On my second day at my new job as a pianist for a ballet school and company , I found myself struggling through the combinations. I thought that certainly after some practice, the job would become easier, but I suddenly found myself over thinking the counts, struggling with intros, and having trouble “squaring off the piece.” I was worried the instructor was getting frustrated at the disruptions. Even worse, the owner of the company, made visits in and out of the class room and I was certain she noticed my fumbles. The mirrored room reflected my image like a string of paper dolls. Every missed count echoed against the walls. Every mistake was magnified by a hundred. When the night was over, the owner very seriously pulled me aside and asked, “Can you stay a bit after?” I nervously replied that I could and she motioned for me to walk back to her office. As I sat there waiting for her to enter, I actually texted Eddie, “I think I’m about to get fired.” I silently prepared my plea for