I imagine 18-year-old me, 28-year-old me, and the me today sitting at a bar. They’d all get along kee-keeing with one another. They’d converse about talking the crying customer out of the plane bathroom before take off, or telling the one man, “I’m as hot and chocolate as he was going to get,” because we didn’t have hot chocolate 30,000 feet in the air.

18-year-old me was naive, still full of cheer, and ready for a world that she knew nothing about. I was a customer service representative at the time. I hadn’t gotten my heart stomped on. I hadn’t met my girl tribe from Carlow, and I hadn’t been laid off from my first big girl job. I don’t know a lot, but I do know that 18-year-old me would be proud of today’s me. 37-year-old me built community, boundaries, and a world of leap before you look because you never want to regret not doing anything. One thing I’ll never have to fear is staying still because I’m afraid to jump.

Being paralyzed because of fear, I don’t know her.

“You can’t be mayor. You’re too young. You don’t have enough experience.” That’s not what the Braddock Council told 28-year-old me, but that’s what I heard. I had done my due diligence, written my letter, and even given a speech. I planned on going about my day and still volunteering in the community, even with the initial rejection. I had planned my Las Vegas Birthday Vacation. It was business as usual. I had tried.

“We didn’t do our due diligence. We picked someone who wasn’t a resident, so we have to do this process all over again.” That’s what I heard. It’s not how Braddock Council worded it.

I’m the middle child and only girl, so I’m not a quitter. I applied again. I dressed up, wrote another speech, and sent a letter. I gave my speech in the council chambers. I was confident, even though my voice quivered. I was 28, my hair was purple, and I had already been rejected once. In my mind, I had nothing to lose.

“Chardae Jones!”

Did they just say my name? I remember thinking when they announced the appointment. Everything seemed like a blur, but I do remember being sworn in later, being whisked away to an executive session, and being handed two internal police investigations. It quickly got real. My first order of business was to meet all of the officers who, overnight, I became their supervisor. It was scary and exciting because I was sure that I was going to learn something from them, and they were going to learn something from me. Oh, how naive. I had no idea what was in store that February of 2019. I was appointed Mayor of a small town, but I had big dreams and knew it was a weak-mayor system. I knew that anything was possible, and I could take some of my healthcare IT process improvement skills into government. After all, I had to keep my day job as mayor, which paid less than $100 a month. But I wasn’t doing it for the money. I was doing it for the hope of change.

Thinking of making this a weekly series, as I’ve been told by multiple people to write this or I will forget it.