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Three (More) Lessons You Can Learn From Susan Boyle's Career

The only reason Susan Boyle crossed my radar is because white women love her.  And I work with a lot of white women.  In an attempt to remain culturally in sync, I watched Susan Boyle on YouTube.  She has a beautiful voice, but she didn't move me like they said she would.  Sorry. 

I have to admit I was on the verge of giving up on her and just chalking her up to another one of those things I just don't get.  Then Penelope Trunk wrote that I could learn something from watching her career.  I trust Penelope's advice, so I kept watching Susan.  And when I found out she was in rehab, I realized I could indeed learn something. 

1. Fame is very different from success.  Seek success.  
 
Fame is overrated.  It's actually a big rip off because most of the time, you don't even get to pick what you're famous for.  For instance, take Bristol Palin.  At 17 years old, she is most famous for having unprotected sex while her mom was trying to win an election--and then getting pregnant by a self-described 'f--kin redneck'. 

Disagree? Ok, how about Kate Gosselin?  As a working mother of 8 who has some amazing accomplishments under her belt, the thing she is most famous for is a broken marriage.  And a unremitting funk that is primarily due to her Type A personality.  It's kind of sad.  Because I think she's pretty cool. 

And then we have Susan Boyle, who is famous for being funny looking.  Don't get me wrong, she can sing.  Her voice inspires people.  The fame, however, is a direct result of the surprise that she isn't traditionally beautiful, or even close.  As if fame wasn't isolating enough, being famous for being odd looking is a big cross to bear.  

The good news is, you don't have to like your fame to take advantage of it. 

Success, on the other hand, is undervalued because it often flies below the radar.  And you have to be incredibly self-aware to take advantage of it.  Self awareness doesn't come with all the perks of fame. I think many times, people seek a version of fame within their career instead of success.  So they miss great opportunities to learn at work because they want to be known.  They miss chances to be relevant because they want to be recognized.  They just want to be famous, no matter the cost. 

2. There are things that are good, but not best.  
 
For instance, being unforgettable.  I choose that word carefully because I really feel she is worthy of it.  There just can't be another Susan Boyle.  The problem with being unforgettable, though, is that people can not just 'forgive and forget' when you mess up.  They may forgive, but then they proceed with caution.

The greatest power in life is to believe you have choices.  And when Susan Boyle acknowledged her power and chose to rid herself of outmoded social virtues such as 'losing graciously,' the press took notice.  And they didn't forget.     

Ideally it's good to express yourself freely, but it may not be the best option when you're involved in a national competition.  Or anywhere where social proof is more important that your own emotional world.  For most of us, work is one of those places.  That includes you, Lebron.   Sorry.

3.  You Can't Choose What You Fall in Love With, But You Can Choose Where You Look
 
Although I wasn't her biggest fan, it was obvious to me that Susan Boyle loved to sing.  She didn't need to be a winner of competition to prove that.  It was also obvious to me that when she entered Britain's Got Talent, she was searching for something greater.  And that's ok.  It's a natural thing to want to be recognized for something you do well. 

But she chose a competition that gave her overnight celebrity status, attention and fame--which in turn brought anxiety, exhaustion, and illness into her life.  She was looking to scratch an itch and ended up with a welt. 

Losing stinks, especially losing at this magnitude.  Sometimes second place isn't all that it's cracked up to be.  And while we're at it, sometimes neither is a CEO spot, or a start-up, or a corporate conglomerate. 

Knowing where to look, and when to try, boils down to knowing who you are and what you want.  And then knowing there are many things that we think we want, until we get them.  Or until we come in second place. 
 
To take the lyrics from the song that made her famous: But there are dreams that cannot be/and there are storms we cannot weather./I had a dream my life would be/so different from this hell I'm living/so different now from what it seemed./Now life has killed the dream I dreamed

Irony is the new black...

I'm happy to say that Susan is out now and says she feels 'bloody fantastic'.  I truly hope she stays that way.  Cheers!

If hindsight is 20/20, what's insight?

I honestly have no idea who reads this blog.  Sometimes I forget I have an audience. 

Tonight I got an email from an old friend who found me via Google.  He says of my blog, "I am impressed, but not surprised.  What I am reading is straight out of your heart." Damn. He's right about me.  I didn't even know he could be right about me.  But now that I know, I'm glad he's right about me...

When I am reminded that people, do in fact, read this blog, my attitude about writing shifts from a mild insecurity to a full blown fear.  Because the way you write affects how people react to you.  And even though Reverend Run (of former Run DMC fame) says you should live your life as an open book if you can set a good example, I'm not really sure what kind of example I'm setting.  So I don't know how open my book should be. 

What I do know, is that with this new mood of total disclosure comes an unintended consequence: worry.  And what I know even more than that is that I hate when people worry about me.  I've worked my whole life so that nobody, including me, has to worry about me...So do me a favor.  Keep reading, but don't worry about me.

Matter of fact, hope for me.  Pray for me.  Wish good upon me. Just don't WORRY about me.  

Last week, I got another really nice email from someone who has began reading this blog.  My favorite part was the part that said, "I'm excited about you"...You know how you read something, and you just know it in your bones to be true? Well, I read that sentence over and over.  It made me smile. 

I needed that smile.  There are times when smiling is just as difficult as it seems.  

Since Sean passed, things have been different for me.  I notice things.  Like how long it takes someone to respond to a text message, or how many gray hairs I have--even though they're hereditary.  It is both a beautiful and awful way to live your life.  Wanting everything, noticing everything, being affected by everything.

I am not in the best place emotionally.  Losing someone to suicide is a very peculiar kind of loss.  It makes you defensive.  It makes you worry about the wrong things, like your parents dying while they're traveling on business.  And because you're hurting, you give people access.  Access makes it easier for people to disappoint you.  Sadly, there will be people who inevitably disappoint you. 

The most beneficial effect of this kind of tragedy, however, is that it makes you redefine happiness in a way that preserves your own mental health.  Like tonight, when I was filling out one of those goofy surveys on Facebook.  The question was, 'Are you happy with your life right now?" and while I used to be able to respond with 'HELL YEAH!' Tonight, my response was a more accurate: 'The truth is I'm happy, until I'm not."

It's just that simple, folks. 

I do OK on most days. Until I remember that I'm trying to forget a thing that was probably the most special thing I have ever had in my life.  Then I lose it.  Losing it reminds me of this article I read that included a conversation between a professor and a twenty-something student.  "Your problem," the professor says, "is that you haven't figured out you're going to live for a very long time." 

You know how you read something and you just know it in your bones to be true? Well, I read that sentence over and over.  It made me smile.  

And there are times when smiling is just as difficult as it seems.  

Marriage: You Pick A Person, And Then You Make It Work

Today, May 17, 2009, my parents have been married 29 years. 

Holy crap.  Love and Marriage. 

Let's start with love.  The thing about love is that, unless you've experienced it real and raw, you never understand it's power to heal.  It may be hard sometimes, but once you stop believing in love, it changes you. 

Then there's marriage.  The thing about marriage is that people don't give it the power it's due.  I believe it's because so many people haven't experienced it.  Nowadays, there are less and less instances of it being done the right way for people to use as reference points. 

When you get married, someone has said before GOD they are building a life with you.  You're no longer alone.  You can no longer be reckless with your behavior.  You have someone else to think of...someone who considers you his rib.  That's powerful. 

My mom and dad have the same bank account.  Yep that's right.  The exact same account.  My mom keeps track of all the finances.  My dad spends freely.  When his computer broke down, he went and bought a new Mac the same day.  When my mom wanted to go to TX to see her sister, she went and bought a plane ticket the same day. 

There are no 'rules'.  Their marriage is based on compromise and common ass sense.  And in a relationship, common ass sense added to respect is one hell of a foundation to build on. 

From a very early age I was able to dissect my parent's relationship into two categories: What I would do/deal with and what I wouldn't do/deal with.  The first column is so much bigger than the second. 

I think the secret sauce to my folk's longevity is that, even when life is throwing them curve balls, they never forget to take care of each other.  Tiffany calls me a sap, but I love seeing stuff like that--especially with young couples like her and Will.  

My parents always remember that this whole thing started with just the two of them and if the two of them aren't good, nobody in this house will be good.  It's such a real lesson.  I could not gain true insight into my life until I learned that about theirs.  And respected it. 

