quiet-the-power-of-introverts-in-a-world-that-cant-stop-talking-susan-cain

seminar for his entire executive team, I
agreed—enthusiastically, even!—for
reasons I can’t fathom now. I find myself
praying for calamity—a flood or a
small earthquake, maybe—anything so
I don’t have to go through with this.
Then I feel guilty for involving the rest
of the city in my drama.
The car pulls up at the client’s office
and I step out, trying to project the
peppy self-assurance of a successful
consultant. The event organizer escorts
me to the auditorium. I ask for directions
to the bathroom, and, in the privacy
of the stall, gulp from the water
bottle. For a few moments I stand still,
waiting for the alcohol to work its magic.
But nothing happens—I’m still terrified.
Maybe I should take another
swig. No, it’s only nine in the morning—what
if they smell the liquor on
my breath? I reapply my lipstick and
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