The surprising tool that helps me accomplish great things

No electrifying sensation tickled my body last April, when my name was called over the microphone, as a second-place winner in a journalism national competition. I knew I was going to be among finalists. My article – a love story between two math teachers – had just enough drama to make you shed a tear and also a happy ending. I was completely unprepared though to give a speech.

The ceremony, held on the top floor of a library, felt intimate, despite having some public figures in the jury. I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt, took a deep breath and stood up to receive my diploma, while others cheered. A young woman handed me a huge white and purple bouquet of Gerbera daisies. All those branches made my chest burn; other than that I felt like a million bucks.

In the middle, happy to be a finalist

“Would you like to say a couple of words”, someone asked, slamming all my confidence. No, I actually didn’t want to say anything, except asking for my 300 dollars prize. Then I surprised myself. “Thank you! The money will go straight to my piggy bank. We are saving ten thousand dollars to move to America. Every bit counts, right? ”, I said with a dumb smile on my face. It wasn’t the first time when I spontaneously told people about my plans. I had some ‘bragging training’ under my belt.

Let me explain. Up until last year, when we were selected in the Visa Lottery, I was the type of person who loves to brag and then feels bad for doing so. It was a vicious cycle. But an important takeaway from this experience was that spreading the word about your dreams and projects, a mild form of bragging, acts like a pair of bellows blowing over a pile of wood. It gets the fire started. When sharing an idea with acquaintances, I found, chance are they’ll set you up with someone who can help move things forward.  

Just a fraction of those who helped us move to America

How could I otherwise meet George, 43, who lives in Ohio, thousands of miles away? We connected via Facebook in 2013, after I send a group email breaking the good news to my entire list and asking for contacts in America. A dozens answered back, offering names. Some, old friends of them, some, people with whom they switch business cards between conferences.  I end up using just two. Those two represented 50% of my success. 

George played a particularly key role, because he offered my husband a position in his small cleaning company – job offers from a U.S. employer usually seal the deal when it comes to American visas. Now, a year later, we regularly chat over the phone. George usually talks about his son, George Jr., and their shared passion for Lego, and we always promise to visit Ohio. “Could you believe we live just a four-hour drive apart?” he told me the other day.

The months leading to our arrival in America, I was like a broken record, confessing my dream to every person I spoke. Including the cleaning lady from work, a Romanian ex-minister of Education and hundreds of strangers who happened to sit next to me in a line, bus or train. Many disapproved. “You’ll either get fat or killed in a terrorist attack”, a coworker warned me during lunch break, waiving her fork in my face.

Still, my enthusiasm grew stronger each time, mostly because I was seeing results. A handful of people pitch in with money or valuable contacts; many gave me advice and support. But hey, the mere fact that I’m writing this from my living room in Chicago proves every bit does count.