I ordered this amazing book off Amazon a few weeks ago.  Six-Word Memoirs on Love & Heartbreak by Writers Famous & Obscure.  It's collection of 'simple sagas' about passion, pain, love and loss--six words at a time.  I became obsessed with the concept, and began trying to sum up my relationships in six words or less but soon found the task too daunting. 

But if I ever got the chance to describe my parent's relationship in a six word memoir, it would simply read: They aren't perfect, they are committed. 

...I love you guys, Happy Anniversary!

The Journey Is Only Valuable If You Can Look Beyond The Controversy

I've always spilled my guts.  But I've also always had really good friends who were great at gut-handling.  I invest a lot into my friendships simply because I know that at some point, one of us is going to screw up.  I need to care about you enough to be able forgive you, even if I don't understand.  And vice versa.  We're as thick as thieves, baby! :)

I have to admit that it's difficult to build this kind of rapport with someone.  It's hard to make someone appreciate your core enough to not judge every single one of your actions.  It takes a special kind of effort that most people aren't willing to give.  Most people don't know how.         

At Sean's funeral a few weeks ago, one of his 'old friends' was a speaker.  He walked up to the podium and captivated the audience with candid stories about the times he and Sean spent together.  Then he told us that he and Sean had stopped hanging out about 2 years ago.

"Sean had ISSUES," he said, "I loved him, but the guy had issues" 

His statements didn't sit right with me.  Maybe because he said 'but' instead of 'and'.  Or maybe he could've said 'when'...But mostly, I think it was because he was talking about Sean's issues as if he didn't have any of his own.  Like his whole life had been perfect.  Please.  
 
I was reading Jamie's blog and she has an interesting discussion about whether all popularity was created equal.  She feels like the people who have made it to the top using traditional tactics (like blood, sweat, and tears) are more credible than those who have used another more controversial tactic (like sex, lies, or dishonesty).  

I responded that what really matters in my book, is what you do once you're at the top.  If you happen to reach that sweet spot at the intersection of success and fame, and you use your subsequent power to do good things, then I can't judge the steps you took or the 'issues' you may have had.  It's not my place.  Your journey is just that, yours.  If you choose to share it with me, I should be so lucky.  Maybe I'll learn something.   

I find the concept of one kind of success being more deserved than another kind of success rather ironic.

Because as humans, we are biased to look out for self first.  And that same bias is a cornerstone to our generation's relationship with our employers, institutions of higher learning, our political views and even our parents.  Traditionally, it's viewed as selfish--yet, here we are blogging about it. 

We're spilling our guts about how we quit jobs, denounce companies, and to top it off, we talk openly about our insecurities.  And we're doing it with thousands of people who may not be good gut handlers.  Talk about risky behavior.

We get intimate with complete strangers all in the name of 'having a conversation'.  Or getting a job.  Or becoming millionaires off the blog hits that come from our unsolicited, albeit controversial, honesty. 

Every generation's moral arrogance is stronger than the one before it.  Someday a younger, smarter generation will come along,  Among them, will be the children of mommybloggers, and they will say our means were 'questionable'. They will pledge to make it to the top, but they will make it by doing something different.  Something inherently 'better'. 

They too, will wonder whether someone like me, who has done the things that I've done, really 'deserves' it.   Because the truth is, there are some things that make total sense in the short term, but completely lose their relevance long term.  That includes sex, lies and dishonesty.  And maybe even blogging.  Sometimes you need to look beyond the controversy, and just focus on the facts.

As cultural values continue to change, so will the tactics.  And Seth Godin is right.  The answer will probably be no, I don't 'deserve' any of it.  

And I still won't care.  My journey is mine.  Let the work I've done speak for me.

If My Mom Had A Blog, I'd Read It Every Day

Well, maybe every other day, because when she tells a story, no detail is left unsaid.  My Dad and I have been accused of being 'rude' because we interject things like "you already said that" and "I'm sorry, what was the point?". She's never deterred though.  She just sighs and tries to do it without the detail, but she can't.  She's too consistent.

Great bloggers are consistent.  

Her favorite joke is about two birds sitting on a boat.  One named Pete and one named RePete.  She tells you that Pete falls off the boat. "Who's left??" she asks.  You unsuspectingly respond with a hesitant 'Re-Pete?' and she finds great joy in starting the joke all over.  You can't make that kind of thing up.  She is FUNNY! 

Great bloggers are funny. 

My mom supports small businesses.  She's kept the same housekeepers, handymen, and dry cleaners for years because she is a loyal customer.  If she likes your product, she will buy it.  She will stay in situations longer than she needs to just because once-upon-a-time she believed in you.  And when others stopped, she didn't. 

When I told her that it wasn't normal for her nail polish to chip after one day, I also asked her how her long-time manicurist stayed in business.  She told me that it was because Mimi is mild natured.  "AND," she added rather matter-of-factly, "Mimi has a lot of special needs and elderly clientele".  

My mom likes that Mimi will fix your nails if you mess them up before you leave.  So I ask her if Mimi fixes the nails that Mimi messes up.  And Mom doesn't think that's funny.  Not even a little bit. 

My mom would be a great blogger because she's someone who truly wants people to know how she thinks.  She doesn't just type about it, she lives it.  In fact, one of her favorite phrases is, "is there a manager I can speak to?".  Good or bad, she actually fills out customer feedback surveys.  She is a marketers dream--if you can find her.  Because she's not online.  Which makes her opinion her own.  And more credible.

Great bloggers have a credible opinion. 

For her, receipts are not just pieces of paper.  For her, they are a guarantee that your product is what you say it is.  So she keeps every single one and she will absolutely return an item if it fails.  In fact, when she received notice that one of our cars was involved in a large class action suit for maintenance issues, she dutifully responded by pulling all maintenance receipts and sending them in.  A hefty 5-figure refund check arrived in the mail a few months later.  My mom wasn't surprised.  She was vindicated. 

My mom is the epitome of what we should all strive to be.  Namely, someone who cares.  Someone who listens...to EVERYBODY. 

Most lessons in the home are taught by observation.  I spent almost 6 years away from home and the entire time I wondered what I was missing.  Little did I know, the entire time I was doing things the way my mother does.  I clean the way she cleans (in piles), and I fold sheets the way she folds sheets (with all the pieces stuck in the middle).  I even show love the same way that my mother shows love.  Turns out, I've learned a lot from my mom without her telling me I needed to learn it.  And without me even realizing I've picked it up. 

And when I think about it like that, I could be doing a lot worse.  I'm so grateful the lessons I learned from my mother are ones that I'm proud to say I'm repeating.  She's a role model. 

We need more role models in the blogosphere. 

If my mom had a blog, I'd read it (almost) every day.  Happy Mother's Day, Mommy!

Everybody's Talking About Relationships Because Talking About Them Is the Easy Part

I met these dudes at a Cinco de Mayo celebration yesterday.  We started talking about dating, not dating each other, just dating in general.  I'm by no means an expert, because my dating patterns are careful and specific.  I date with a purpose. 

See I feel like if you become consumed with casual dating, your life begins to be shaped around always having 'somebody'.  Instead of really focusing on an individual, you try and fit every potential suiter within the general space that you've carved out for 'somebody' to exist within.  You begin to do things like ask cliche questions and give stock answers. 

Whether they're a good fit has nothing to do with them, and everything to do with all the individuals that came before them and what impressions those people left in that space...That's baggage and it's not helping your cause.  I use the same logic when it comes to job hunting.  I don't casually apply for jobs, either.  I am careful and specific.  I apply with a purpose.

Anyway, I digress.

One of the guys at the table said something along the lines of, 'I want to meet a woman who could fall in love with me at my worst'.  His logic being that if he met her when he wasn't his best self, and she stuck around, then she's the one...

Say what??

Sorry. Does not compute. 

Seriously. There are certain dating phenoms that make no sense, no matter how much I think on it.  And this is one of them. 

I was talking to my writer-friend Kevin, and he asked me about my last relationship and what I learned.  I gave the short version and admitted I made some mistakes.  But when it got to the part about what I learned from it, I couldn't answer.  Kevin could.  He told me that in his last relationship, he learned about his boundaries and what makes him tick.  I was impressed--until I remembered he's a writer.  All of his learnings are probably documented :)    

While I wish everyone enlightenment, the reality is that we don't all reach the point of 'learning about relationships', or anything else for that matter, from our mistakes. There are too many people who believe they aren't making any mistakes.  And even more who choose not to learn anything from them. Like the Cinco de Mayo guy.   

