Embrace Ambiguity: Not Because You Have To, But Because You Want To

Things I would tell my younger self—now that I'm a bit older.

Exactly four years ago, I resigned from my first job out of school—before even stepping into the office—to join Tibi full time.

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 overnight. And it wasn’t the role I anticipated. At the end of my internship, I found myself in Savannah, Georgia, with the team I now spend the majority of my days with, full of hope that a role with my name on it would miraculously open up within the company. I was very honestly told that things were still uncertain with the pandemic—Tibi wasn’t out of the woods quite yet, and they couldn’t guarantee anything. But if anything opened up, I’d be the first person they would call. So, slightly heartbroken and simultaneously full of hope, I moved back to my hometown and began applying for jobs.

Another company reached out to me on LinkedIn and invited me to interview for a Customer Relations & Sales Assistant position. I had virtually no experience in either area—aside from a college job at a small boutique—but I was thrilled just to have the opportunity. I enthusiastically accepted the interview and made plans to drive to the city that week. The interview went well, and on my drive home, I got the call: they were offering me the job.

That moment was one of my first real adult encounters with the idea that two things can be true at once. I was so beyond overjoyed to land a role with such a great company just a month after graduating. At the same time, I felt a sadness, like the door to Tibi—where I had dreamed of working—had just quietly shut. I had no idea that though the door was closed, the window was cracked open. A few weeks later, just before I was meant to start working in the office at my new company, my phone rang.

After pretty much blacking out for the entire conversation with Elaine, I e-signed an offer letter for my new job at Tibi: Assistant Project Manager. Did I know what that job would entail? Nope. Like, actually not even a clue. Aside from the fact that I had never really had a grown-up job and thus didn’t know much in general, this was a new role at Tibi that hadn’t existed prior to me. But there was no way in hell I wasn’t going to accept. Going from a role that was so incredibly straightforward to one that was completely ambiguous was scary, but my gut feeling far outweighed my fear.

From the moment I stepped into the office as a full-time Tibi employee, I was tasked with the most diverse projects—many of them often unrelated to one another. I’ll admit that in the beginning, my job was sometimes confusing. I would listen to my friends at other companies talk about their roles and the rote, routine tasks that they would perform on a daily and weekly basis. They knew what to expect, they knew what was expected of them—they were safe. They had certainty. When I explained my job to them, I was met with, “Wait…so what do you do?”

My answer was loaded. At the time, I worked on our PR team, assisted the wholesale team with order entry and sales reports, organized team travel, produced photoshoots, created line sheets, project managed store renovations, and whatever else landed on my desk. Don’t get me wrong, there were so many things about my job that were exciting. I loved that every day was something different, and it allowed me to work so closely with basically the entire office (which, by the way, is something everyone should do, especially when beginning your career—get to know the other departments). But after about two years, I began to feel a bit lost—like I wasn’t entirely sure which department I, myself, fit into.

This led me into a bit of a spiral. In a very naive, early twenties kind of way. But a spiral nonetheless—and it felt very real. I actually have no idea why I was trying so hard to pigeon-hole myself into one singular role. I think in my head at the time, I equated familiar or traditional job descriptions to surefire lanes for career advancement. And sometimes, that’s true. Sometimes it’s not.

I’m fortunate to have incredible mentorship here at Tibi, and I had so many conversations with our President, Elaine, about what exactly my job is—how would it look next year? In a few years? And our conversations always ended the same way: Elaine would, after very patiently hearing me out, tell me to embrace the ambiguity. And I would say “Okay” and try to figure out what that meant, and how to do it. Part of me wishes that I could go back and tell my (barely) younger self to just trust the process—but I had to learn to sit with that uncertainty. It took a long time for Uncertainty and I to learn to get along, but once we begun to understand each other, everything changed.

I’m approaching my fourth anniversary here at Tibi. And while in many ways there is a throughline to all of the roles I’ve held here, my job today is completely different from when I first started. And in fact, it’s the job I wanted all along that I never imagined would be possible. When I think about all of the bajillions of lessons that I’ve learned along the way, the biggest is the importance of, as Elaine would say, to “sit in wonderment”. To embrace the ambiguity. That just because the next step—the next level—is murky, or maybe even invisible to the naked eye, doesn’t mean that it’s not there. It just means that perhaps you haven’t zoomed out far enough to see the full landscape of your path.

When you’re put in a position with no clear delineation of growth, you have a choice: you can let the uncertainty swallow you, becoming bogged down by the frustration that often comes with the vague nature of these roles—or you can do what you can to captain what that role will become. And thank goodness that I wasn’t successful in squeezing myself into a title I thought I wanted. If by some sad miracle I had been, I likely would have never learned how to publish a book. Or bring a color wheel to life. Or know all that goes into producing a photoshoot, from start to finish. Or the nuances that come with rolling out a new campaign successfully on social media channels. Or write for this Substack.

Anyway, I guess what I’m really trying to say is that keeping—fostering—an open mind is such a valuable skill. And if you’re like me and you wrestle with not having all the answers, get cozy, because you’ll never have all the answers! Sometimes, it’s actually a gift to realize that what you thought you wanted isn’t what you wanted at all. And weirdly enough, sitting in that uncertainty can be the very thing that helps you find the clarity you’ve been looking for.