NaNoWriMo Returns *eek*

It would seem that I've done a horrific job of maintaining my blog-o-sphere this past month.  I have a myriad of excuses:  being pregnant makes me worthless after 8 pm, not allowing time to write; I've started a few different posts without being able to get them edited to the point where I feel satisfied posting them online; my daughter's second birthday happened and I had to plan the family get together; blah, blah, blah.

But in two days, this magical thing happens every year where people all over the world dedicate themselves to writing 50,000 words in 30 days... all while knowing they're obligated to family gatherings (at least in the US) and stuffing themselves with entirely too much food and then shopping at ridiculous hours to get half way decent deals on Christmas presents for part of a week.

I've taken this monumentally silly task on twice before, and I've never met the end goal.  So here I am, attempting it again, but I'm going to be realistic about probably not finishing my word count.  The first novel I tried, I got about 36k words in and my computer crashed... and I stupidly had no back up.  Lesson learned.  The second attempt, I simply got distracted didn't write enough early on, and decided it was too much to catch up on to continue.  At least that draft I still have.

So I've spent the past couple weeks jotting down ideas in my head, a basic plot outline, character traits, etc. in hopes that I can shut down the editor in me for 30 days and just write.  Because I'm terrible about getting in my own way.  Instead of my usual ranting about life and what makes me crazy about others, I'll be attempting to share a few excerpts I find especially amusing or bits I struggle with, as I mentally try to work my way through to the next bit.

1667 words a day is a lot for anyone.  I find it especially daunting because mostly I'm my own worst critic.  But there's no time like the present to get over myself and take advantage of an opportunity to work toward something I want.  I'm sure some of my special brand of insanity will rear its ugly head for your entertainment along the way.  I probably won't be sorry if I snap at someone... but I'll blame it on the pregnancy hormones and sleep deprivation.

Two days to go!  Well, a day and a half now.  But still... WEE!!!

The Agony of Defeat

That's what it felt like this morning when I sent off an email at 6:30 am saying I wouldn't be coming into work because I was sick.  I've been cursing pollen and allergies for the past 3 days now, depriving me of my sense of smell, the ability to taste, the seemingly simple task of being in a quiet room and not coughing so profusely that it makes everyone else uncomfortable, sleep, and more.  This morning I chose to stop ignoring it and let it win.  I'd stay home, try to rest, and try to get better instead of continuing to fight through it like the stubborn mule that I am.

But it feels like I've been defeated.  Like I should be able to push through for one more day to finally turn that corner.  Like if I'd only stuffed just a little more saline up my nose, it'd break everything up, and I could get back to the business of getting everything done.  And just maybe, if I'd taken the time to take care of myself that first day, I'd feel fine right now and wouldn't have put myself through being miserable for 3 days before I slowed myself down enough to really fix it.

The entire day I've struggled to lounge around and do nothing.  I was able to take a short nap this morning, but it didn't last long.  I started cleaning until dusting induced a sneezing fit.  I looked into my closet and kept thinking it'd be a great time to tear everything out and reorganize it to minimize junk.  Don't even get me started on how badly I want to rearrange things in my daughter's room to make it all look just a little bit better.  What the hell is wrong with me?

Clearly, that question goes far beyond this one piece of my flawed yet endearing persona.  But I am genuinely beginning to wonder why I can't let myself unwind... ever.  Everything has some end goal in mind.  Everything is a step to completing something else.  Everything needs to be some sort of accomplishment and anything that doesn't fit into that little frame is just stuff in the way.

Common sense would tell you that taking a break to rest when you're sick is the smart thing to do.  In my twisted little brain, it's an inconvenience; an irritant that needs to be ignored so I can keep getting things done.  Even now, I'm sitting here writing instead of being sensible by trying to get more sleep.  Someone, seriously, stop me.  I'm completely out of control.

The Problem with the Squeaky Wheel

This is the face I'll make when I have my nervous breakdown.

Ah, yes.  That tired yet oft used reference that the squeaky wheel gets the grease.  Perhaps you've heard it a time or two?  If not, please tell me what part of the world you live in because I want to move there immediately.  I'm serious.  Tell me right now.  I will start packing.

It's a cliche that continues to see relevance because it's the approach many people still take.  The biggest complainers, the employees who constantly halt innovative ideas because they don't like change, the elderly person who gripes the most about how terrible the Jell-O is at the nursing home, the child who throws the embarrassing tempter tantrum in public because you said they couldn't have yet another toy they'll play with for 5 minutes then discard--they ALL get more attention than their silent counterparts who simply go about their business or do what they're asked.  Do people giving them the attention like them better for it?  Probably not, but guess what--they're still winning.  Even negative attention is still attention.

Therefore, as one of those fed up functioning wheels--tired of working harder for less grease--the following is my squeak filled soap box rant.  This is my screaming into a pillow when no one's around, hitting a punching bag until my knuckles bleed in sheer frustration, time to try out how the other guys do it to see if it really works, full blown bitch fest.  Tomorrow, I'll go right back to quietly doing what needs to be done and not constantly demand attention for it because it's just who I am.  For now, the irony of calling out the over greased wheel by taking their approach to do is not lost on me.  I'm going to relish in it for just a moment.

Do you know what's wrong with focusing most or all of one's attention on the problems?  The things and people that are going/doing well go unacknowledged and over time lose their motivation to keep everything running smoothly.  The people that work hard without needing a cattle prod shock to the ass see the how those who get prodded are the ones really getting the undeserved rewards.  The people that don't complain end up being forced to carry the weight of the complainer because it's a "teamwork" situation and the non-complainer feels some sort of obligation to turn in their best work where the complainer constantly makes excuses not to do something.  When the boss gives the complainer a raise to shut them up (doesn't work, by the way), the non-complainer begins to learn that advancement comes through excuses instead of the stated desired results.

So someone, please, explain to me in a logical manner with valid supporting points as to why this phrase such a widely accepted practice.  Someone convince me that it's actually better for mankind to be full of people who never seem to get anything done but are quickest to blame it on something they're not given as a reward before they ever even accomplish anything.  Explain to me how expecting to put in hard work first and then be recognized for it is actually foolish and uninspiring to others.

The way I see it from the functioning wheel angle, rewarding the squeaky one is only setting up for the entire car/wagon/plane/trailer/whatever for complete failure.  Whether you're intending to or not, you're rewarding the bad behavior and ultimately telling everyone that despite what you may say, you really WANT people to chronically complain and never accomplish anything.  You WANT people to constantly make excuses.  You WANT people to expect a carrot without the stick before they make even the smallest effort.  You WANT to be the only person to ever "fix" anything.

Yeah, and I'm the crazy person.  Last time I checked, we didn't land on the moon because someone complained it into reality.  GE didn't go from being Thomas Edison's little light bulb company to one of the largest conglomerates in the world by complaining about competition.  Are you getting it yet, because I can keep going.  Someone somewhere had to do more than was expected of them, be more dedicated than was fair to ask, and give more than what they thought they might receive in return.

And to end my selfish little "look at me!" tirade on a somewhat useful note, some complaints are valid.  If one person had the ability to think of every possible scenario to determine the best outcome for everyone involved, none of this would matter.  But each of us needs to listen to complaints and ask one important question when they've stopped talking--what are you going to do to fix it?  How would you make that problem go away? What ideas do you have that would improve what you don't currently like, and how would it benefit not only yourself, but others?  But then you have give them a legitimate shot at doing it.

Get away from the whiners--their purpose in life is to bring everyone else down to their level.  Then nothing happens.  And they'll complain about it.  And that's when I think I'm only screaming in my head in frustration but then realize every one's staring at me because I'm doing it for real.  Nobody wants that.

I Like Sports and I Don't Care Who Knows

I have hobbies that don't fall under what many consider traditional female interests.  I didn't get involved with them to make some moral gender statement.  I'm not trying to be some Alice Paul and make a broad statement that spits in the face of injustice and unfairness across the world.  I happened to grow up around some unconventional things, and I just happened to find them interesting.  I think the unconventional makes a person more intriguing with unique ideas and perspectives to offer. 