I just don't operate within such spaces.

I think it's great to talk about relationships.  How to build them and how to keep them.  However, the bottom line is that being successful in a relationship, starts and ends with you.  It's about self-awareness.  If you're good at relationships, you can walk away and take something from each of them.  If you're not, you can walk away and it ends up taking something from you. 

And you live your life like Cinco de Mayo guy--always talking, because talking is the easy part.  Instead of creating and exploring options with people at your BEST, you walk around showing people your worst and then 'hoping'. 

What comes first--being stupid or being hopeful? 

Anyway, Cinco de Mayo guy was rude.  Not only did he say I was materialistic and shallow, but he said my friends were unapproachable.  When I asked him if he felt better after being so disrespectful to strangers, he responded with a predictable 'yeah, I do!'  Saying hurtful things because they feel good is the easy part. 

I was angry.  And when I drove away, I stuck my hand out of the window and gave him the middle finger.  MAN, THAT FELT GOOD!!!  

...Then I turned around, and I went back and apologized. 

Learning How to Fight Fair is Key to Preserving Good Relationships

Jun Loayza wrote an article about how he knows his girlfriend is the one.  He brought up a couple of great indicators, but my favorite had to be the one where he says that they fight for the right reasons. 

There are times when fighting with someone you love is natural, then there are those others times when it's really, really hard.  And the level of difficulty is not just limited to your fighting with a mate, it applies to family too.  In fact, I fought with my dad a few months ago and cried for 3 days straight.  Words hurt more than anything because they resonate with you for years and years to come.  I used to work with young girls who were all screwed up because of something some knucklehead told them many moons ago.  It's so careless but it's an all too familiar story.

When you are arguing with someone you love, you have to make sure there is a built in filter behind that wall of respect that will make sure you don't cross the line and say something that will stick in their heart and stay there...festering...forever.  Be responsible, people!  

You can fight, but there is a way to fight RIGHT:

1.  No Cheap Shots--This includes "yo mama" jokes, name-calling, and anything of the sorts.  It's distracting and it's mean.  Beyond that, it takes away from the main point of the disagreement.  To respond by throwing out something cheap is passive aggressive.  How is the original issue ever addressed? Now you just have two people who are even angrier for no good reason.

2. Stay on the topic!--I have a girlfriend who is notorious for this.  Every time her boo does something that she disagrees with, she brings up this one time when he was in Vegas and puked in front of the sidewalk cop.  Obviously that one transgression makes him irresponsible for this rest of his life.  Right.  Here's my take: knowing someone's past is a gift.  To use it against them, especially in an argument, doesn't reinforce positive communication or mature interaction. 

3. Say what you have to say, and then SHUT UP!!--There is nothing I hate more then someone who dominates the conversation.  Just as there is a right/wrong way to communicate successfully, there is a right/wrong way to respond in order to correct an action.  And sometimes information is just that...information.  You don't have to add a point of view that counters mine every time I take a breath. 

4. When it's over, it's over.  No revisits!--I used to be guilty of this one.  After we'd finish a big argument, if the other person said ONE thing that even resembled our spat, I'd be all "SEEEEE...THIS is EXACTLY why we argue all the time!"  We'd be in another argument (which in all actuality, is still about the first argument) and he wouldn't even realize it LOL.  Learning how to let go is key to fighting fair.  Each argument should be taken at face value. 

My grandma used to tell me, "the skin you take care of in your twenties is the skin you live with in your fifties."  The same could be said about relationships.  Protect those you love by making sure you don't cross any lines during the fight. 

Cool Jobs Don't Need Traditional Job References, They Need Cultural Ones

"I have a suggestion," I thought to myself, "maybe you should promote a black person."

Yeah, I know we're not supposed to think these things--but I'm being honest.  In the spirit of being honest, I'm going to add that I wish I would've made my suggestion out loud on last Friday's conference call.  And furthermore, I'm pretty sure I'm not the only minority who has felt this way about their effective group.

Here's some truth about my 'cool' job: looking at my org chart is discouraging.  I can count the number of black leaders in my department on one hand--assuming that one hand is fingerless. 

Of all my minority categories, I consider myself black first.  That may upset the feminists, but it's been ingrained in me from Day 1 and it has shaped my life more than being a female has.  Probably because I learned it first. 

I love black culture.  I think rappers and athletes are the original grassroots marketers and have called on many of them, many times, to promote a product or idea.  I believe the electric slide has more team-building capabilities than a normal hour long course on the same subject, and I truly feel everyone should read Motown lyrics just like they do any other poetry. 

I share all of this (and more), with all kinds of people, on a daily basis.  Because knowing something changes the way you experience it.  Knowing someone's cultural background changes the way you interact with them, just like knowing wine changes the way you enjoy it.  And more importantly, because in order to manage smart people, "you have to go out of your way to periodically allow your own points of view to be evaluated, questioned and improved."

Gen Y is supposed to be colorblind, but when I imagine an executive meeting where there is no African American presence, I imagine an executive meeting that ends up with a strategy that is full of missed opportunities and lost chances for revenue increases.  I imagine a company that is vastly limiting their network and doesn't even realize it.    

In my mind, it's Marketing 101.  And in my subconscious, it's Tolerance 101.  I can't help it.  It walks like a duck.

It's not just me.  All of us, in our unconscious, harbor prejudicial thoughts.

Uh huh. Even you.    

Sure, there are many factors that influence an applicant pool and subsequent hires.  And yes, I'm fully aware that diversity is defined by factors other than race and nationality.  But above all that, I truly believe cultural references are one of the strongest things you can bring to the table.  And they are a major reason why Dave Chappelle is filthy rich and why this site is so popular. 
  
Case in point: One of the best lessons I learned about finance came from Ramit Sethi.  He taught me to "negotiate like an Indian." I thought I knew how to negotiate, that skill has been taught for years from both white and black folks around me.  Negotiating like an Indian, however, was best suited coming from, well, an Indian.  And you know what? I remember the advice and utilize it daily.  Apparently, I'm not the only one. 

I could go on and on about the lessons about character that I received from my lesbian best friend, or what I learned about the importance of history and tradition from my new Jewish co-workers enviable week-long commitment to salads during Passover, or what I learned about sense of self from my bi-racial president.

I could, but I won't.  I want to you to find out for yourself.

Why Everyday Is Mother's Day, Or At Least It Should Be

Myself, my mother, and her mother at my graduation in 2006

Monday morning, I woke up sad.  To top it off, my mom was traveling for four days.  Usually I don't mind but lately I've had this nagging feeling that something bad is going to happen.  It's uncharacteristic of me, I suppose it's another stage of mourning.  I hope it passes because one day last week when Nikki didn't pick up her phone or return my text messages, I almost called her mother.  

Turns out she was just in a meeting.  Oops.  

When we finally did talk I explained that I was worried because the last time I didn't hear from somebody, I never heard from him again.  Feeling insecure about my admission, I chuckled to soften the intensity.  She understood and I felt like an idiot; a relieved idiot.  Then she made me laugh at myself and I felt my age again. 

Anyway, my mom was leaving me and I started to get worried.  I started to feel myself going through what I deemed to be an irrational separation-anxiety.  I know how my body deals with anxiety.  I decide to start to "use my words".  That's what the lady on TV said would help.  

"Call me when you get in," I tell her on Monday morning.  

"Ok!" she says back.  Monday afternoon she didn't call. I call her.  

"Have you made it in?" I ask.  Argh, she's still not there yet.  

"I'm about 70 miles away, I'll call when I get there!"  

She doesn't call.  I decide not to call her back because my Mom may not "get" my morbid explanations for irrational behavior.  She probably won't make me laugh at myself like Nikki did.  

She's not supposed to. 

Instead of worrying I sort through the mail, rip open bills and tape another beautiful sympathy card from my Uncle to my mirror.  Then I change clothes and leave the house for the night.  I need to escape. 

I got through Tuesday pretty well.  Wednesday night, while we were eating chicken fingers, my Dad told me he was going out of town the next day.  I could feel my face getting warm.  I tried to run off to my room but my dad actually enjoys my conversation.   So I sat there holding it in until I found the perfect time to escape (again).  I hurry up to my room, turn the lights off, and tell Sean he better look after my Dad tomorrow.  

