My job title temporarily changed yesterday as I hauled unfamiliar camera equipment, bounced indiscernible light off reflectors, and marveled as Mark worked his magic. Assistant Photographer is much too generous; even Assistant to the Photographer is pushing it. Employee Completely Ignorant When it Comes to Photography but the Least Busy on a Random Thursday is probably most accurate.

The all-day shoot was at a law firm in the Loop, and I was amused that even lawyers get strangely giddy with a camera in the room. They took turns adjusting collars, smoothing hair, worrying about wrinkles and, perhaps the most humorous, debating (it’s what they do best, right?) about whether to show their teeth when they smile.

I had my own anxieties: I didn’t know any more about photography than the lawyers did–maybe even less if there was a closet amateur in the group. As we worked, Mark would try to explain to me what all the foreign-looking equipment was for. He spoke of continuous tungsten lights, natural strobes and soft light backdrops. I would stare back with a glazed look on my face. What does tungsten mean? What on earth is “natural” about strobe lighting? How can a giant, glowing bulb be considered soft light? And what, exactly, is this weird umbrella thing for?

I tried to console myself. At least I was strong enough to carry the big, cushioned box with all the cables, lenses and other stuff I couldn’t identify so that Mark could carry the other eight bags of equipment. Oh and I could park the car while he set up. That was helpful.

While Mark spent the day tweaking lighting setups, directing people where to stand, reassuring them that their expressions looked professional yet pleasant, and capturing beautiful photos, I killed a significant amount of down time by blending in with the nearest wall and silently cursing my so-called “comfy” shoes. Knees and feet aching from standing all day, on my way home I vowed to never again be fooled into thinking that my well-worn ballet flats provide adequate support. Man, I could never be a photographer.

One of the senior lawyers had felt the same way. “I could never be a photographer,” she told Mark. “I don’t have a single creative bone in my body.” Mark responded by saying that he had no idea how to be a lawyer. “And that’s why everything works out, right?” Her question was more of a statement, and I nodded inwardly in agreement. She was referring to the world at large, but it’s even true for a five-person company like Cultivate. Thank goodness we’re all good at different stuff; things would never work out otherwise.