But it still irks me when the reactions I get are those of complete shock, as if it's insane for me to like anything beyond cooking, cleaning, and makeup.  It's almost as though my hobbies need to be mutually exclusive and can't possibly meld together in any form.  And yes, you may not see how pretty handbags and fire arms can co-mingle, but I do and that's what matters.

I started off justifying each of my "non-traditional" interests and deleted it all upon further review.  I don't need to prove I know anything about these things--I don't really care if I get your approval.  The point I want to focus on is that it shouldn't be so shocking for me to say, "I follow pro football" and have someone else try to decipher whether or not I mean it.

Maybe it's too many years of women feigning interest in "man things" to impress their boyfriends or to get more attention from a group of them (and if you're a chick who does that, STOP IT).  Maybe we're not as evolved as we think we are and still hold fast onto gender roles, despite the statistics that say those days are over.  Maybe it's just impossible to believe someone could possibly know anything about a sport/hobby that you almost never see the opposite gender openly participate.

Whatever the excuse, it's growing increasingly frustrating.  I want to enjoy my hobbies, not feel like I have to justify my spot at the table.  And just because I'm watching an F1 race, shhh-ing you so I don't miss a radio transmission, don't assume I won't go shoe shopping immediately after the race.  I promise I'll refrain from any preconceived notions about you in return.

This weekend is jammed packed with fun, too.  An Italian car show, the F1 race in Monza, A&M vs Florida, and the highly anticipated return of Peyton Manning taking on the Steel Curtain.  Personally, I hope he's really angry and takes it out on everyone.  One more month and I can start adding hockey back into the mix.  Yay!

I don't care how old this is, it always makes me laugh.  And everyone deserves to laugh on a Friday.

Searching for that Dream Job?

I need to find my dream job.  The one with flexible hours and an option to work from home some, lots of autonomy, challenges me to grow and develop personally and professionally, doesn't waste time on pointless meetings, pays REALLY well, and everyone immediately notices the greatness I bring to the table so they ask my opinion on strategy and the future direction of the company.  Oh, and it needs to align with my personal and political views so I can feel like I'm changing the world through my career.  That job has to be out there, and it has to be just waiting for me to show up and start being the rock star that I am, right?

I don't need anyone to look over my resume to make sure it works--my resume speaks for itself.  I've done impressive things in college so far and I can do many more.  Nevermind I haven't actually been employed yet or ever bothered with an internship.  I'll just upload it to the Internet Cosmos and wait for the offers to come pouring in.  I don't need to waste my time with networking--none of those people could possibly teach me something I don't already know and certainly none of them are CEOs looking for their successor.  This stuff should all just fall right into my lap.

What do you mean I haven't demonstrated to you all these bold claims?  What do you mean, you want proof that I'll fulfill my commitments before you're willing to give me a shot at that amazing job I know I deserve now?  What do you mean I need to curb my attitude?  What do you mean I need to keep my mouth shut and learn something?  I went to college, after all.  What do you mean I need to start off with this low profile, grunt work that no one else wants to do?  What do you mean I need to EARN it?

I'm here to make my mark on the world and you should feel privileged I want to do it within your company.  I could just as easily go out on my own and make millions, I just want the stability of a good paycheck, social interaction with coworkers, and the safety net of being with a company that's not going to close up tomorrow.  I mean, I can't have all my accomplishments and genius go to waste.

Yeah, thanks for all that parents, coaches, and teachers who bought into the ridiculous crap about making sure kids never feel bad about not winning or doing well while growing up.  Somehwere along the way, these no keeping score, never grade in red, never tell them no ingrates became "adults" and now they don't understand the good life isn't just handed to you.

I hope they live with you well into their 30s and keep you from being able to retire.

The Mythical Perfect Childhood

I spent most of my blogging time last week obsessing about one post.  And it's still not up.  There is a reason for that--I wrote it, edited it, asked my husband to read it to give me some feedback, edited again, and sat on it.  Over the weekend, I had a bit of an epiphany--this post I was so concerned about, was written with the completely wrong approach.  I couldn't change it enough so that I didn't think it didn't come across as whiny.

This trait aggravates me greatly, and I'd hate to have my writing perpetuate it unless it's absolutely necessary.  I'll probably still post it at some point, but it's going to need a lot of rewriting before it's done.  It is very personal, it is a large piece of my motivation, even obsessive drive to write.  But if I have even one person say to me, "Oh you poor thing, that must have been so hard for you" I'll hate myself for it.

It did make me start to wonder, however, we all have "issues" from childhood--why in the world do we tend to spend so much time dwelling on them?  Why do we tend to focus on how we were wronged in our minds instead of taking into consideration how lucky we really had/have it?  Why is there a seemingly eternal struggle for creating or defining that "perfect childhood" and then comparing all the ways we were denied that experience?

Even the most noble of intentions can go horribly wrong; just ask Macbeth.  No matter how much you think your kids are like you, they're going to be different in many regards and how you would handle something is going to wind up upsetting them in some way.  Despite the well meaning actions of a parent, while possibly "traumatic" at the time, the kid usually grows up and starts to understand their parents better as people allowing us to see why they did what they did.  We're still allowed to disagree with it, but if you're holding on to some deeply embedded resentment because your mom wouldn't let you go on that date with the guy with 8 tattoos and a nose ring in high school, it's probably time to move on.

These are just life lessons that you can learn and become a stronger person or ignore them so you can continue to have that pity party.  The problem with the latter is that eventually, you're the only one left at that party.  After all, you heard your mother say countless times, there are starving children in Africa while you are complaining about meatloaf and not wanting to eat all your vegetables.

Reading myself complain about my childhood seemed so ridiculous after I stepped back from the post for a day.  I never had to learn how to cook meth after school and balance that with getting my homework done to escape the same future.  I never got left in a 3rd world country where I was either sold into human trafficking or as a child soldier.  I never had a family member do anything inappropriate to me that would scar me for life.  I could go on and on.

The bottom line is, I'm (for the most part) a responsible adult, I make enough to provide for my family, I occasionally have fun and act silly, and I generally like who I've become.  I wouldn't be who I am today if it weren't for my experiences as a child and on up through yesterday.  There's no such thing as "perfect" but I certainly can have what works best for me. 

Hopefully, I'll be able to do the same for my daughter and keep her from becoming a serial killer when she grows up.  She can be mad at me when I embarrass her as a teenager or not let her have THE outfit that all the other girl's moms said was okay because I think it looks like a $2 hooker dress.  She'll learn to get over it because I had her best interests in mind when she didn't.

I'm Long Winded

I would probably make a terrible professional blogger because I can't seem to keep things short and sweet.  I go off on tangents, get too descriptive, and I write like my brain thinks--bordering on just plain crazy.  Probably explains why I've always been drawn to writing novels.  I like making sure I can see just what I imagine as I read my writing, I like to plant those critical tiny details that make a story more real or inviting.

I can't think of an assignment or a contest I've entered where I haven't run up against the word limit.  I always have to cut things down.  And I'm glad I do because I can decide which details are most important and which ones after a 12th look are really superfulous.  Blogging requires learning to exercise self restraint.

This, however, does not translate well to blogging.  I've been reading up on how to make mine better, more interesting,  and how to improve overall and the one thing that's glaring in my eager little face is I write far too much.  Which is quite ironic given that I'm not big on talking.  I can spill thousands of words onto a page without trying, but when it comes to conversation, I'm usually the one listening.  I rather like this contradiction about myself.

So, in honor of Friday or my very merry unbirthday, I'm going to keep this one short.  Ha!  Take that contradiction!  I shall learn to temper you yet!  Probably not, but at least I'll try.

What Does a Good Night's Sleep Feel Like?

Because I honestly can't remember the last time I had one.  I'm not really complaining (okay, maybe a little or a lot) but I'm starting to wonder if this pipe dream is even possible or are we just lying to the rest of the world when we tell them we woke up completely refreshed and ready to tackle the day.  Clearly it's a problem in America, or I wouldn't see at least one article a week focusing on the subject when I'm not really seeking them out.