This morning I called my mom bright and early so she could reassure me about my Dad's flight itinerary.  She answered the phone on the 4th ring.  I counted.  When she picked up, her voice sounded scratchy.  I asked her if she was awake yet and she said she wasn't.  Oops.  I quickly got the information I needed and was ready to hang up.  "Okay thanks, see you lat..."

"So do you think you'll be busy at work today?" she asks out of nowhere.  

I answer her and before I can begin to try and close the conversation, she moves on to the next topic just as erratically as she introduced the first one. "Your brother has been looking for a faster car," she says.

I kept trying to escape and hang up but she was relentless.  I continue answer her queries and smile as she engages me in the random happenings in her world.  She bounces from topic to topic and sprinkles motherly advice like, "and that's why you should only carry ONE credit card," in between her stories.  It was so random but so needed.       

We ended up talking for an hour and I actually forget that I'm supposed to be worrying.  

She ends our conversation with "well thank you for waking me up!" 

I want to tell her the same thing...every single day 

   

I've Got A Cool Job, Just Don't Tell 'Them' That...

Image courtesy of News.Com

Today I sat at my new corporate job and thought, 'I'm one of the lucky ones'. This week marks my seventh week in position. I have a corner cube right next to the window.  So far I've been flown to a 5-Star Resort in Paradise Valley, Arizona for a week long sales conference, I've shaken hands with every important acronym and attended a Baby Shower, Wedding Shower and an International Dish Day all sponsored for my department, by my department.

I've been treated to fancy bagels and kitschy items by hotels who want to see more business from our team.

I got a gift certificate for my 'amazing work' on creating a training manual for the position. 

I even burned a bridge, and I liked it. 

Here's what I haven't done yet.  I haven't worked longer than 8 hours a day.  I haven't felt like what I'm doing is a challenge. I constantly ask myself if this is really what they mean by WORK? This can't be that shit Dilbert complains about.

Hmph. I could've had a V8. 

I'm comfortable being a good employee, but I'm more comfortable being a smart one.  I'm grateful that I'm both and set up a meeting with boss.  He's a Harvard grad, and he's black.  I mention that he's black for two reasons.  One, there's not a lot (read: hardly any, if any) black Harvard grads in the hospitality industry.  He's unique and should be recognized as such.  Two, having a black boss makes me feel more understood.  And for me, feeling understood is key to being 100% candid.

I started out with, "I know I may sound like a bit of a Martian..." and made sure the ellipses were just as present in my tone as they are on this post.   When he didn't react, I felt at ease and finished my thought: "but there's got to be MORE to it than this!!!" You better believe I made sure the exclamation marks were just as present in my tone as they are on this post.  Unofficial expression is powerful. 

I started on a passionate tangent about sacrifice and urgency.  I was preachy and calculated.  I was using buzzwords like 'change management' and 'economic times like these' more times than Nancy Grace says "Tot-Mom" in her syndicated show.  It was well considered and well executed.  My manager nodded his head in agreement, chimed in every once in a while but ultimately he sat back and just listened. 

So I kept going. 

I ranted about how the culture of our department could use a dose of my 'git-er-done' personality.  I pledged to eat Wheaties EVERY.SINGLE.MORNING. I said I would do anything just to try and make a dent in the complicated legacy of this industry.  And when I was done, I felt like I should scrape my hair back into a sloppy dancers knot and stick a ballpoint pen right through the middle of it just to indicate how ready I was.  If that didn't work, atleast it would pre-occupy my hands from cusping my cheeks Home Alone style.   

My manager, in his cool and calm Harvard voice, simply responded: "That's exactly why we hired you...now are you 'bout it or are you not?"

Perfect response. I fully plan on inserting some modern relevance into this job.

A few weeks ago there was some interesting dialogue on the 'net about what makes a job "cool".  For me, cool is doing something that's been done to death and doing it differently. 

Retail. Blogs. Love. And now hospitality.   

Apologizing When You Feel You've Done Nothing Wrong Is Hard--Who Cares? Do It Anyway!

Last week sucked.  I unknowingly made some people upset while I was dealing with this new thing called mourning. And they told me about it. So yesterday I apologized.

Wait, I should probably say it this way: Yesterday I apologized, profusely. 

I didn't want to, it was really hard but I did it anyways.  And I meant it.

It all started when I created something I honestly believed to be thoughtful.  It was heartfelt and raw and I decided to share it with someone I thought would appreciate it like I did.  I gave it away in the same spirit in which it was created, heartfelt and raw.  The person who received it, looked over it and thought it was distasteful.  Their reaction was unexpected and kind of public.  I was hurt.  Actually, I was really hurt.  And then I apologized.  

In my book, acts of apology are right up there with acts of kindness.  One of the most difficult social situations is standing in front of the person who you feel has done you wrong.  An even more difficult situation is saying 'I'm so, so sorry' to that very same person.  Go for the gold and choose the latter.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't always feel this way.  I used to be someone who was driven by the need to prove something more than I was the need to solve something.  I guess the older you get, the more you need to face the truth--and the truth is that oftentimes you have a moment, a single moment, to make someone feel better.  There are no dress rehearsals.  The person that you let walk away angry will inevitably affect many more people with that same energy.  You have to understand that it's bigger than you.  Much bigger...

Apologizing is a completely selfless act--it's saying out loud 'I know my power and I refuse to exploit it!'

I didn't feel like I did anything wrong.  I still don't, but an apology is not so much an admission of guilt as it is an acknowledgment of responsibility.  The distinction is crucial.  Even though you may not have caused the distress, you have the ability to grant a reprieve. 

Yeah I know what they say, it doesn't change things.  Sometimes sorry just isn't enough, but sometimes it is.  Nothing can ever change the past, but a great apologyhas the ability to rewrite tomorrow. 

After all, the last thing you want to do is spend all your time defending yourself instead of just being yourself. 

How many times have you apologized today?

This Recession Will Prove There Are Some Things That Are Cross-Generational

I said it wouldn't be easy and boy was I right.  Although it was speculated to be quite an unlucky year due to the 3 Friday the 13ths, 2009 has definitely proven to be my unluckiest year yet. 

On the first Friday--Friday, February 13--I worked my last day at my company.  While I was fortunate to receive a great job in this economy and leave voluntarily, it all happened very quickly.  I left with significantly less than a two week notice and I didn't get to say goodbye to some of the people who molded me into what I've become.  My team was crushed and the ending was bittersweet.  That job was all I ever knew, and it was a surprisingly tough day for me. 

Thank God Valentine's Day was the next day.  It was a reminder that love is meant to be celebrated. 

One week later, I moved back in with my parents.  I've been living with them for a little over a month now and every day my room seems to be tinier and tinier.  Despite the aesthetics, I'm happy to report we've only had one blow-up.  It was major and it involved some colorful language.  It was regarding 'discretion', a decidedly Boomer trait that I have chosen not to adopt just yet.   

Although there have been times where I've reverted back to my thirteen year old self and transformed into a mindset that was convinced that my parents were never going to understand me, this transition has not been too much a struggle for me.  The love in this house is stronger than my temporary discomfort.

The second Friday--Friday, March 13th--would later prove to be a lot more significant than the first.  Friday, March 13 was the last day I saw my best friend before he took his own life less than 2 weeks later.  His temporary discomfort was just too much. 

I was flying to Phoenix for a week on Saturday, and Sean come all the way to Atlanta to see me off before my first big business trip.  We were used to celebrating first's together.  We ate dinner, drank wine and told stories about how we were going to change the world...Today I am humbled by the talks we had.  

I thought I was this anomaly of a person until I lost someone who took a piece of me with him. 

My spirit can handle sadness.  In my mind, sadness feels organic.  I'm okay with it.  Before Sean died, I didn't know the difference between sadness and grief.  I thought I had grieved before; but real grief, I've found, only occurs when there is a true loss. 

My spirit doesn't do as well with loss. 

When words just aren't enough, people tend to rely on expression.  I'm no different, neither are you and neither is the psycho down the street.  So in an attempt to say what I couldn't quite 'say,' I laid curled up in my bed for hours and hours.  I cried until my eyes became swollen and red.  I was consumed by shock, guilt, remorse, and a pain that ran to the deepest part of me.  I was angry and dealing with feelings that I've never had to deal with. 

