Kraft American Cheese (this is very important), and thinly sliced red onion. With a side of croutons. And a handful of semi-sweet chocolate chips out of the freezer. Just trust me, you had to be there to get it.

Over the next few days, the topic of an Ingredient Household kept coming up in conversation—Amy and I would swap snack recipes (an alarming number involved red onion in some form…we can unpack this similarity at another time) and reminisce on girl dinner before Girl Dinner was a trendy internet thing. The further we trailed down this rabbit hole, the more it became clear there might be a direct connection between Ingredient vs. Hot Pockets households, and the relationships that we have with our wardrobes.

Humor my logic here for a minute. When you’re ingredient-minded, your vision is primed to scavenge for parts that fit together to make a whole. You’re strategically stocking up on items that you know will serve more than one purpose: eggs, milk, flour, bread, croutons - Karo syrup in Amy’s case…the possibilities are endless here. You have all the base ingredients, making it so that when you find a jar of zesty pickles and salami slices that were tucked away in the fridge, you can create something interesting. It forces you to be more scrappy than you’d need to be if you had a boxed Stouffer’s lasagna ready to roll in the freezer. You become creative enough in your thinking that you can find a way to satisfy your cravings using what you have, maybe tossing in a little pizzazz here or there when it makes sense.

On the flip, if you get hungry and you know that you have a sleeve of Hot Pockets in your freezer, the thinking stops there. Open the sleeve, microwave, done and dusted. And as delicious as those greasy little atrocities are, you can’t swap out a few of the ingredients and be on your merry way if you’re suddenly craving a chicken pot pie. And, by the way, odds are you won’t want to eat a Hot Pocket for every meal (unless you were me in the 8th grade).

Now replace the word Hot Pockets with the word Outfits.

If you’re getting dressed, and you know that you have an Outfit (and by Outfit with a capital O, I mean a specific outfit that you shopped for, to be worn together) in your closet, the thinking stops there. Open the closet door, get dressed, done and dusted. And as great as you might look, you might find it difficult to swap out a few pieces if you’re suddenly craving to feel more modern instead of preppy. And, by the way, odds are you won’t want to wear that Outfit every day.

I think so many of us have been taught to shop for clothing the same way that we shop for groceries—and if you grew up accustomed to collecting ingredients, my hypothesis would suggest that you might likely shop for your clothing the same way. Suddenly eggs, bread, milk, and flour are a pair of jeans that you can wear anywhere, the perfect white t-shirt, a great bomber jacket, and a sleek shoe—separately, they’re just ingredients…but when combined with spices and condiments (i.e., a good earring, a lace slip skirt, a Ring 4 knit), you can really create an interesting moment.

I’m curious if we have any readers here that grew up in a Hot Pocket household and have found themselves shopping for Outfits rather than wardrobe ingredients. Or—maybe you were so traumatized by having to offer your friends a mixture of grapenuts, syrup and raisins that you’ve vowed that once you gained any type of independent income you’d never scrounge and create with ingredients again. At this point, you know I love some good discourse, so drop your thoughts in the comments. I’d love to test this theory out a bit.

To my surprise, the train was only half full—a rare occurrence for a weekday afternoon. We snagged seats along the wall and waited for the doors to close. I opened my mouth to begin r…

Read more

Read more

Read more

Read more

I write a lot of copy.

In fact, a sizeable chunk of my day-to-day life is spent writing copy. Long-form, short form, social media captions, you name it. To most people in my field, writing copy is likely viewed as a monotonous task—I’ll admit that some days, when the words just aren’t flowing, it can certainly feel that way. Outside of work, my social ch…

Read more

Read more

Read more

I began my career at Tibi as a Public Relations intern back in early 2021 (I shared my internship experience here—it’s a good read), and we all know that I thankfully ended up back at Tibi for the long haul, but it didn’t happen…

Read more

Read more

Read more

Read more

Read more

I’m a sucker for a good gift guide. Every holiday season, I dive into countless lists, hoping to find the perfect gift ideas. But here’s the catch—I’ve yet to come across a guide that truly speaks to the very specific groups of people that Creative Pragmatists find themselves shopping for. As CPs, we approach gifting much like we approach our personal s…

Read more

Read more

Read more

Read more

Read more

Read more