So let's commiserate instead of lie to one another, if only for a day.  These are just some of the things that contribute to my overall crankiness and general disdain for almost the entire human population:

I cannot turn my brain off at night.  I've tried all the tricks I've heard about or been told firsthand.  Imagine a clear blue sky and you'll pass right out.  After a  week of trying I gave up.  Avoid TV, cell phone, and computer for at least an hour before going to bed--I didn't get to sleep any faster AND I was bored.  Don't read books in bed--at least two books behind on my "want to read" list and still takes me at least 30 minutes to crash.  Warm milk?  That's just gross.  Who actually likes the way that tastes?  Avoid caffeine after 2 pm?  I really think that kept me up longer.  Go to bed and get up at the same time every day?  Is that even possible as a parent?  The list goes on and on.

I stress about work, I stress about trying to fit in going to the gym or at least getting some exercise (and I'm failing miserably at it currently).  What I didn't get done that day that I need to make sure I finish tomorrow; taking care of home repairs that have been put off; monthly finances, am I spending enough time with my daughter; with my husband; the amount of time wasted commuting and what I could be doing with it; again the reasons never seem to end.

My husband also tells me that I rarely sleep "well."  I toss and turn, groan, and generally give off the impression that I'm not comfortable or getting quality sleep when I am out.  That can't be helping.  Awesome.

Then, if I manage to get to sleep before 11, I have dreams that would probably make Freud do dirty things to himself in the corner of his office in shame.  Seriously, just this weekend there was one with a zombie apocalypse theme where I was the one who locked all the people who might have been exposed in a room to prevent the spread.  Someone else let them out, so it became this violent survival dream.  The other one I gave birth to a baby girl in a matter of minutes but then I had to get up and immediately walk around with a nurse and when I got back, the baby was a boy and my brother in law had swaddled him up and put him in a tub of shallow water to let him nap.  These weird ass dreams happen 2-3 times a week and they tend to wake me up and I can't go back to sleep.  They vary from dinosaurs setting up toll booths and eating the cars that don't pay up to a version of American History X's infamous curb scene.  They disturb me and I can't help but wonder why they're so twisted or if I need to see a professional about them.

Then let's add to the mix, just for fun, an almost two year old daughter.  Who ever came up with the term "slept like a baby" as a good thing is a damn liar and they owe me an apology. We go through our little transition periods when something changes, and I expect those.  But the poor kid ended up with my allergies, and the slightest change in weather usually means she wakes up once a twice a night coughing or sneezing.  Even if my awesome husband is the one who goes in to check on her, I'm still awake and again fighting my brain to shut the hell up.  Oh, and she does NOT sleep in.  Weekends are amazing if she sleeps until 7 before wanting breakfast.

Finally, if I didn't punish myself enough already, I get up between 5:15 and 5:30 in the morning.  I do this to make sure I can be at work by 8:00.  I personally find this completely insane but if I don't leave the house by 6:50 in the mornings, dropping off the kid at day care and cursing traffic would take an hour and a half instead of 45.  We moved to the burbs for the good schools and learned to deal with the cookie cutter houses with next to no individuality but for some reason our jobs think it's ridiculous to move with us.  How selfish.

Naps are out of the question--I've tried to take them on purpose and I feel worse than I did before I went to sleep.  They still happen sometimes on accident, with the same result. 

Yes, I know about half of this (or more) is self inflicted and part of my own crazy personality.  But I'm also convinced that people who say they're rested most of the time are lying.  And if they're not, I kind of want to punch them in the face.  So join in my Monday morning gripe-fest.  Make me feel a little less ridiculous so I know I'm not the only one in search of just one night of good sleep... if it even exists.  Tomorrow I'll go back to lying to myself when I say, "Sleep is over rated."

If You're an Ass Kisser, I Won't Like You

Today, I throw a monkey wrench in my whole customer service thing: here's where I tell you how much I loathe ass kissing.  To me there's a difference between good service and ass kissing, and my take on what those differences entail is, of course, very specific and thought out.  Your version will likely be different or you may be someone who prefers to back your rear up on a set of puckered lips.  If you're that person, you'll probably want to stop reading right now.

Since I've already gone over what good service is to me, there's no sense in spinning that wheel again.  Check it out if you haven't already--it will probably add to what I'm about to say.

Ass kissers are trying to overcompensate for the fact that all they're really trying to do is getting something out of you.  They're not trying to build a long term business or personal relationship--they see being associated with you as a way to move up in the world or weasel their way in to something they couldn't otherwise.  They're not approaching the exchange as a give and take based on trust and mutual respect--ass kissers are trying to float your ego high enough in hopes you won't notice they're taking something from you without reciprocity.

No one's a perfect judge of character, and as confident I am in my abilities to read most people I'm positive I've been wrong before.  This isn't an ego trip for me--I just genuinely dislike being showered with attention I can tell is completely fake.  It's a set up and they're trying to create a false sense of trust. I find manipulative dishonesty extremely insulting to one's intelligence.

It's the car salesman that won't talk to a woman unless a guy is there with her.  It's the restaurant manager or waiter that makes some big production about a "special" something that really costs them nothing in hopes of a 30% tip on a nice dinner.  It's the retail sales person that completely ignores you when you indicate the need for help until you flash a platinum card.  It's the sales person or account manager that you can never get a hold of once they got that initial sale after promising to follow up regularly or be hands on during the transition.  The examples are abundant.

And if you are a person who enjoys this kind of attention... why?  Are you so insecure that you need validation of your importance through false sincerity?  Do you enjoy having people bow down and serve you to acknowledge that you are a higher class of person?  Are you so lonely that you will take any kind of attention, even if it's fleeting?  Is ass kissing just how you define good service?  Is there some sort of psychological scar that makes you want to chase those kind of people and "fix" them?

I hold honesty and being genuine in high regard, so it really is difficult for me to see the other side of this coin.  But there are so many good people in the world, I just don't see the point in wasting time with the sleazeballs.  Why bother wondering if/when they're going to turn on you for a better deal?  Hell, why encourage bad behavior by enabling them?  Certainly these ass kissers wouldn't stick to it if it didn't work on enough people to make worth their while.

A Good Look in the Mirror

Women have this weird, slightly creepy habit of staring at themselves in the mirror for extended periods of time, categorizing their faults, finding new wrinkles that have appeared since their last stare session, and generally focusing on their flaws to assess what can be improved and what they need to learn to like or live with.  As a very atypical woman, even I do it.  I think it's ingrained in our genetic code.  I'm quite sure that men find this practice a little bit insane... and I don't disagree.  But it happens anyway.  Go ahead, judge me.

It's not like I can magically turn back the clock to be 22 again and wrinkle free.  I currently find plastic surgery too extreme to be a viable option, and yet I find myself staring in that mirror contemplating what can be improved upon, what I might be stressing over that's not really worth the effort, and what is a permanent change that I need to learn to accept.  What the hell is going on with my skin?  Why do I look like a teenager going through puberty this week?  Is that a gray hair?  Ugh.  With my hair in front of my shoulders I resemble a cocker spaniel.  I really need a haircut.  And so on.

I also take inventory of my personality this way.  Was I too rude to someone at work?  Should I consider changing the way I interact with another person in an attempt to get better results?  Am I really doing all the things I think I am to accomplish my goals or am I slacking and not being honest with myself?  Do I really understand the personality of an individual or am I missing an important piece that's hindering my interactions with them?

Perhaps it's my introverted nature and need for self evaluation.  Perhaps it's my competitive drive wanting to be the best "me" I can be.  It's often not a fun and affirming process.  I often find that it's not the other person that needs to adapt, but I could be doing more to make the relationship more rewarding for both sides, more effective in a professional capacity, etc. Sometimes I decide it's worth the effort to work on myself, sometimes it's not.

It's never kind to one's ego to admit you're in need of improvement.  But unlike wrinkles or the fact that your left ear is a little bit higher than your right, making your sunglasses always appear crooked on your face, you can always improve your interactions with others... if you're willing to admit you might not be doing it right. 

