“Dear Ngozi, trust this mail finds you well…”
So far, so normal.
Then I kept reading.
There will be an event where the MD will be a panellist, and you will be responsible for creating content, capturing key moments, and editing, as the content will be used for our social media platforms and any necessary communications.
“Ahh!”
That was the first thing that came out of my mouth.
My mind immediately went to the people on my team who were already good at this, content baddies, as I like to call them. The ones who had covered events several times and somehow knew where to stand, what moments to capture, which angles worked, and how to turn hours of activity into a few compelling seconds of content.
Surely, one of them should be doing this.
Until that point, I had always been comfortable providing support during event coverage. There was a certain confidence that came with knowing someone more experienced was there. I could contribute, learn, and execute my part, but ultimately, I wasn’t carrying the full weight of getting the coverage right.
This time, I was, and almost immediately, the questions started coming.
“What if I don’t get the right shots? Which angles should I focus on? How do I know which moments matter? When it’s time to edit, which clips do I use? What if I miss something important?”
So, I did what many of us do when responsibility suddenly feels bigger than us: I reached out to someone who knew more than I did.
“Ike, please help.”
I asked questions. I listened. I picked up tips on shooting, angles, and editing. And somewhere between the anxiety and all those questions, I realised something: not feeling ready didn’t mean I had to remain unprepared.
Eventually, the day came. There was no more time to wonder whether someone else would have done it better. I gathered my equipment, went to the event, and got to work.
I captured the MD’s session, audience reactions, networking moments, and the little details that helped tell the story of the event. Then came the next challenge: sorting through everything I had captured, selecting the strongest moments, editing the content, and finally sharing it.
Was everything perfect? No.
I received feedback on things I could have done differently and areas to pay closer attention to next time. But alongside that feedback came something I hadn’t quite expected: I had done exceptionally well.
And perhaps more importantly, there would be a next time.
Looking back, I realised that the assignment was bigger than simply covering an event. It taught me something about responsibility and the way growth sometimes arrives.
We often imagine that we’ll feel different when we’re finally ready for bigger things. More confident. More certain. Less afraid. We think there will be a moment when we can confidently say, “Yes, I know exactly what I’m doing.”
But sometimes, the opportunity comes first.
Whether at work or in other areas of life, there will be moments when responsibility asks more of us than we believe we can give. A project lands on your desk. Someone asks you to lead. Your manager trusts you to handle something independently. Suddenly, you are standing where you once watched someone else stand.
That is where preparation and courage meet.
Preparation matters because the things we learn while assisting, observing, asking questions, and doing seemingly smaller tasks do not disappear. I may have never covered an event alone, but I had watched it, I had supported, I had learned, and when I didn’t know enough, I asked.
But preparation alone cannot eliminate every feeling of uncertainty. At some point, you still have to step forward.
Perhaps that is why one of my boss’s favourite quotes by Winston Churchill resonates differently with me now:
“To every man there comes in his lifetime that special moment when he is figuratively tapped on the shoulder and offered a chance to do a very special thing, unique to him and fitted to his talents. What a tragedy if that moment finds him unprepared or unqualified for that which would be his finest hour.”
I used to think being prepared meant feeling ready. Now, I’m beginning to understand the difference.
You can prepare, learn, observe, and build your skills and still feel nervous when your moment comes. Feeling uncertain does not always mean you are incapable. Sometimes, it simply means you are standing at the edge of something you haven’t done before.
So, when that figurative tap on the shoulder comes, prepare as much as you can. Ask the questions. Learn from people who have gone ahead of you. Pay attention while you’re still in the supporting role.
And when your turn comes, even if your first response is still “Ahh!”, step forward anyway.
You may discover that the shoes you thought were too big are exactly the ones you have been growing into all along.
