It was about 45 minutes before the first meeting of the day, a double matinee of first-time meetings on boards I had never been to before. I had just dropped off the kids at school and wanted to make a few calls from the new office line at City Hall. My morning coffee had gone right through me, but I knew my new badge could get me in the back way quickly.

There was a restroom near that back entrance that I could swing by before I headed up to my new, barren office on the third floor. It's a McClure family motto, particularly during travel: See a bathroom? You should probably swing by, just in case.

However, it was a restroom attached to an empty conference room. You probably know where this is going: That bathroom was a gamble I lost when a meeting started as I settled in.

But that feeling of startling a few people as I open the door to a meeting in progress is how it's felt being a city council member. You just have to own up to it all being incredibly awkward. Since I don't know when that'll wear off, what I can do is acknowledge it much as I did to that bewildered group — "Hi all, pretend I wasn't here" — and go about trying to be effective, even when calling constituents whose phone mailboxes haven't yet been set up.

It's been a thought I've been stewing on: How can I be the most effective? And tangentially related: How do I do the least amount of harm given my ignorance of the current process, my missing nuance and context, and not having institutional history?

In his book "The Effective Executive," Peter Drucker wrote: "Efficiency is doing things right. Effectiveness is doing the right thing."

While I was handed thick binders, there wasn't a guidebook on being an effective elected official. Even in talking with other elected officials, it sounded like everyone finds their own flow: in how they decide to interact with the public, in how they engage with staff, in how they manage to walk around Walmart and realize that people know who you are in a much more intimate way.

Yep, that's already happened. No more going out in jammies for me. (I'm mostly kidding, even though my mom told me after I won: You'll need some power blazers.)

That recent Walmart trip gave my mom all the motherly pride and slightly embarrassed my kids. My daughter mocked a queen-like wave after I gave a much more Forrest-Gump-inspired wild wave toward the third person. However, I pulled my mom close and told her, "You know, this might reverse at some point."

The smiles could turn to scowls pretty quickly. I know that it won't always be positive because you can't make people happy all the time. That's the unfortunate part; I know that I'm a people-pleaser, from my psyche to my gender conditioning. And yet, the fortunate part is that I know that about myself.

If running for office has shown me anything, staying true to yourself — while not having an immediate correlation to success — does lift the burden on your soul when you're trying to make a decision. For now, I'll stick to the same principles I've had: Listen to my gut, really listen to people and above all, choose kindness. And maybe, just maybe, take a pass on the family motto when the bathroom is attached to a conference room.

Cassie McClure is a writer, millennial, and unapologetic fan of the Oxford comma. She can be contacted at cassie@mcclurepublications.com. To find out more about Cassie McClure and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: Benjamin Child at Unsplash