Admittedly, it's much easier and more convenient to place blame on others.  Especially if you're already accomplished in life, you've enjoyed a position of power for any length of time, etc.  History tells you that you've done a lot right and you've earned your position of having others ask you what to do.  But if you look at a broader history of the world, arrogance is usually a contributing factor to the downfall of leaders, civilizations, empires, governments, etc. 

I'll be staring in the mirror tonight.  Will you?

I am NOT a People Person

I have an uncle who has an amazing gift for gab.  He can walk up to anyone in a room and within 15 minutes they're best friends.  People feel at ease around him, and he genuinely seems to enjoy being around a wide variety of personalities.  I watch in awe as he walks around a room, engages complete strangers, and walks away with new friends that genuinely want to see him again.  It's a talent that eludes many of us, and is virtually impossible to explain how one goes about doing it successfully.

I can say without a doubt I do not share that characteristic.  In many ways I'm envious (benign envy?) of his obvious talents.  Professionally and often socially, I am at a disadvantage.  And no matter what self help articles or professional networking advice types tell me, it does NOT get easier with practice.

Unless I'm paired with an extroverted, inviting person, there are many awkward silences.  Conversation does not flow freely, and I know it's evident that my attempts at asking polite yet interesting questions is labor intensive.

I suppose I'm more British than American in that I am terrified of asking that one seemingly safe question and getting the bear trap answer.  I see a wedding band, so I think to ask if they're married and for how long, but I don't because I'm afraid they're going to respond by telling me their spouse died in a horrific car crash two months ago.  Or if they have any kids to hear that their teenager just got hauled off to rehab for the third time yesterday.

Or worse, I get stuck talking to someone I can't stand within five minutes.  As terrible as I am at forced social interaction, I'm even more terrible at hiding my feelings.  If I think someone is arrogant or egocentric, or just plain dull then my facial expressions and follow up questions are guaranteed to give me away.  I'l  let you imagine how that works out at industry functions.  I don't mind people disliking me, in fact many times I prefer it.  I just don't like potentially costing my company business because I can't fake a smile at the appropriate time.

I hate the open setting more than any other because I have zero clues to guide my conversation until I start talking to them.  If I meet them at their office, I can cheat and look for family pictures or evidence of hobbies, etc. and I can swing those meetings pretty well without looking like an inept buffoon.

Alas, I continue to put myself in situations where I end up leaving an event sweating, completely drained of energy, and very much wanting to crawl into a cave to avoid all human contact for at least a week.  I have an alumni event later this month that I'm forcing myself to attend.  I keep hoping that something eventually clicks and the whole process becomes a little bit easier.

Because in the end, I can't do this job or even my dream job successfully without being able to cleverly fake my way through a room full of strangers and leave convincing at least one of them that I'm personable and charming.  I keep watching my uncle in awe, but I can't take him with me to these things--I know I'd let him take the lead because it's so much easier.  And that will get me no where.

I don't have to start enjoying it--that would be unrealistic because dealing with people in general will always be "work" for me.  I just need to get to the point where people can't tell that it's work.

Great Customer Service

I really am a low key person when it comes to service.  All I expect is someone to do their job without making the customer feel like he/she's a burden.  They are getting paid, after all.  So when someone goes above and beyond my expectations I remember it.  I genuinely appreciate it.  As quick as I am to write a letter about bad behavior, I'm even quicker to do so for something extraordinary.

I had a meeting yesterday with an individual who did just that over three years ago.  He was fresh out of college and doing group sales packages for a minor league baseball team.  I called wanting to put together an employee night at the ballpark.  It was the usual interactions, all by phone and email.  So when game night came along, I wasn't expecting to see him at the door of the suite waiting specifically to introduce himself personally and make sure everything was satisfactory.  I saved the business card he gave me that night to call him directly for future events.

Fast forward 2 months.  Out of no where, I get an email from the guy letting me know he'd seen a magazine ad that featured my dad, his wife, and her new 7 series BMW and wanting to congratulate the company on the publicity.  First, thoughtful of him to remember that many details about a customer he'd worked with one time.  I asked him which magazine and if he knew where I could get a copy to get the ad framed for my dad.  He said he'd send me the copy he had.  Really didn't expect that and I was incredibly impressed.  Turns out, he didn't just mail it.  He took the time to drive it over to the office personally--I'd been out when he stopped by, but wow, that's amazing service.

I sent him a thank you email immediately, and I connected with him on LinkedIn not long after that.  This guy clearly had some excellent sales and customer service qualities.  Where ever he ends up, he's a great person to stay in touch with.

As luck would have it, a few months later my company was looking to hire a sales person.  I sent him an email right away.  He was flattered I thought of him, but he'd recently changed jobs and was really excited about the new one.  I understood and we talked briefly to see if there was a way we could use his services.  Unfortunately, the field he went into wasn't compatible with mine.  He understood, didn't press, and we agreed to keep in touch in case either of us ran across something.

Last week he sent me an email about a job fair.  I get emails like this ALL THE TIME.  "Advertise with us!  Reach over 500 prospective employees!  Blah, blah, blah."  I work in a strange industry and recruiting people isn't as simple as participating in a job fair.  Most people we recruit have never been in our industry, never realized it was an industry, and when they tell their networks where they moved they get asked why.  It's a great industry, very robust, and lots of money to be made by good people--it just doesn't scream glamor and excitement.  And it takes a very unique skill set to be successful.  Mass appeal need not apply.

Anyway, I responded back to this guy specifically because of everything he's done building up to this point.  And I'm discussing it with our HR people today to see if it's worthwhile for them.  And I'm going to get back with him quickly with a real answer.  He's done so many things for me without me ever asking, I owe him at least that much.  And THAT'S what great customer service is all about.  If you treat everyone like they really matter, and aren't just a means to an end, it will pay off.  I still want to recruit the guy for sales for our company.  With the right tools and support, he could make a major impact on our bottom line and be a stellar representative on the company's behalf.

I think it's sad how difficult it's become to find people like this.  But I do have a handful of these stories and I remember the people.  I stay in touch with them, and as a general rule I don't like many people.  I'd like to think I've helped a few people in a similar way over the years and they remember me for it.  I know of two people and one company that remembered me for work I'd done for them in the past.  That's really what it's all about.  It's almost too simple yet so hard to find in practice.

Bad Customer Service

I shop on the Internet.  A lot.  I don't know how I survived before it.  Shopping is not a social event for me--I want to get stuff quickly, quietly, and without complication.  I don't particularly like wandering around from store to store aimlessly looking without purpose to try things on in a space where 10 other women are doing the same thing while having private conversations with their "girlfriends" in the stall next to them.  I don't want to hear about your husband's foot fetish porn addiction.  Whatever happened to keeping certain things private?

The one downside to this otherwise glorious method of avoiding human interaction is returns. Unless I want to pay to have it shipped back (thank you Zappos for being the exception), I must still visit the brick and mortar store to handle most returns.

 There are two traits that I absolutely cannot stand in another person--stupid and lazy.  And lazy has permeated the local store that I happen to frequent most.

It started out innocently enough, I walk up to the counter with my bag of rejects and ask to return them.  The girl immediately informs me that I can make returns anywhere in the store.  I politely say thanks, even though I already knew this but I come to the customer service department because its what I prefer.  I walk through the store on my way to the "customer service" department--I rarely see someone on the floor who's not already helping someone else.

I get this routine from 2-3 girls at the counter of the next couple of months.  Finally, I push back a little.  Immediately trying to send this return to the floor, I tell her that she's told me this three times now and that I prefer coming to this counter.  I thought maybe if I pointed it out to her politely, she'd figure out that part of customer service is handling this stuff?  I'm not entirely sure, but if someone did that to me I would step back and remember that is part of my job and be a little bit embarrassed I'd represented the company I worked for so poorly.  This was not the case for these girls.

