The night before DSE Famzilla, a family event where employees and their families come together to celebrate, I told my brother, “I don’t know if I can do this.”
I had signed up to be an emcee. Voluntarily. But as the day got closer, reality hit. Harsha, my co-host and a fellow Cisconian, was a seasoned emcee. I was a first-time host, just two months into my first job, fresh out of college, and someone who lives with social anxiety — the hyper-aware kind, where the outside world feels loud and my heart beats fast. I was up the night before figuring out what to wear, as if the right outfit could somehow make me feel ready. My brother said, “You will do it. You can.” I held onto those words and went to sleep.
The next morning was a different kind of chaos — I was entirely in my head. How many people will come? Will I go blank on stage? Will the questions I ask even land?
The day before, Harsha and I worked on the script together, going through everything, line by line, with him genuinely making sure I was good. That kind of care, before we even stepped on stage, said everything about the culture here. I told him on that call that I had never hosted before, and this was all very new to me. And I thanked him for trusting me anyway.
That’s when he said something I didn’t expect. He told me that someone had believed in him once, too — and that’s why he was here.
The next day, I got there early. And when the families started arriving, kids running in every direction, that energy pulled me out of my head.
I wandered over to the activity stalls — there was face painting, pottery, stone art. I got Dory from Finding Nemo painted on my wrist — and I chose her very intentionally. Dory is someone who gets lost, who is directionally challenged, and just keeps swimming anyway without always knowing where she’s going. Having her on my wrist that day felt like a little reminder to just keep going.
Then, I painted a penguin on a stone, and before I knew it, kids were lining up behind me wanting to try, too. For a little while I forgot I was about to host anything.
Then, I spotted the DSE Famzilla organizer, a Senior Director of Engineering. I had looked him up on LinkedIn beforehand and knew he had spent over 21 years at Cisco. I also knew he was passionate about aviation, psychology, and spirituality. So when I got a chance to talk to him, I asked him about those interests. He was so approachable and humble — nothing like what I had expected.
Then I told him I’d be hosting today. He asked if I’d done it before. I told him it was my first time. He just smiled and said, “This is a safe space. You can explore whatever you want to do here.”
I don’t know why those words hit so differently. But they did. It felt like suddenly I wasn’t being judged. We were all just there to have fun.
When it was time, I followed Harsha on stage. The moment I stepped into the lights, the room went completely silent. My voice changed a little. My heart was going fast. But then I just … started. And once I got going, it became easier with every sentence.
Harsha helped more than he probably knows. He kept cracking jokes throughout. Moments like that pulled me back every time I started to spiral.
When I had to introduce the engineering leader, my nerves spiked again — I did not want to mess up his name or his title in front of everyone. But it went fine. He told me later it was very flattering. That small detail made me feel so proud.
And then there was this moment — a girl who sings beautifully asked Harsha before her introduction to keep expectations low. “Don’t hype me up,” she said. He introduced her as extraordinary. She was. And watching that, I realized the words you choose for someone before they even open their mouth can change how they walk into a room.
Behind all of this were the organizers who had been quietly holding everything together. Coordinating every activity, performer, and little detail, making sure each person felt comfortable, seen, and fed. They never made it about themselves. That kind of invisible effort is what made the whole day feel like a genuinely safe space.
On my way home, it was raining heavily. The nerves had washed away, replaced by the realization that I belonged here.
After that day, I kept thinking about something. In school and college, opportunities like these were rare. Here at Cisco, two months into my apprenticeship, I was already being given a stage, not just for technical growth, but to grow as a person. Someone opens the door, the people around you make you feel safe and seen, and all you really have to do is show up as yourself.
Showing up is where it all begins.
Even after this incredible experience, I still get nervous, have anxiety, and get in my own head. But I’m learning that you don’t need to have it all figured out to begin. You just need one person — or a place — that makes it okay to try. And when you find that, pay it forward. Check in on the person next to you. Introduce them as extraordinary.
Growth doesn’t always happen when you’re ready. Sometimes it happens because someone believed you were — before you did.
Ready to find a place where you can grow, be supported, and bring your authentic self to work every day? Explore our open opportunities and start your own journey at Cisco.
