Z to A: I Thought It Was Just A Party Trick

Alphabet Backwards, Confidence Forward

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever been good at?

Mine involved neon drinks, bad dancing, and rattling off the alphabet like I was rewinding a cassette tape.

I didn’t plan on becoming a party trick in college—but somehow, there I was, reciting Z to A in record time while strangers bet me I couldn’t do it.

It started as a way to score free drinks.

But what I didn’t realize then was that I was also building something else:

A quiet kind of confidence that would follow me for years.

I went to college to study accounting—and how to walk into a bar like I belonged there, even when I didn’t.

I thought I had a plan. I really did.

Spreadsheets. CPA exams. A career path.

But somewhere between the dorm room bulletin boards and the line at the campus bar, I discovered another kind of education.

I embraced the social part of college.

New friends. Loud music. Bad decisions wrapped in good intentions.

There were weekends we danced, we laughed, we probably overindulged—but not because we were out to cause trouble. We were just twenty-year-olds trying to figure ourselves out in between classes and cheap drinks.

And somewhere in all of that, I became a party trick.

It didn’t happen every night, and it definitely wasn’t the reason we went out—but every now and then, after a couple of drinks and some bad dancing, someone would nudge a stranger and say,

“Hey, you’ve got to hear what our friend can do.”

Like a circus act in mascara, I’d get hauled in front of strangers to show off my weirdest (and most lucrative) skill:

I could say the alphabet backwards.

Not just say it—speed-run it.

Z-Y-X-W-V, like I was a human cassette tape rewinding at 1.5x speed.

Since we were all broke college girls with student loan ramen habits, we turned it into our unofficial scholarship fund.

One of my friends would casually drop it into conversation at the bar:

“Did you know she can say her ABCs backwards?”

They never believed me.

So I’d bet them a drink—and let the alphabet do the work.

Every time they bet against me, they lost—and I had a drink in my hand to prove it.

And just like that, the drinks started showing up—one Bullfrog at a time—paid for by people who didn’t think I could do it.

Bullfrogs.

Bright green. Glowing like toxic waste.

Probably made from a questionable mix of whatever was within arm’s reach behind the bar.

But that year? Bullfrogs were the drink.

The more I drank, the faster I got.

It wasn’t something I did on repeat—I wasn’t out there giving scheduled performances.

But once or twice a night, if the moment was right, I’d rattle it off and win the bet.

It didn’t make me famous, but it did keep the Bullfrogs coming.

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The Lesson I Didn’t See Yet

It was a silly bar stunt—let’s not pretend it wasn’t.

It involved neon drinks, questionable judgment, and a weird talent I probably should’ve kept to myself.

But looking back?

It was also something else.

It turns out I’ve had this quiet strength—this inner resilience—for a lot longer than I gave myself credit for.

That part of me that speaks up, stands firm, and keeps showing up?

She’s been there all along.

The next morning, I had a headache, a half-finished slice of pizza on the nightstand, and the quiet certainty I held my own.

Sometimes, confidence really is the only souvenir you need.

Because that same resilience has followed me—into every hard job, every uncertain season, every chaotic chapter.

Not always loudly.

But always there.

It keeps showing up, right when I need it.

Once I know I can do something—really know it—

I get braver.

I get faster.

I get louder.

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ZYX, Then and Now

Don’t ignore the quiet part of you that speaks up when it matters.

It might not shout.

It might not show off.

But it knows who you are—and what you’re capable of.

Even when others don’t.

Especially when you start to forget.

Don’t wait for permission to be confident in what you’re good at.

Even if it’s a strange talent.

Even if someone doubts you.

Especially then.

Your voice might be softer than theirs—but it’s yours.

And it matters.

And if someone dares to tell you you can’t?

Well, that’s just fuel.

🧷 Quote of the Day:

“Sometimes, confidence really is the only souvenir you need.”

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