The past two visits, I've been told by girls who were on the phone (one might have actually been helping someone, the other was very obviously having a bitch-fest with a coworker in another department) that if I wanted to return something I'd need to see a sales associate.  The first time, I was a little shocked and just stood there and stared at her for a moment before leaving.  The second time, you would have had to been a complete moron to not notice I was perturbed--this was the bitch fest.  Ironically, the same floor sales associate handled the returns for me on the floor both times.  She was incredibly polite, very helpful, and even stopped the restocking she was doing once to help me out.  So the second time, I asked her what the deal was with their customer service department employees turning people away with returns?

I know it was a little unfair, but she handled it brilliantly.  She apologized, didn't throw them under the bus, and even tried to offer an excuse for them to make sure the company's reputation wasn't tarnished.  If she was having a bad day, I would never know it.  If she ever wants out of retail, I would hire her on that basis alone.

So, why am I writing what was is basically a long-winded whine session?  Well, this particular company is world renowned for its eagerness to help and please a customer.  In most cases they live up to that reputation.  And I have some returns that I've been putting off because I really don't want to deal with the chance of getting one of these lazy girls.  If I have to deal with one of them, my politeness has run out and I know I'm going to say something tacky and crass.  I'll ask specifically for her name, write it down in front of her so she knows I won't forget, and then I'll write a letter to the store manager letting him/her know how poorly this person represents their brand.

I've hit that point where social decorum no longer matters to me and I'm going to be the bitch that gets them in trouble.  I strongly dislike people who work in a job with "customer service" in the description and decide it's at best an afterthought.  I realize it's probably not their dream career, and that's fine.  I know it's not the only thing they do all day.  I'm not expecting them to jump over the moon and kiss my ass, just that they not make me feel like I'm inconveniencing them by walking up.  I'm merely asking that these ladies not be employees who put more effort into getting out of work than it would take to do their job decently.

What's the saying--for every good experience you have, you tell three people and for every bad you tell ten?  Tomorrow, to balance things out I think I'll discuss the people who've gone above and beyond when they didn't have to, and how it's impacted my business relationship with them.  I can't be a bitch all the time, right?  (Please don't answer that.)

I Wrote Haikus

So weird things happen in email sometimes that lead to hilarious things--and yesterday my coworkers and I got off on a random tangent of haiku writing.  Then I posted it to Twitter and said I'd take requests.  I got four.

On Baby Feet:
Scamper about you
Little toes curled and happy
Covered in vomit

On Elephant Ears:
Giant, round and grey
They hear the roars of lions
But can't run away

On Staples:
My Swingline is best
Binding makes me quite angry
I could burn this place

On Malbec:
French grapes make great wine
Argentina found this true
Nazis drink it up

I was quite amused writing them.  I managed to make a great Mike Judge reference, WWII escapee reference through wine of all things, and even one that was intentionally a little profound.  You want me to write for you now.  I can tell.  I promise I'll only be offensive if given expressed permission. 

I'll write a few more if I get another topic suggestion in the comments.  The more obscure the topic, the more fun it will be.

Writing Groove

I typically write these the night before I post them, give them a final once over the next day, and then click publish for my adoring fan.  I have only a limited time to devote to writing each day, after my daughter goes to sleep but before I have to at least attempt to sleep so I'm not a worthless zombie at my paying gig.  But I'm making time for it on a daily basis and I know that's important to evolve as a writer.

Tonight I used most of that time working on a short story for a competition. The deadline is August 31st and I got into a groove.  I have a plot outline, character introductions, and even a pretty good idea of how I want to end the story to give the feeling I really want to impart with my potential audience.  I really enjoy writing like that, but I know it's worth more to force yourself through the moments when the words just don't flow.

I wanted to stay up and keep going--one of the things I like most about writing. It doesn't matter what time/day/place you're at, you can write. That bodes well for me when I wake up at 2 am and can't go back to sleep. I think it might be a better outlet for me than watching replays of WRC on Speed Channel.  I'm not one of those people who can just "shut it off" at a designated time, and I've always found the traditional business career limiting in that regard.  I know many people prefer such an arrangement and I understand the appeal of it--I'm just not wired that way.

I'm really looking forward to this submission. Whether I win anything or get published, I'll get some genuine feedback from editors. This will be my first opportunity to take something I've worked hard on and see if it's worth a sh*t.  It makes me a little anxious, but excited at the same time.  While I'm incredibly grateful to the support and encouragement I've received thus far (and the understanding I'm given when I commit just a little bit more time to something other than my little family), having someone read my work who has no emotional attachment to me, and doesn't have to deal with the repercussions of hurting my feelings will teach me far more than anyone I know personally.

Now to get the first draft done, so I can move on to the part that always makes me craziest: editing my own work.

My Own Contradictions

An old "version" of my closet--the clothes have changed but the order has not.

I'm sure I have many, but the one that I'm most acutely aware of after this past weekend is my compulsive need to have a neat and sparkling house--but I absolutely loathe the act of cleaning.  If there were ever something I wish I could afford to pay someone else to do, it would be this.  Despite more than one person comparing me to Monica from "Friends," cleaning does nothing to soothe my soul. 

But I can't NOT do it.  When I see clothes lying all over the floor or dishes piled up in the sink, my left eyelid starts involuntarily twitching.  I see a ring in a bath tub and I start to cringe.  I see water splash on a bathroom mirror and my upper lip begins to curl in disgust.  Clutter of any kind makes me want to grab a trash can and just start chucking things into it.  This makes things a little tense when I have a husband, a toddler, and a dog with a shedding issue.  I volunteered for each of them, and I wouldn't trade them for anything.  It's just a difficult adjustment for me.  I'll admit, there are things I still won't "adjust" on.

Clean rooms make me happy.  Patrick Bateman's apartment described in "American Psycho" makes me happy.  A gift card to The Container Store and two days with nothing to do but re-organize drawers make me happy.  My closet is a beautiful site to behold and I could be blindfolded to pick out a specific article of clothing.  My CDs (the ones I have left over from a world before iTunes) are alphabetized. 

I just don't want to have anything to do with scrubbing toilets, baseboards, mopping, or sanitizing the shower.  I hate that so many things stain a white porcelain sink.  I do, however, go back to that eyeball twitching thing if they're not done.  But once I start, it almost becomes an exercise in futility--I meticulously start doing one thing but while doing it, I notice at least two other things that really need to get done so I put those on my list.  By the time I've finished a basic clean, it's turned into me wearing a HAZMAT suit walking around with Q-Tips and peroxide to get every dirty nook and cranny.  I move furniture to vacuum under it.  I lift up electronics to dust between or under them.  I've vacuumed the dog.  She still runs from the Dyson.  Human beings were not meant to spend their time this way!

And being lenient on or understanding of those who don't put things back in their designated spot immediately after use does not come naturally to me.  It's so blatant that my not-even-22-month-old daughter has gotten in the habit of closing doors all the way that were not.  She brings me shoes that someone has left out.  She puts clothes in the laundry basket that were on the floor.  She's really good at picking up all her blocks and putting them in the bag when I tell her it's time to clean up.  She thinks it's fun to carry around the microfiber dusting tool and clean stuff with it.

I struggle with this insanity week after week.  I dread it each time, but spend far more time than I want to completing the tasks.  And I've been thinking all day that I didn't vacuum over the weekend, so I absolutely have to get it done after work tonight.  It's going to cut into my writing time again, but if I don't do it I'll just be annoyed.  Do they make a pill that fixes this yet?

Fab Friday

What the Camaro looked like before it went all Frankenstein's Monster

I think I might have gotten a little carried away with yesterday's post.  Sad part is I cut it down and left out several details in an effort to make it more blog suitable.  Whoops.

So in an effort to not make any one's brain melt today, I'll try to keep it short. Annnnnnd click "publish."  Ha!  Lame joke, but I couldn't resist.  I'm feeling especially Monty Python-ish today; maybe it's all the John Cleese commercials I see during evening Olympic coverage.