It sounds bad because it was.  And it still is. 

The beautiful thing, the thing that is causing me to write publicly right now, is that people picked up on what I was expressing.  They looked past my medium and found the message.  And then they reacted.  While we may disagree on the things like 'responsibility' and 'discretion', loss is cross-generational.

As my fifty-something year old mother was holding my trembling body, trying her hardest to convince me to take just "one more bite", my twenty-something friends were facebooking, texting and even calling, trying their hardest to say how sorry they were.  Meanwhile, my seventy-something year old grandmother was wishing she was here with me and writing some of the most heartfelt words I've ever read and putting it in the mail.  To say I was, and still am, very very touched is a large understatement. 

Effort, gratitude and gracefulness, it turns out, are cross-generational as well. 

The things that people say and do for you during the most tragic, defining moments of your lives are the things that you will take with you forever.  While we did not choose the time period that we are coming of age in, we can choose the way we interact with others each and every day.   

So there you have it.  When it comes to communication, the message is not always in the words but rather in the expression.  Content used to be the king, now it's context.  As I realize how many people have experienced a loss (tangible, personal or otherwise) during this recession, I wonder if I've been as graceful as I should've been. 

Someone once told me that writer's block is not your mind telling you that you don't have anything to say, but it's your mind fearing that what you say isn't going to be _______ enough.  Funny thing is, when you lose something, you feel like you shouldn't be afraid of anything. 

So I'm writing.

"Sometimes, I guess there just aren't enough rocks"--Forrest Gump

Stop Packing: Moving In May Disrupt Your Parent's Marriage

On the cusp of President Obama's inaguaration, I can't help but wonder if everything is changing, shouldn't our career advice about Gen Y be changing as well? Sure we'd like to think it's new-age and modern and "different," but perhaps the foundation was based on a relentlessly optimistic economic time and place.   Maybe it just doesn't fit anymore. 

Instead of creating posts to further reiterate past stances, perhaps it's time to see some object them.  Someone needs to acknowledge that the expiration date around generational ideologies is narrowing every day.  Even the ones that ooze cool and rebel against the system.  Is it still a good idea to be picky? Maybe, but only if your personality can handle it.  Is it still a good idea to job hop? Maybe, but only if you're ready for some criticism from those who may not understand the logic. 

In the end, mental effects are far greater than career ones. What it boils down to is this: Do you know yourself well enough to be brazen?

I dont believe career advice will ever be cut and dry again.  That being said, I've been thinking about the new-age advice about moving in with my parents.  It's been hailed as the new black, the thing to do for college grads, and a great way to build a rainy day fund.  But lately I've been thinking it may not be the greatest idea, especially since I read this article in the NY Times about what happens to a marriage after the children leave the nest.

The answer, my dear friends, is that the marriage actually improves.  In fact, the article states that having you to begin with is what started your parents on the road to unhappiness. 

Indeed, one of the more uncomfortable findings of the scientific study of marriage is the negative effect children can have on previously happy relationships. Despite the popular notion that children bring couples closer, several studies have shown that marital satisfaction and happiness typically plummet with the arrival of the first baby.

The article contiues to delve into the long-term results.  In other words, you moving back in seals the deal (emphasis mine):

In the empty-nest study, researchers compared the women’s marital happiness in their 40s, when many still had children at home; in their early 50s, when some had older children who had left home; and in their 60s, when virtually all had empty nests. At every point, the empty nesters scored higher on marital happiness than women with children still at home.

She notes that the lesson from the empty nest may be that parents need to work to carve out more stress-free time together. In the sample studied, it was only relationship satisfaction that improved when children left home. Over all, parents were just as happy with children at home as in the empty nest. (What happens when adult children move back home, their job prospects having evaporated in a brutal economy, has not been extensively studied.)

I wonder if moving back home is going to ruin my parents marriage?

I mean, in all honesty, I never really asked if I could.  I posted the idea on my blog and assumed my dad read it.  He reads all my posts and is quick to offer an opinion.  Since he didn't immediately refute it, I, again, assumed they wouldn't mind.  Yes there were a lot of assumptions, but I didn't feel guilty because I don't plan on staying long.  The guilt only set in when I realized that sometimes even the best laid plans have flaws. 

I would like to think that I add a bit of much needed energy around the house.  When I'm there I still run errands as a dutiful child should.  This weekend I went to Dunkin' Donuts for Mom when she was craving a lemon-filled snack.  I also ran to the grocery store for Dad when he felt like Sam Adams would be the only one to truly understand his woes.  Heck, I even bought them a brand new, highly coveted Wii Fit, not because they needed it, but because all the cool parents have one.

Now here's where the idea of parent/child needs gets interesting...  

Let me first say that my independence is something I've prided myself on.   My never-say-die mentality is recognized and appreciated by many.  Yet and still, when the engine light came on my car, I called Daddy.  When my pants needed a hem, I called Mommy.  I didn't call because I needed them specifically, but because they were there.  Surely if I was in Charlotte I would've called the appropriate professional and taken care of it  myself.  But I wasn't.  I was at home. 

Perhaps I've just missed the convenience of having someone with your best interests in mind within arms reach.  Perhaps there really is a co-dependence or, perhaps that's the way families who live, pray, and eat together are.  It's hard for me to tell anymore.  I wouldn't know anymore.  

So I asked my best friend over lunch how it feels to live at home. She is one who not only lives with her parents, but also works in the same building as her mother--for the same company.  If anyone would know about a potential parent overload it would be her.  She tells me it's not that bad.  She says there are times when she feels "trapped," but they are few and far between. 

"Trapped?" I reply,  "I am, what they call, a free spirit--I don't do well with trapped..."

Now I'm struggling.  I'm not anxious, but I'm not calm either.  It's like being in the midst of a storm and feeling afraid to look out the window because you don't know whether it's passed, or whether you're just in the eye.  Do I relax and adjust? Or do I brace myself and hold on for the rest? 

I refer back to the article for in search of some comfort.  Surely the writer would not just denounce children who move back in and the parents who accept them.  Surely the writer would keep searching for proof in order to prevent alienating such a large segment of readers. 

I soon find renewed faith in the journalist as I read this gem:

“Kids aren’t ruining parents’ lives,” Dr. Gorchoff said. “It’s just that they’re making it more difficult to have enjoyable interactions together.” 

What a relief.  Thanks Dr. G.  And thank you NY Times. I can deal with being difficult.

Now where's the research for the effects on the children? Sign me up for the case study!

Once Upon A Time, There Was a Pilot And a President-Elect...

 I wrote a post about the inspiration that comes from finding renewed faith in old things, and then I read about this.  All day I watched in awe and an overwhelming sense of patriotism took over.  Reading about saving lives is inspirational--the kind of inspirational that supercedes the post I wrote while sitting in my pj's eating cheesecake.  More importantly, the kind of inspirational that changes what you post on your blog. 

Anyway, I can imagine the level of responsibility the pilot must have felt to not only his passengers, but to their families.  And on top of that, to his family, his crew, his instructors and any person who has influenced his life in some way.  I know that feeling well, I think. 

That plane was headed to Charlotte.  I'm not sure why that matters to me so much, but it does.  Perhaps it's because the possibility that I could've known someone on the flight is that much greater.  Or perhaps it's because I love a great story.  Either way, the only word I can use to describe what I'm feeling is pride.  I'm proud of the pilot, and I'm proud of the journalists who decided that this, this is news. 

Not too long after the tears dried, I began reading again (go figure), and came across this beauty.  President-Elect Barack Obama has written a letter to his daughters. 

Dear Malia and Sasha,

I know that you've both had a lot of fun these last two years on the campaign trail, going to picnics and parades and state fairs, eating all sorts of junk food your mother and I probably shouldn't have let you have. But I also know that it hasn't always been easy for you and Mom, and that as excited as you both are about that new puppy, it doesn't make up for all the time we've been apart. I know how much I've missed these past two years, and today I want to tell you a little more about why I decided to take our family on this journey.

When I was a young man, I thought life was all about me-about how I'd make my way in the world, become successful, and get the things I want. But then the two of you came into my world with all your curiosity and mischief and those smiles that never fail to fill my heart and light up my day. And suddenly, all my big plans for myself didn't seem so important anymore. I soon found that the greatest joy in my life was the joy I saw in yours. And I realized that my own life wouldn't count for much unless I was able to ensure that you had every opportunity for happiness and fulfillment in yours. In the end, girls, that's why I ran for President: because of what I want for you and for every child in this nation.

