The Most Inexperienced Person in the Room: Me
It became apparent—fairly quickly—that I was in the wrong room.
And not just the wrong room, like, “Oops, I took the wrong turn down a hallway.” No,
I mean the wrong room, as in, “How did I get myself into this situation?” room. The one where you’re sitting there, smiling and nodding while your insides are doing that thing—that little panic dance—and all you can think is: “Don’t let them see you don’t belong here.”
I had a newborn at home. I had just left what was probably the most unstimulating corporate job ever created—a place where fluorescent lights hummed incessantly, dulling my brain, day after day. I was unchallenged, uninspired, and frankly, I’d deemed myself unemployable by normal standards when I gave my two-week notice.
More than just a paycheck, I needed to feel alive—to wake up with a spark that made me feel like I was contributing to something bigger. And I couldn’t tether myself to a desk in some office park while my baby was in daycare. I would fight tooth and nail to stay home with my son. And I was fortunate enough to have my husband’s and dad’s support.
So, I did the only thing that felt right—I started a business. My THIRD one. 🫣
A tiny one, yes, but it was mine. Elderberry syrups and herbal concoctions made in my kitchen. It became locally popular among the crunchy moms of the hipster towns in the area. And yet, I wanted more.
I had to make it work—not just for myself but to prove I was more than just someone’s wife or someone’s mom. I come from a line of entrepreneurs, after all. There’s something in my blood that craves adventure, and building this business was my way of staking my claim on who I was. I wasn’t just going to fade into female anonymity. I wanted to matter.
But I’d gotten a BFA—yeah, the degree people back home joked about, saying things like, 'Guess you’re not smart,' or 'You must be marrying rich.' For the record, I got an art degree because it’s what I was meant to do (and okay, maybe it was a little bit of rebellion—right, Papá?).
This business had to work, or else… well, I’d be back in that office under those soul-sucking fluorescent lights, watching the years slip by.
Which brings us back to that room—THE ROOM where I was clearly the least experienced person. The most inexperienced. But here’s the thing: I had made an investment to be in this room. I had answered the call of a Facebook post for an entrepreneur group for moms, thinking, “How bad can it be?” So I paid the group fee and now here I was—surrounded by women who were light years ahead of me.
Erin was there—cute, auburn-haired, with a business plan and fearlessness I could only aspire to. She had already opened a couple of brick-and-mortar shops and was launching a kids’ yoga mat business. No biggie, right? Then there was Nikkita, a designer with a mind that worked in spirals of both strategy and art. Sweet and powerful. Shelley was a soulful photographer who, despite not fully realizing it then, had this natural ability to coach people. Christina, the epitome of a natural mama, with her botanical tattoos and trendy, organic, Waldorfish baby store.
And then… there was Maci. More about her later.
In a counterclockwise spiral from the center: Christina, Erin, Maci, Shelley, Nikkita, and me (looking slightly unhinged).
The room buzzed with terms I had only half-heard before—“business plan,” “profit margin,” “ideal customer avatar.” My brain did that thing where it started to shut down. Smile and nod, I told myself. Just keep smiling and nodding.
Don’t let them see you don’t belong here.
I had impostor syndrome in spades. These women? They had business budgets, they had email lists, they knew the word “launch,” they had marketing strategies that didn’t just rely on the occasional Facebook post like mine did. Meanwhile, I was scraping together whatever I could in between naps and nursing sessions, trying to piece together how to pay myself (forget about a “professional development budget”—what?).
But here’s the kicker: they didn’t kick me out. Week after week, I showed up. And you know what happened? I started to get it. Little by little, these women, with all their wisdom and experience, began to rub off on me. They were proof that being the most inexperienced person in the room was exactly what I needed to be.
I learned about rebranding, built a (pretty ugly) website, started thinking about profit for the first time, and eventually, I raised my prices. I was doing it—the entrepreneurship thing. And I was doing it decently well. I even paid myself that December, and I got my kiddos their Christmas presents!
We formed a mastermind, but not one of those “pay-a-million-dollars-for-coaching-disguised-as-community” deals. This was real. A small group of women, all showing up for each other, sharing knowledge, support, and pushing each other to keep going. They’d tell me, “Mariana, your products are going to be on Oprah’s Favorite Things!” or “I can see you in Target!”—and while that wasn’t the path I ended up taking, their belief in me was the catalyst I needed.
I was in a room of Sarah Blakelys. How did I get so lucky?
With their support, I eventually moved on from my herbal business. I leveraged my background in graphic design, honed my skills in copywriting, and started supporting other entrepreneurs. Desk & Design was born.
(This was the former name of Mariana Durst Studio. If you remember this, then you’re a total OG!)
But it wasn’t long before I realized something was still missing—my heart was still tethered to the art world. That’s when I made one tiny adjustment that made all the difference in my life: deciding to work exclusively with fine artists.
So, what’s the point of all this? Well, if I hadn’t been the least experienced person in that room, I wouldn’t be where I am today—running a business I love, doing work that inspires me, for people who inspire me.
And that’s the beauty of being surrounded by people who know more than you. It’s uncomfortable. It’s daunting. But it’s the kind of discomfort that leads to growth.
Now, I’m a firm believer in professional development. I invest in it because I’ve seen what happens when you do—doors open. Entire worlds of possibility open up when you let yourself be the most inexperienced person in the room.
And speaking of people who push you to grow, let me introduce you to someone who’s had a major hand in my own journey, and part of my OG mastermind—Maci Wescott. She’s a copywriting queen, offer strategist, and total metrics maven with over 250 launches under her belt. Maci doesn’t just help you make waves; she helps you ride them. Together, we’re leading Calibrate, a 4-day workshop designed to make those minor adjustments that lead to major breakthroughs.
Calibrate Week starts October 21st!
I’d love for you to check out our new website and join us! We’ll also be launching a 6-month business accelerator, so make sure you sign up for our waitlist.