Today's a great day for me.  A personal project of mine is entering the final stages of completion, and after almost 7 years I'll finally have an outcome.  It's a car--yes, I know it's not the typical project for a chick but I think I've established by now I'm far from normal... bordering on insane.  I'm okay with that.  More importantly, it's a 1969 Camaro.  I started out with a 15 year old's dream to turn one into something amazing--looking classically restored on the outside, and a modern monster under the shell.  I'd like to think I was able to somewhat stick to that dream, but the monster side may have been more prominent than I originally intended.  The roll cage, 12 gauges, multiple switches, and 5 point harnesses fitted to stock seats will give it away to someone who knows cars, but oh well.  I'll just have to do my best to act like an F1 team and prevent people from looking/photographing under the body or hood to hide the rest.

Everyone has one of those projects, either personally or professionally, that starts off simply enough and then before you know it, it's barely recognizable as the original idea.  This one is mine.  Looking back over it objectively, it would have been a LOT smarter and cost effective to buy a crate motor, drop it in, and be done with it.  But I held on to my idea of having something unique a little too hard.  If this were a business project, the NPV, IRR, and whatever other financial tool one can think of to evaluate the worth of a project would have been dripping with red ink.  I probably would have shut it down, redirected it, or put it aside to revisit later had it been business.  But emotions got the best of me.

Of course I can say all this because it's not 100% complete and I haven't driven it yet.  I'll probably change my mind once I crank the engine for the first time sitting in the driver's seat.  I've sunk more money into this car than I care to admit, my dad has advanced birthday and Christmas presents for me well into the 22nd century, and at least 5 different shops have had their hands in it.  I'm eternally grateful for their help because without them, it'd be at least another 7 years in the making.  Probably several more.  Time and money are precious commodities, and I couldn't be more humbled that so many have shared theirs to help make this absolutely ridiculous dream a reality.

Today, it rolls out of the last performance shop under its own power and heads to the body shop for paint, glass, and seals.  I'll need a pre-flight checklist to go through every time I start it, but there really will be nothing else like it on the road. 

Every once in a while, one of those ideas that shouldn't happen because it doesn't make sense does happen.  And the end result can force even the biggest skeptics to take a step back and wonder if maybe they should try something crazy, too.

Walking Around Upside Down

Me and my partner taking 5th at Nationals for synchronized trampoline

The Olympics' coverage of women's gymnastics is always bittersweet for me.  I enjoy watching it because it's rarely given decent coverage the other 3 years (seriously--I think they only air it on ESPN "the Ocho") and I spent 11 years within its depths.  I see the mistakes that the average viewers miss, I know the proper names of the tricks, who they were named after, and I know the track record and medal count of many of the gymnasts going back to Nadia Comaneci in the 1976 games.

Gymnastics is a unique sport.  It's highly individual, yet they force a team aspect out of it.  It's incredibly repetitious yet constantly asks you to take huge risks.  It's physically brutal yet the mental aspect can cost you more than a failed joint.  It's full of contradictions, snap judgments, and double standards.  Coaches, gymnasts, and judges can play extremely dirty and the stories about children being put through what many might consider a form of torture are rampant (and often not unfounded).  Countless kids have had genuine breakdowns by the age of 12 under the pressure of competition, leaving the sport for good, cursing the lasting emotional torment it's left in their lives.

And yet, for 11 years I absolutely loved it and was engrossed in the life.  I didn't leave because of an injury, a mental breakdown, or even because of the time I got screwed out of medalling in my first Nationals.  I left because I somehow lost the favor of my coach--he began taking his personal problems out on me and over the course of 6 months or so I began to seriously question whether or not I was prepared to make the personal sacrifices necessary to get to that next level.  Because that next level was to move into that world of the Elite gymnast--where home schooling is the norm to work around 8 hour a day practices, compete not just around the state and country, but around the world, and compete against girls who could sometimes be 6-8 years older than me with the same extra years experience in competitions.

To this day, I often wonder if things would have worked out differently had my coach not found a new "favorite" on the team.  Would I have questioned how much farther I could realistically go?  Would I have started wondering what a "normal" life would be like?  Would I have lost my passion and dedication?  Would I have to wait for that career ending injury and following surgeries to make my decision for me?  I'll never know, but these questions still linger.  Unfinished business.  Possible life altering mistakes that I have lived with for almost 20 years.  No, the questions don't fade with time.

I do know that I put all my medals and ribbons in a shoe box and didn't look at them for a couple years.  They're still in that same shoe box today.  I took down all my posters of other gymnasts I idolized.  I put every reference to the sport out of my room, and I refused to watch it on TV for a while.  The decision to leave tore me up inside, the way very few things in life can do. I defined myself as a gymnast and now suddenly had to start from scratch on figuring out who I was as an individual.  I was 14 years old and didn't know what it was like to not immediately go to the gym almost every day after school.  I had only a handful of friends who weren't gymnasts.  I had very little to relate to my peers with because I was behind on movies, music, cute boys, and even the cool stuff to wear because all of my focus was dedicated to gymnastics or getting good enough grades so I could keep doing gymnastics.

The kind of gymnastics I flourished in wasn't your traditional all around with beam, bars, vault and floor.  Although that's where I started at the age of 3 in a program called Kinder-lites with my first coach Mrs. B.  My parents were looking for an outlet for my energy--and I found sanctuary.  We moved three years later and found a local gym--the head coach had been a former assistant to Bella Karolyi.  I was star struck--a real link to Mary Lou?  How could I not be?  I still remember try outs to make the competitive team at 6 years old.  I made it--and the prize was my very own "belt" with my name in purple, the color of the mighty Titans to which I now belonged.  I cherished it and wore it proudly EVERYWHERE.  I remember various coaches--Cheryl, Ed, Kelly, and Raymond, the team head coach.    One of them was not so nice in their coaching style and made some of those torture rumors ring a little bit too true.  But that coach got results and quickly ruled out the mentally weak--so it's difficult to say it wasn't effective.

I competed, I placed, and I got to a point where I wasn't going to advance anymore in that gym.  So, not being too emotionally attached at that point, I left for a year and started playing soccer.  Turns out I wasn't very good at it.  I didn't have the natural ability like I did in gymnastics.  So fate intervened a little--I attended a soccer friend's birthday party at a gymnastics center.  But this was something called Power Tumbling and sanctioned through the ATTA (American Trampoline and Tumbling Association--and now seems to have become a part of the USGA).  Instead of a square floor, there was a bouncy strip you tumbled all the way down--no dance moves.  Instead of bars and beam, there was a trampoline you did a routine one instead of tested new tricks.  The coaches hosting the party were coaxing me to do some of my old tricks and I was like a duck in water.  They asked me to join their team that day.  How could I refuse?  I was reinvigorated.  I was a mediocre soccer player at best, and I knew I had the chance to be truly great at this.

In the span of two competition seasons, I managed to move from Novice to Advanced.  I was having fun.  I had learned more new tricks in two years than I had in 6 years of all around.  This was where I belonged.  My mom diligently took me to fabulous destinations like Lawton, OK for meets.  And then, in 1992, I qualified for my first Nationals.  There I lived a gymnast's worst nightmare.  I fell on my face in my first event, killing any hopes of being on the podium.  But I still had two more events to go and I had to pull it together for those.  I pulled off my routines, but they weren't good enough to medal... or so I thought.

When I went to check my posted scores to see how I did, my mom noticed the math didn't look right on one of my events.  She pulled out a calculator to double check, and yes, they had shorted me two full points and the correct score would have put me in 2nd place and qualified me to go to the World Competition in that event.  She went to the judges, argued, was denied, argued some more, found the people running the event, argued with them--and all of her effort went in vain.  The math error cost me a medal at my first Nationals and a chance to compete representing Team USA.  I was devastated, angry, and determined to not let it happen again.  I felt cheated--so much more so than I ever did in all around where they would deduct points if your hair got out of place during your floor routine.  Because some idiots couldn't double check their math, I missed out on the opportunity of a lifetime.  It was my equivalent of an Olympics and I'd been robbed.  Now I'd have to wait two years for a chance to make Worlds again.

