Years ago, a company I worked for needed someone to travel to Africa to film a worldwide summit they were attending. Interviews, B-roll, the whole thing. Someone else on my team got the assignment, and I thought it should have been me.

The professional way to handle that would have been to schedule a conversation with my boss and make a thoughtful case. Instead, I went out for drinks with him. After a few cocktails, I delivered what I’m sure was an incredibly polished argument that sounded something like, “Why are you sending them? I should be going to Africa. Send me.”

The next morning, I woke up with a hangover and a ticket to Africa. Apparently, I’d made my point.

Unfortunately, the trip came together so quickly that my visa hadn’t made it through. When we landed in Côte d’Ivoire, I was sent to what I now refer to as “airplane jail” while they figured things out. Eventually, they let me out, and everyone clapped as I emerged with my luggage. Thankfully, someone captured this important moment in my career.

Once released, I had a job to do. It was just me and a camera, responsible for interviews, covering the event, and getting enough footage to bring the story home. That would have been plenty to manage on its own, but then I got sick from the water. I’ll spare you the details, except to say that knowing where the nearest bathroom was became an essential part of my production workflow. For the rest of the trip, I lived on peanuts.

So there I was, on the assignment I’d insisted I deserved, with a camera, a schedule full of things to capture, and a digestive system that had absolutely no interest in my career ambitions. But I got good footage, and I came home happy with what I’d captured.

I still laugh about how certain I was over drinks that I should be the one going. I’d imagined the opportunity. I hadn’t imagined airplane jail or the peanuts.

That’s happened to me in less dramatic ways, too. You want the bigger assignment, pitch the project, or finally put yourself forward for something you’ve been thinking about. Then someone says yes, and you realize how much you’re going to have to figure out.

I’ve sometimes taken that feeling as evidence that I’ve made a mistake. You wanted this, so why does it feel so difficult? But wanting an opportunity doesn’t mean you know everything it will require. Sometimes you find that out while you’re doing it.

I wouldn’t recommend cocktails as a career development strategy, but I am glad I spoke up. My boss knew what I could do. He may not have known how much I wanted that assignment.

If there’s work you want to do, have you actually told anyone? Preferably clearly, and before the third drink.

Have you ever fought for an opportunity, got it, and then thought, “Oh boy. Now I have to do this”? Hit reply. I’d love to hear it.

Until next week!