I want all our children to go to schools worthy of their potential-schools that challenge them, inspire them, and instill in them a sense of wonder about the world around them. I want them to have the chance to go to college-even if their parents aren't rich. And I want them to get good jobs: jobs that pay well and give them benefits like health care, jobs that let them spend time with their own kids and retire with dignity.

I want us to push the boundaries of discovery so that you'll live to see new technologies and inventions that improve our lives and make our planet cleaner and safer. And I want us to push our own human boundaries to reach beyond the divides of race and region, gender and religion that keep us from seeing the best in each other.

Sometimes we have to send our young men and women into war and other dangerous situations to protect our country-but when we do, I want to make sure that it is only for a very good reason, that we try our best to settle our differences with others peacefully, and that we do everything possible to keep our servicemen and women safe. And I want every child to understand that the blessings these brave Americans fight for are not free-that with the great privilege of being a citizen of this nation comes great responsibility.

That was the lesson your grandmother tried to teach me when I was your age, reading me the opening lines of the Declaration of Independence and telling me about the men and women who marched for equality because they believed those words put to paper two centuries ago should mean something.

She helped me understand that America is great not because it is perfect but because it can always be made better-and that the unfinished work of perfecting our union falls to each of us. It's a charge we pass on to our children, coming closer with each new generation to what we know America should be.

I hope both of you will take up that work, righting the wrongs that you see and working to give others the chances you've had. Not just because you have an obligation to give something back to this country that has given our family so much-although you do have that obligation. But because you have an obligation to yourself. Because it is only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that you will realize your true potential.

These are the things I want for you-to grow up in a world with no limits on your dreams and no achievements beyond your reach, and to grow into compassionate, committed women who will help build that world. And I want every child to have the same chances to learn and dream and grow and thrive that you girls have. That's why I've taken our family on this great adventure.

I am so proud of both of you. I love you more than you can ever know. And I am grateful every day for your patience, poise, grace, and humor as we prepare to start our new life together in the White House. 
Love, Dad

Wow.  How powerful.  It's amazing how two completely different stories can bring light to the same themes and emotions.  While I would love to entertain you with musings on the benefits of revisiting vintage goals and dreams (my original post), I truly feel like this, this is the real news. 

Until next time...

Business Logic vs. Retail Logic

Ironically in the midst of wrapping up a tough day at work, I got an email from someone who's interested in starting a retail business.  She's brand new to the industry and was seeking advice.  When I read her email, my experience from this weekend popped into my head and I thought I'd share it.  Maybe it'll help. 

My store happens to have a Starbucks located within our building and it's usually the first stop or the last stop for many of our guests.  The traffic is comparable with free-standing Starbucks and the food safety regulations and legendary service standards are the exact same. 

The employees wear Starbucks uniforms, but they are ultimately employees of my company.  Starbucks does a teeny fraction of the millions of dollars that my store earns.  There's not a lot of surface value but as a company, we lease space to Starbucks because it's what our guests want.  It's good for our brand, despite it not being a major contributor to the business in the financial sense. 

Anyway, so the other night when I was shutting down the building, I walked past Starbucks approximately 10 minutes before they were supposed to close.  I noticed all of the pastries were covered up, the dishes were already cleaned, and the ingredients were previously in the dishes were poured into makeshift disposable containers lined up behind the counter.   

"Denise, did you close early?" I ask.

"Oh no! We're still open!"

"Well, why is everything covered up and put away?"

"Um, because there were no guests," Denise says.

"...Probably because everything was covered up and put away."

Point. Set. Match.

In all reality, Denise's decision made sense.  6Sigma and normal business logic will tell you that if there are no customers, there are no sales.  Teaching your team to assume that no one is interested during the last 10 minutes will save you payroll expenses.  Business logic is about making a profit.  In that case it's okay to go ahead and put things away, right?  Just 'hoping' for customers will ultimately cost you money, right? 

On the flip side, retail logic tells you that if there are no sales, it is your fault.  Retail logic requires that you believe in your product because that's the only way you can sell it.  You're always looking for the sale, even if it's just for 10 minutes.  Retail logic is about making a connection.  You have to learn to 'just know' that there is someone who is interested in what you're offering--your job revolves around finding that person.  Once you find them, find more like them.  Your job is never done.   

Retail gets such a bad rap because retail logic usually results in being broke or burnt out.  Inventory builds up bcause finding people proves to be tedious.  Being 'hopeful' about business is often seen as being stupid about business.  Most people aren't resilient enough to push through this part. 

The key is to know when to draw the line. The truth, however, is that being hopeful about new business (or any other part of life for that matter) is all about sacrifice.  You have to be willing to let go of bad attitudes, bad employees, bad customers and even bad friends in order to see retail for what it really is; a golden opportunity.  Sacrifice is a cornerstone for any service industry professional.  

Retail is an industry that is hyper-sensitive to its leaders' decision making discipline.  Every minute counts and timing is everything.  The right choices for your business are going to be dependent on a delicate mix of personality, tolerance, and patience.  Making the right choices up front will have a huge pay off at the end of the day.  Success in retail is a direct product of your way of thinking, so start thinking today. 

I'm not sure if this helps at all.  If that's the case, then just remember this: no matter what, the ultimate goal is not to fail.  But even if you do, surround yourself with people who love you anyway. 

Good luck!

2009 has some big shoes to fill...

I guess New Years is just not my holiday.  It doesn't really excite me.   

Throughout the year, I exude countless amounts of energy and skip an immeasurable amount of sleep to ensure that I live each day like it is my last, dance like no one is looking, and execute every other cliche that guarantees me a happy and fulfilled life.  Throughout the year, I watch the clock turn from 11:59 to 12:00 and there is no champagne toast, no ball drop, and no resolution writing. 

There is just me and my laptop. 

Or me and my book. 

Or me and my thoughts...  

Meanwhile, every single year, the masses sit and wait until the clock strikes midnight and the calendar flips to January, to decide they need to change.  Seriously, I just don't get it. 

I'm no negative Nelly so forgive the morbid undertone here, but God forbid something happens to you on December 31 at 11:59pm.  You leave this world only to add another brick to the road of good intentions that everyone talks about.  All because you were waiting.  And you, still bruised from falling off the proverbial wagon, do not ever get a chance to be the best version of yourself.

The only one happy about that ending is the wagon. 

However, for the sake of this blog post and remaining culturally relevant, I will indulge.

I did a lot of good things in 2008.  I started a blog, improved my writing, and gained some awesome friendships. I rocked a fierce haircut, read some amazing books, and learned life changing lessons from the most unexpected people.  I gained access to a network typically reserved for elite members of society.  My brother and I began building the relationship we should've had years ago.  My parents continued to be incredibly inspirational.  I was promoted into a new position, earned two raises and a bonus despite a looming recession. And I spearheaded the internship program that I was a part of just 2 years prior. 

I'm so proud of myself.    

Unfortunately, the buck doesn't stop there.  I spent weeks in turmoil after a test from a routine visit to the doctor came back abnormal.  I was poked and prodded and became familiar with hospital routes, you know, "just in case".  I suffered a series of panic attacks and bouts of exhaustion; one of which resulted in 7 stitches in my chin when I fainted and fell head first on a slab of concrete.  I've been rejected from dream jobs.  I have longed to be home.  I just found out my best friend is moving to another continent.  I've fallen in and out of love both with myself and with others.  I've probably come the closest to clinical depression that I hope to ever experience. 

That may sound terrible, but I've learned to be honest even when it doesn't feel good.  And in the spirit of being honest; when I look back at 2008, I can either panic, or, I can just type...

When it comes down to it, we've all been hurt and we've all been disappointed.  Some have had it harder than others.  My father, for example, has lived a hell of a life.  He has experienced a kind of pain and loss that many will never know.  It is the kind of pain that transcends hurt feelings and momentary embarrassments. 

It is the kind of pain that is there January 1st, December 31st and every day in between.  It will be there in '09, just like it was in '79 and '89.  It's a part of his life just like all the other parts of his life.  

But when you meet him, you don't pity him.  You're not weirded out by his story.  I'm truly fascinated with people like him.  Ironically, it was a person like him who helped me understand the notion behind New Years.