1993 led me back to Nationals and my first international stage, the Indo Pacific Games.  But that's also the season where it fell apart.  My coach at the time, Chad, started having relationship problems with his girlfriend, pretty serious financial issues (the gym even closed a couple years later), and came to practice frequently taking his frustrations out on the team.  My teammates were no longer my best friends thanks to various changing social structures from joining the world of teen angst and what I can only assume self preservation to stay out of Chad's cross hairs.  If the negative focus was on me, then it wasn't on them.  From all sides, I was an outsider trying to claw my way back in while trying to maintain my focus on my events and routines.  It was exhausting.  I cried after going to bed many nights--I didn't want anyone to see or hear me.  I started dreading going to practice because I knew I'd get yelled at, ignored, or even ridiculed sometimes outright, with the coach joining in.

Somehow I managed to fight through it to end up finishing 5th in one event and 9th in another in Nationals--and 7th overall in one event in the Games.  I was, by definition, one of the top gymnasts in the country, part of Team USA, and the thought of going through all that another year made me physically sick.  Surprising both of my parents, I told them during the off season I wanted out.  They asked me to think about it, asked if I wanted to find a new gym, but I told them I had been miserable for months and that I didn't love it anymore.
Reluctantly, they helped me cut all ties with Chad, the gym, and they put up with my senseless drama about not knowing what to be for a while.  My mom convinced me to go through the certification to become a judge--I had to have been one of the youngest judges ever, but they allowed it because of my years of experience.  I hated it.  If I wasn't out there competing, it just felt wrong to be there at all.  Plus, seeing how subjective other judges were and how open they were about it only made me more angry about my years of being on the other side, wondering if I was being purposefully kept off the podium.

So what did I get to take away from all this once it was all said and done?  I avoided any massive, life altering injuries, which I still consider myself lucky for--it was very common to compete hurt and nothing I ever did turned into something serious.  I came away with one of the biggest competitive drives that still influences me greatly today.  I have a "never quit" attitude--which has helped me push through some tough times and made me better, but I've also stayed a part of things far too long, thinking I'm obligated to finish it simply because I started it.  I have yet to be put in a situation that I've felt was more stressful than competing on the world stage--so I'm either in massive denial or I handle stress really well.  There's good and bad that carry forward--same for the memories when I look back.

Now I'm starting to get asked if I'll get my daughter into gymnastics.  I want to let her try because, honestly, she does show some aptitude for it already.  But I'm not sure I want to let her get as involved as I did.  The one simple reason is that I still can't answer that fundamental question, "Was it all worth it?"

Way to Go!

So I started this thing and posted diligently... and almost immediately took a hiatus for a vacation.  That shows true dedication, right?  And now I'm completely distracted each night by the Olympics.  Who doesn't love watching sports you never pay attention to but once every 4 years?  Sure, I may cheer for *insert non US citizen pro athlete here* on a daily basis, but this is my chance to call them dirty foreign scum, beat my chest for no reason, and chant USA! over and over again.  I can almost hear the eagle cries in the background now.

But I digress. 

The point of this post is to get back in the swing of things and not falter so quickly on this whole writing idea.  I need to do a slight reset before I dive back in (sports pun!).  After reading a couple of the ones I posted, and a lot of what I've been writing and not posting is, unfortunately, quite negative and far too angry for what I'm trying to accomplish.  While it's honest, I don't need to let myself become this snide, bitter bitch on wheels with only mean things to say.  I'm much more capable than that, and I need to do a better job of showing it.  Plus, writing angry only makes me more angry and the whole point of writing is to do something I enjoy and escape from the things in life I can't change but irritate me so.

All it took was a week without a computer, a drop of about 20 degrees in average high temperatures, amazing beaches, and watching my daughter play on said beaches to gain a little perspective.  We'll see how long it lasts.  But for now, I'm working on re-editing a few things, coming up with some new material (that hopefully hasn't reached dead horse status yet), and entering my first short story competition (hopefully I get it finished in time).

Fear not, my almost dozen readers!  I shall carry forth into the fray and bring wit, attitude, and quirk back into your reading lives!  And yes, there will probably be an entire post on gymnastics--even though it's been almost 20 years now, it still took up a major part of my life and influenced the person I've become in SO many ways.  I might even throw out a few hot sports opinions on some of the "famous" gymnasts from years past I had various interactions with. 

One More Take on Marissa Mayer

Eve at just over 12 months

As if it hasn't been covered to death already, here's one more view on Yahoo! hiring Marissa Mayer knowing she is 6 months pregnant as their latest CEO. To be honest, I didn't know much about her when she was first announced and I didn't realize she was pregnant until the next day when the news stories flashed EVERYWHERE. It got old fast, but at the same time it is a corporate first and widely unexpected.  It struck a nerve with me personally, as a relatively new mom struggling daily with finding some kind of balance with climbing the corporate ladder and feeling like I'm not missing too much of my daughter's life.

Eve is 21 months old right now.  She's nothing short of awesome.  The worst part of my day is dropping her off at daycare around 6:45 in the morning.  Tears have surfaced on more than one occasion.  And I can't even begin to describe the gut wrenching pain of having to tell your child you have to go when they're crying and holding on to you not wanting you to leave.  The best part of my day is picking her up between 5:30 and 6 depending on traffic.  She's always so happy to see me--flashing a gigantic smile and running over to hug my legs and ask me to pick her up.  We've gotten into a sort of rhythm, but it took a long while to get to this point.  And I'm not exactly thrilled she spends a majority of her waking hours with someone other than me.

I took three months off from work when she was born.  I laid out a detailed plan on how I would work from home, slowly at first, but then ramp up so that by the second month I'd be doing my entire job from home with a few exceptions.  I thought I'd be able to get it down so fast, that while yes it would be an adjustment, it wouldn't completely turn my life upside down, and I wouldn't lose too much ground professionally.

Wow, was I wrong.  I couldn't believe how much I'd underestimated motherhood would impact my professional life.  First off, where I'd been extremely career driven before, I'd found that I preferred spending time with my little baby.  I was so anxious to see what new thing she was going to learn each day, when she'd hit the baby milestones.  Watch all of her firsts.  Suddenly the after work drinks to network didn't appeal to me.  I'd rather be home with her.  I continue to struggle with the guilt of missing so much of her day and only getting to spend a few short hours with her in the evenings before she goes to bed.

Second, I nursed.  For an entire year.  It was extremely important to both me and my husband that we give her the best nutritional start we could.  I'm proud of it, but try scheduling meetings or taking phone calls or even planning to attend an event after work around that schedule.  To keep things flowing (so to speak) you have to pump about the same time your baby would be taking her usual meal.  So three times a day, I shut my door for about 20-25 minutes and focused on answering emails or doing reports and other paperwork.  Yes, I researched how to make my pump "hands free."

Traveling was difficult to say the least.  I managed to make a few day trips and a couple of 2 and 3 night stays at various times, but then that meant pumping 4-6 times a day, making sure I had a refrigerator/freezer to store it in my hotel room, and then transporting everything back and forth on airplanes with freezer packs.  But I also avoided more than one trip because it was complicated and again, I wanted to be home.

Add on top of it, how much more difficult it would have been if my husband hadn't been so understanding and supportive of my career, stepping up to play Mr. Mom while I was gone.  But that also means his career has the potential to suffer as well.  If I'm out of town, and he gets the call that Eve has a fever, he has to drop everything to go pick her up and take her to the doctor.  If she's sick for more than a day, one of us has to stay home with her.  All of that is time away from work when others are there.

Now back to Mrs. Mayer.  She'll be a first time mom--is she also underestimating the insanity that is motherhood?  Obviously, she's in a financial position to have full time help should she want it, but will she grapple with the ever present "mommy guilt" the same way I do?  Will Yahoo! and more importantly its investors and analysts be understanding of a flexible work schedule when it comes to the stock price?  Will the Board continue to support her and how she wants to run the company if they start to feel the frequent pediatrician visits or calls about a sick child are interfering with the company's performance?  She's not exactly taking over the most stable company--and turning a company around is a lot more demanding than keeping one on a smooth sailing course.

