Since I’m being honest (maybe sometimes too honest) I’m gonna tell you—writing this post feels a little uncomfortable. And if you feel that way sometimes too, that’s okay!
Sharing your own story can be hard. There’s always that little voice that wonders: Am I sharing too much? Is this too personal? What if this pushes someone away?
I’ve had all of those thoughts and then some. But I’ve also come to realize something important: I’m not meant to connect with everyone—that’s not the goal.
The goal is to connect with the right people.
The ones who read something, see something, and think, “I can relate to that!” And if sharing my story helps even one person feel more confident to step into their own . . . then it will be worth it. Because at the end of the day, that’s why I’m here!
To help you live your “one day” today. And part of that is being willing to show up first.
I wasn’t what you would call the “obvious” fit to work in the automotive industry.
If you had looked at me from the outside, I probably didn’t make a lot of sense there. I didn’t grow up around it. I didn’t speak the language. And I couldn’t tell you what half the parts did.
In the beginning I had a lot of reasons to doubt myself.
Everything felt like it had a giant learning curve . . . and I was losing.
I can remember being in the middle of a conversation between technicians, the shop manager, the service advisor, and the business owner. They were talking a mile a minute about things that made zero sense to my brain—and there was no way that I was going to ask them to explain.
But since I am overly honest, I admitted out loud to their group, “Wow, it’s like you guys are speaking a foreign language!” They laughed (with me) and admitted that it truly is its own language.
Thankfully the business owner saw something that even I didn’t.
The value that I brought by being an outsider. Because I wasn’t “inside” that world . . . I saw things differently. I wasn’t viewing things like someone who had been in their industry for 20 years. I was thinking like a customer, and telling their story like someone who wanted to learn more.
Like someone who didn’t understand what was happening under the hood—but wanted to trust the person explaining it.
His trust in me—to be the perfect person for the challenge—changed everything.
When someone in the shop questioned my role or what I was doing, he stood behind me. He allowed me to push back against the way things were “normally” done and to try new things. He taught me how to have confidence in my work and to stop questioning my ideas.
Something that I truly love: Storytelling through video.
I started working there before video became what it is today—before TikTok exploded and pushed all the other social media sites to do the same with Reels.
I started out small by getting them involved in some simple videos, centered around the holidays. I wanted something that people would have an easy time connecting with—a way for people outside the shop to see that the people inside the shop are real people just like them.
And I had an idea: What if we showed people what was actually happening in the shop? What if we showed technicians working on vehicles? Gave people a behind-the-scenes look?
I remember being told: No one wants to see technicians working on cars.
And they definitely don’t want to see the inside of an engine—that’s like watching surgery. People don’t want to see the guts.
But I thought to myself: I would want to see that.
When I walked around the shop I got to see what those guys were doing, and it made me want to see more. And I knew I couldn’t be alone—there had to be other people who felt like me. I thought: I would want to understand what’s happening to my vehicle. I would want to see the care, the process, and the people behind it. So I started filming anyway.
I followed my instinct and did what made sense.
Taking photos. Capturing moments. Trying things that felt a little outside the box.
I’ll never forget the first video I made that showed each of the technicians working in the shop. They were all working on different vehicles and with different machines—machines and cars that I couldn’t even put a name to. But what they were doing had me intrigued, and I wanted to learn more.
I started asking questions when I was out there with them.
I let them tell me what they were doing while the camera was off. Then I asked permission to record them—and they all said yes! I asked them to pause, look at the camera, and smile. I could tell they felt a little silly being filmed. I was feeling slightly embarrassed—I was out of my comfort zone, and I’m sure that my nervousness showed. So I laughed, which made them laugh with me, and it worked.
That was the most excited I’d ever been to edit a video for the shop.
I added the song, “This Is Where Legends Are Made” by Steve Biddison. It felt very fitting to tell the world (at least our small corner of the world) that these guys were legends. And I was equally as excited to share the video with everyone in the shop before I posted it—except when it came to the shop manager.
I was so nervous to hear his opinion. He had a reputation for being honest—sometimes too honest, like me. And that’s what I wanted: someone I could count on to tell me the truth about what they thought.
I’ll never forget the moment he said to me: You proved them wrong.
That’s definitely not what I was expecting. And as he turned his giant grin in my direction, it was probably the highest compliment he could have given me. That moment stuck with me to this day. Not because I was trying to prove anyone wrong . . . but because it helped me reveal something important.
People don’t need more polished marketing. They need something real. They need us to pull back the curtain and share our story. To show them what’s actually happening in our business. To give them the opportunity to get to know the people behind the closed doors.
They need to feel like they understand.
When people can see something, they don’t have to rely on what you say—they can decide what they believe for themselves. And honestly, that’s true for most things in life. And this is where everything starts to shift.
Because there’s a big difference between:
- Telling someone you’re trustworthy—and showing them how you operate.
- Saying that you care—and letting them see how you treat people.
- Listing your services—and showing them what those services look like in real life.
Showing creates clarity. And clarity builds trust.
Most businesses aren’t lacking skill, experience, or good intentions. What they’re often lacking is visibility into who they really are. It’s not every day that your customers get to stand inside your business and watch how you work. They don’t get to hear your conversations, or see your decision-making in real time.
So if you’re not showing them—they’re left to guess.
And when people have to guess, they often fall back on assumptions. And unfortunately, those assumptions aren’t always in your favor.
This is where a lot of hesitation comes in.
You might be thinking:
- I don’t know what to share
- I don’t want to do it wrong
- I don’t want to look unprofessional
- I don’t want to share too much
I get that. I still feel that way sometimes too! But you don’t have to share everything, and you don’t have to be perfect. You don’t even have to have it all figured out to get started!
You just have to be willing to show up.
Start by sharing a little more today than you did yesterday. Let people see what matters to you and let them see how you do what you do.
That’s where powerful marketing begins.
In my next post we’re gonna dive a little deeper. We’ll talk about how your website plays a role in telling your story—and whether it’s helping people connect with you. . . .or not.
And until we meet again: Make sure you keep, Living Your “One Day” Today!