I was reading the UK version of Glamour and came across an article about Courtney Love.  Yep, THE Courtney Love.  In the article she talks about everything like plastic surgery, drug addiction, and anger.  She says she should be dead.  I immediately recognize her pain as it is the same kind of pain that raised me.  It quickly becomes an intriguing read. 

She makes a point at the beginning of the interview to let the journalist know that nothing is off limits.  I'm amazed as Courtney welcomes this stranger to delve into whatever aspect of her life that will create a great story.  So naturally, the reporter goes there. 

She asks Courtney about the suicide-death of her husband, Kurt Cobain.  The journalist wants to know how she's coping, and how her daughter deals with the untimely death of her father coupled with a difficult childhood.  Tears begin to stream down her face, and as she admits that she never properly grieved, Love whispers:

"People think it gets easier.  It doesn't.  It just gets further away."

And when put like that, I suppose I can understand the symbolism behind the holiday.  

I'd be lying to you if I said it didn't feel good to give 2008 an introspective kiss goodbye.  I welcome 2009 with open arms knowing it will probably not be much easier in the true sense of the word.  I welcome it with the understanding that life is full of ups and downs that do not operate on a calendar, even though that may be the easiest way to digest it.  I welcome it with the expectation that January 1 does not change me; only me changes me. 

But most of all, I welcome it prepared.  I owe that to 2008.     

Oprah's Weight Battle Will Do More For Women Then Sarah Palin Ever Did

Oprah is mad at herself. 

According to an article in the January issue of O provided early to the Associated Press, she wrote:

“I’m mad at myself. I’m embarrassed. I can’t believe that after all these years, all the things I know how to do, I’m still talking about my weight. I look at my thinner self and think, ‘How did I let this happen again?’”

I mean, really, it's OPRAH! It's been a big year for O, she won an election for goodness sakes.  I am a long-time, avid follower.  I own her DVDs.  I bought a subscription to her magazine even though she's the only one on the cover (ever.).  I saw the Color Purple and, although it's a talent I typically reserve for nights where I've indulged in the 'bubbly', I can recite many of the lines from memory with the *perfect* accent. LOL!

I tried Dr. Oz's Green Drink.  I went on the Debt Diet.  And to take it even further I have a picture of Oprah, as a little black girl from Mississippi, sandwiched in back of the Moleskine where I write my daily affirmations. I looked just like her when I was 5.  When folks were jocking Sarah Palin because of what she allegedly did 'for women everywhere', I went and read Oprah's Live Your Best Life because Sarah Palin didn't do squat for me, a little black girl from Houston...   

If anybody has the right to be critical of Oprah, it's me.  I am so vested in Oprah's success, because deep down inside it dictates my own.  I don't like it, but that's the way it works.  Personally, I stopped grading her and started just started supporting her ages ago.  It was easier that way.  Simply put, she won me over in a major way. 

However, I for one, am glad to see that Oprah is mad at herself.  While it is difficult to feel sympathy for someone who earns a 9-figure income in times like these, I can't help but acknowledge that Oprah moves markets.  Penelope says I should pay attention to her movements.  So I did.  And as a result, I sympathize. 

Sure, some will argue that her very public battle to be 'thin' will send a bad message.  Those people are short-sighted.  This is about something much bigger.  This about learning how to focus your emotions to the right place. 

From this moment on, many women will be learn that it's okay to be angry at themselves.  Sometimes, it's your fault.  Most times, it's your fault! This, my friends, is a great thing.

Here's what you can take away from O:

1. Anything worth achieving is worth focusing on DAILY--Weight, like many vices, does not just sneak up on you. You don't just wake up and have 30 extra pounds.  It is accumulated pound by pound.  Not noticing it, or refusing to acknowledge it, before pound #30 is the same problem that plagues people who have trouble saving money.  It represents the inability to appreciate baby steps; the refusal to see that very few things in life 'just happen'. 

Success in anything is the result of daily, deliberate, incremental steps.  I'm convinced that a heightened sensitivity to the way your actions effect the universe is something that comes with age.  And watching Oprah at 60 years of age, I'm also convinced that a heightened sensitivity to the way your actions effect the universe is no easy feat; even if you have a billion dollar brand that creates movements.

2.  Fear is very, very real--When people say they aren't scared of anything, I'm almost positive they don't know themselves well enough.  Oprah says her fear of her thyroid condition kept her from working out.  Even with all of her fame and all of her access to the best of any and everything, Oprah stood afraid literally paralyzed by her fear.  Anchoring awareness in your fear will inevitably help you in the long run.  I'm telling you, it's worth confronting the notion of 'success' to ask: what am I really afraid of?

3. Transparency is a dish best served early--When you have an active group of followers, it's important to be honest with your struggles and keep us updated before the shit hits the proverbial fan.  If we're a part of your tribe, when you win, we should all win.  And on the flip-side, when you're struggling, we should know why you've been trippin' lately. 

All through life we are praised for being first, but in this context, we're often criticized; labeled as attention-seekers.  There really isn't really a short-term benefit to being the first to be brutally honest.  I believe that it is this expectation of reward, and the later disappointment, that thwarts people from being candid.  Real, candid honesty requires a trust in karma and goodwill.  At the end of the day, you have to just 'know' that we'll still be here when you come out of it.  Those that aren't, just aren't.  Those that are, should be cherished. 

4.  Keep it simple--I love the way she chose to say it.  First, it's in print (my chosen medium).  By not speaking it (her chosen medium), she is allowing her tone, intent and state of mind to be dictated by the reader.  That's a raw position to be in.  Then, she just said it. "I'm mad at myself."  Point blank. Man Down. 10-4, Over.

Those 4 words carry more weight than anything else.  The absence of cliches and calculated fillers like, "it's just that..." and "maybe because of..." made her message resonate with me.  Right on, girl.  If you can't get mad at yourself, you can forget getting better.  The way I see it, someone needs to be disappointed when you fail to practice what you preach, and usually, it ain't gonna to be the choir...

Marinate on that.

So I leave you with one of my favorite quotes from The Color Purple, and I suppose I stand corrected: if anybody has the right to be critical of Oprah, it's Oprah: 

Shug: More than anything God love admiration.
Celie: You saying God is vain? 
Shug: No, not vain, just wanting to share a good thing. I think it pisses God off when you walk by the color purple in a field and don't notice it

The Measure Of A Leader

Words like 'I'm sorry' or 'forgive me' don't come easily for most. 

Today, less than two weeks before Christmas, I fired a woman.  Last week, when she told me that I reminded her of her daughter, I smiled.  This week, when I told her she was no longer employed with us, I said "I'm sorry."

A long time ago, someone in HR had a spot to fill.  This woman came in looking for something part-time to keep her busy during the day.  The HR hired her with no qualms and put her in the open spot.  Sink or swim.  Everyday she came in and gave her personal best.  She was in a key position so whenever we would have corporate visits, she would always be sure to wear a shirt with a collar.  I liked seeing that kind of effort. 

Unfortunately, the role wasn't a good match for her.  Normal tasks were a challenge and she struggled with the level of accountability that came with the job.  She started sinking fast.   

When I met with her a month ago and expressed my concerns about her performance, she said she understood and that she would try harder.  I observed her for the next few weeks and saw her trying to figure out why her best just wasn't good enough.  It made me kind of sad in a way that was all too familiar. 

I was proud when she stopped blaming herself for not being 'good enough' and started to see the disconnect between what she was good at and what the position required.  I saw her humbled and reaching out to other people for help.  I liked seeing that kind of effort.

Today, as she shook my hand and said, "thank you for the experience," I told her that I wished things could've been different from the very beginning.  I truly do.       

First jobs are often meant to be a headline story in our lives.  They are mentioned in the stories you tell your children right after you mention how you walked 5 miles in snow to cut firewood and kill bears.  Ironically, this wasn't her first job, or even her second.  At 60-something years old, this was probably her last job.  Instead of being a headline in her life, it will be the story that her children tell their children.  It will be what they vow to not do--grow old, retire, work again, work hard, only to be let go.       

The measure of a leader is discovered in many different ways, but ultimately, it is an innate understanding of psychology that separates good from great.  Knowing how to trust in my sense of what is right, learning how to deliver difficult messages, and reacting to unplanned situations have proved to be invaluable throughout my career. There has to be an appreciation of angst, without actually having the angst. 

So I guess the moral of this story is in the beginning, there was desperation, and in the end, there is still desperation.  One got her hired and the other got her fired.  

I've always found it amazing that two people can experience the same thing and have completely different reactions.  For this reason alone, I believe that there are certain emotions worth practicing because you don't get a second chance with most people or most situations.  Desperation is a key example. 

Today I fired a woman.

Blogging Was Easy Until My Blog Came Up At The Dinner Table

I read this article about beauty today. In it, the author parallels "pretty" and "beautiful".  The author says that "prettiness is the enemy of beauty--the blandness and acceptability of pretty cancels out beauty's greatness, grandeur and presence."  While there is acceptance in pretty, there is power in beauty. 

Beauty isn't traditional.  It isn't symmetrical and it darn sure doesn't always make sense.  Frances Bacon, a 16th century philosopher, once said that that "there is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion."  Despite the difference in era, this concept of beauty seems particularly right for now. 

"We crave beauty because of it's rarity", Emma Summerton says.  She goes on to say how notions of beauty are entirely immediate and personal.  "Beauty", she says, "is directly related a moment and a reaction to something."

"It's like pain.  What matters is the experience of it in the here and now." 

Believe it or not, I have been writing. It is writing that is unapologetically honest.  I've written about what it's like to not have a holiday every year.  I've written about pride, ownership, and entitlement.  I've written about love and how it's not all you need in life.  And I've written about the notion of not being able to choose who you fall in love with.  I'm not done yet.   

I've written about how something must be wrong with me because some of the best things in my life are not, as previously promised, free.  In fact, some of the best things in my life are what are preventing me from quitting my job.  Catch 22, anyone?     

None of it is pretty.  But I think it's beautiful prose.  And in the spirit of being nonsensical, I want to shout it from the rooftops.   

Unfortunately I've been scared to publish my writing ever since my blog started coming up at the dinner table. 

First it was in passing.  My dad was mingling with a group and someone pulled it up on their blackberry.  I felt a little exposed, a tad misunderstood, but at the end of the day, I got over it.  Then Shannel and I were enjoying pancakes when she told me she read my blog and wanted to start one of her own.  I chewed my bacon and spit out some encouragement.  I think people should be able to do whatever they want to do. 

Most recently, I went to homecoming at my beloved alma mater and was reunited with my girlfriends.  While in the midst of a collective Ya-Ya, a few admitted that they too had read my blog and sometimes worried about me.  Sigh.  But again, at the end of the day I got over it.      

I've found that dinner table dialogue is oft indicative of a turning point in my life.  When I wanted to move 400 miles away from home as a teenager, we talked about it at the dinner table.  My parents let me go and it changed my life--I learned to be responsible. 

I remember when I recognized the exact moment my name started coming up at dinner tables as a manager.  All of a sudden, spouses 'knew' me, kids 'knew' me, and everything I did or said was open to their interpretation.  My sense of purpose had transformed from a job to a duty.  I was affecting other people's lives and in turn, it changed my own.  I learned how to be thoughtful.     

Being the subject of dinner table dialogue makes you focus on how you're accepted instead of just whether you're accepted.  The 'how' is life changing, folks.  Ultimately, you learn how to be grateful. 

In theory, everyone has their own life litmus test.  It's been said that Madonna uses Frida Kahlo's My Birth as her litmus test.  She uses peoples' reactions to the painting to determine whether she will or will not get along with them.  It's that special to her. 

Someday, someone will read my blog and use it as a test for me.  They will determine whether they will or will not accept me simply based on my words.  It may be a soul-mate.  It may be an employer.  It may be someone who has the capability to change my life.  If I am misunderstood, I wonder if I will just get over it.   

My blog is at the point where it needs structure.  Adding a focus will help me to post regularly and fine-tune my writing skills.  My blog needs a goal.  But I feel like I need to decide whether this blog was a creative decision or a business one, and I'm struggling with the either/or.  The struggle ain't pretty.

Irreverent mixes have always been appealing to me.  From leather and lace to business and blogging, for me, irreverent mixes are beautiful.  Beauty is some strong stuff and keeping this blog beautiful may be the direction I take.  Everything has a cost.   

In the meantime, thanks for reading.  Tonight I talked about you at my dinner table...

Confidence is about doing, just as much as it is about believing...

Thursday I had a store visit from a team of executives.  Their mission was to visit all 11 stores in our market to determine who was "ready" for what appears will be a tumultuous 4th quarter.  In order to add structure to such a vague concept, they created a checklist of items they would be looking for.  It noted items like cleanliness, merchandising, replenishment, and the like.  Nothing special, just regular stuff.  They sent it out weeks in advance and included information regarding the point system they would be using.  Nothing special, just regular stuff.

Despite their smiles, they presented themselves in a manner that said they were the kind of people who are important enough to be lied to on a regular basis.  I'm sure they hate that.  They had an aura that meant business and title indicative of the same thing.  I'm sure they love that.  I tucked away my notes in my pocket then went to extend my hand to greet one of the guys and immediately noticed the graffiti all over it. 

"What's that?" he asked.  "Oh, just my to do list" I replied sheepishly, "I ran out of paper."

And led by either nervousness or embarrassment, I continued to babble on about my bad habit.  I stopped myself right after I droned on about the types of pens I use and how that new-age foamy soap in our bathrooms doesn't get it off so I have to bring my own. 

I stared at him as he laughed at me.  All by himself. 

He must've felt my eye contact because then he told me that he used to do the same thing in college.  I didn't know if he meant write on his hand or babble in front of important people and I kept right on staring. 

"But back then I used a BIC, and we all shared the same soap."  Then I knew.  And this time we laughed togetherr. 

I asked him, "well why'd you stop?"

"Because as I got older, the tests changed.  Now I don't need to do all that to pass 'em"

Yep.  And just like that, he smirked as if he had just now realized how accomplished he was and began walking my checklist.  I'm so proud to say that my department and the entire store received top honors.  However, when all was said and done and I asked my boss how we did, his response threw me off. 

"We did well" he said, "but I'm not going to focus on the scoring because that'll mess with people's minds". 

I already knew how we ranked, but I struggled with him not being able to say it. I challenged his logic and wondered aloud why the powers that be would develop a point system if they were not planning to share the individual results.  I explained the difference between healthy competition and the other kind.  Then I told him that not sharing the results would prove to mess with my mind more than sharing them ever could.  Hence, this paragraph.

So he told me. "Ok. You were number one in the district " 

"I already knew that.  Thank you."

Fast forward to today.  I had a great conversation with someone about a position where the pay is 100% commission.  It's a product I believe in, a reputable company, and a growing market.  All day I've been juggling with the idea of working in a position where the only guaranteed income is directly related to the amount of time and energy you put into it. 

I'm confident that my skill sets are transferable and that I can make money, but I worry that my lifestyle choices are not as transferable and that it won't be enough money.  I suppose this is the same anxiety that's found in dusty business plans and woulda coulda shoulda's.  

Then Monnie said that "Having the confidence is a great thing, but having confidence without being able to follow through signifies a lack of something."

Then Sean and Lauren reminded me that I work hard every single day, and if I continue to work hard every single day this could be a huge opportunity.  Then my Daddy said even if I don't make a whole lot of money, I have what the old folks call 'goodwill'.  He says I could live a year off goodwill alone. 

"I already knew that.  Thank you."  

I love the people in my life who think I'm capable of any and everything.  But the fact of the matter is that we can convince ourselves all day long that we can do whatever we want to do because we haven't tried it yet.  Monnie says it's easy to feel smug when you haven't taken a chance.  As many chances as I've taken in my career, I've never taken one of this magnitude.     

I once read that you should never let a good crisis go to waste.  Seemingly tough situations are often used as a gauge for how you will handle yourself in other aspects of your life.  Take New York for instance, apparently if you can make it there in business, you can make it anywhere.  The same could be said for law school (Hey Ciji!), real estate, and in this case, commission based sales during a recession.  

I can't help but get giddy about the amount of learning that could take place in an environment where pre-established checklists and point systems don't dictate my success or "readiness" for increased business.  

Perhaps this is just me romanticizing work again, or perhaps this is just me getting tired of lugging bottles of soap to work.  Cheers to graffiti-free hands.