Personally, I hope she's some kind of miracle CEO that turns Yahoo! into a relevant player again.  I hope she's able to find that balance where she's comfortable with the sacrifices she makes at home and the ones she makes at work.  Because without question, both will have to happen.  I hope she's fulfilled personally and professionally.  And I hope that she doesn't mind that professionally ambitious moms everywhere are looking at her in hopes that a very public success story will help pave the way for their own success.

The Generational Change Gap

This is a sensitive topic, as I'm voluntarily walking into the bear trap of being that stereotypical, younger whining twit who thinks old people just don't get it, man.  Even more so when I disclose that I work for a company that's run by my family.  But that doesn't make it any less of a real issue.  I've spent more time editing this one than I did writing it, and I hope my attempt to remain objective and not get personal reflects that.  If not, feel free to argue with me and point out where I'm wrong.

There are times when I avoid our almost 79 year old Chairman of the Board.  And those days where I get sucked into something, well, they're often filled with more headaches than solutions.  Unfortunately, he really doesn't understand what I do.  Much of what I'm involved in simply didn't exist in his heyday, and while they're critical now, they weren't for many years and I know he has trouble seeing the value I bring to the bottom liine.  I've been introduced to various people he has tour our office as "my oldest granddaughter... I have no idea what she does on that computer all day, but she sure looks pretty doing it."  I think he means this as a compliment, but there's very little I find more insulting professionally.  So I do what I can to get my job done without his interference.

It's sad, and I'm sure the company as a whole is missing out on some benefits it would otherwise gain if there were a way we could work together more productively.

This dread and swelling urge to roll my eyes is often misconstrued as a general disdain for the older generations. I find myself right in the middle of that over lap between Gen X and Gen Y (I tend to self identify more with the Xers) but neither generation are well known to view the baby boomers or WWII generation with the greatest regard when it comes to business.  However, at least for me, there are two very distinct types of of these "older business types" and while I do often find one group incorrigible, I genuinely feel the other gets a bad rep from their counterparts.  The result is, and I'm just as guilty as the rest, we tend to ignore the wealth of knowledge they could constructively provide.

The first group I'm referring to has the mentality of management by walking around, their ways of doing business are the only ways, and you can't possibly get any work done if you're not in the office. They tend to look at younger generations as soft, spoiled, maybe even a little inept.  They come across not as attempting to impart their years of wisdom (which they do have, I must give credit where it's due) but more as a parent using the "tiger style" approach on an unruly child.  These are the CEOs who, despite several studies and articles that speak to the contrary, will make every attempt to kill social media usage while their workers are on the clock because they think it destroys their precious productivity.  They tend to show too much favor toward one aspect of a business as the critical department that determines a company's success or failure (not a coincidence, it's often the department they came up through to their current prominence).  They force their ideas down the throats of those who report to them instead of granting those people the freedom to make a critical decision.  They scoff at innovation and can be overheard saying something similar to "that's the way we've always done it" or "this has worked for me for 30 years, I don't see how you can't make it work now."

From my perspective, it's very easy to see why I may come across as unwilling to listen to the "olds" overall.  However, some of the business people I look up to most include Warren Buffet, H. Ross Perot, Richard Branson, and Jack Welch. They're not perfect but they have one very critical thing in common.  Here's the simple idea that creates a massive divide between the people I rather harshly described before to make a point and these gentlemen--they embrace and cultivate change. They're intelligent enough to know they don't know everything and look for knowledge and ideas at every possible turn. 

It seems like such a simple concept to me and many among my two generational groups yet it's amazingly difficult to get older generations to use in a business setting. I'm not sure of the motivation behind this behavior but I certainly find myself speculating--are they realizing they're approaching the end of their "useful life" in the business world and they feel a little resentment toward feeling cast aside?  Are they convinced this "new" business model is all wrong and will only result in our impending fall into some sort of zombie apocalypse? There are a myriad of potential explanations, but whatever the truth is (and it's probably different for each of them), they hold to it like the world will end if they let that idea go. 

Yes, change is uncomfortable and sends you out into the world not knowing how it will turn out.  Yes, change may reveal that you're no longer as astute as you once were in business.  Yes, change can be extremely difficult and can make you feel incredibly unsure of your professional future.  But the "ah ha" revelation that should go with those fears is change is no different for someone who is 65 than it is for someone at 25.  It scares all of us.  No matter your age, experience, your knowledge, or even your chosen profession and your rank within it, change means you have to adapt, continue learning, and is essentially a lot more work than going with the status quo.

But even the Greek philosophers (who are literally as old as dirt by now) almost preached that the key to life is to never stop learning.  Plato said, "If a man neglects education, he walks lame to the end of his life." There may no valid reason for you to take heed of what I think or say, however, I've always heard this Plato guy was pretty smart. Hopefully you'll at least consider his words and embrace the small difference in your attitude that can literally transform your legacy, your impression you leave with the younger generations you lead today, and create an opportunity to impart the infinite wisdom you do have to share with the world. It's not necessarily what you say but how you say it and how you respond to others, but that cliche is for another story....

Blast From the Past

I came across something that I wrote years ago in high school.  It was based on the early 70s feminist essay, "I Want a Wife" by Judy Brady (you can Google it).  Basically, the assignment was to write your own version of this social commentary, and I really got into it.  So, what better way to make a bold statement than to spit in the face of the high school social structure as I saw it?  I still remember the teacher reading my version of the essay in its entirety for the class and most of them being shocked that I was revealed as the author.  I hadn't quite become the vociferous opinionated person I am today.

So here it is, completely uneditted after15 years:

I WANT A GIRLFRIEND

Since entering high school, I have noticed and have been a part of several relationships. In seeing what could possibly occur and what often does occur, I have come to the conclusion that I, too, would like to have a girlfriend. The reason for this is simple; a girlfriend usually becomes a puppet to control.

My girlfriend would be absolutely perfect. She would be devoted and caring, but never controlling. She would always think I am intelligent and witty, and would never show a difference of opinion. After a long, hard day of school and football practice, my girlfriend would stop what she might be doing to rush over to my house. There she would give me a massage while I complained about my homework and how hard today’s practice was. If my mom was not in the position to prepare my food when I wanted it, she would happily volunteer to prepare whatever I so desired, being extremely careful to cook each item just the way I want it. After I was finished with my meal, my girlfriend would clean up after me, because she would not want me doing anything that might use my remaining energy.

She would be sure to help me with my homework because she knows I cannot fail and still play football. Though I may not feel like doing such a task, she would make sure everything would be done correctly. When I grow tired of her presence, she would go home without asking questions, where she would resume whatever she may have been doing earlier. At school, she would meet me by my locker, and sit with my friends in the mornings. None of her friends would stop and bother mine and my girlfriend would go off with her friends when I so desired. That way I would be left alone to talk with my friends about “guy stuff.”

On the weekends, I would be able to spend plenty of time with my friends, and she would go out with hers. However, if I asked her to go out with me she would, even if it meant canceling plans with her friends. I am her number one priority and she would compromise anything to be with me.

If we ever had a fight, my girlfriend would be the one to apologize and say that I am right. I am allowed to remain angry at her, since she disagreed with me and she would understand completely. If we argued too much for my taste, I would break up with her until she came to her senses. When she realizes that she needs me, I would consider taking her back, but if I did not she would leave me alone. Finally, when I do find someone more suitable for my standards, I could easily break up with my current girlfriend for the better one.

I am regrettably sorry to say that this is not fiction because too many times I have seen males treat their girlfriend in such a manner. If it continues without our knowing it, it will continue until someone figures out that this behavior is wrong. If girls are often like this, then it is no wonder why every male considers them to be the “perfect girlfriend.”

The Ugly Truth of Business

I’m jaded.  I’m not going to lie to you.  I’ve worked for some pretty terrible companies, and I’ve been a part of some organizations that when I took a hard look at their business philosophy and leadership, I was genuinely shocked they managed (puns!) to stay in business for more than two or three years.  But there are still some amazing companies out there… at least that’s the rumor.  I read about several of them in Forbes, Fortune, and the Wall Street Journal.  They make me yearn for a company I can believe in, support completely, and be inspired regularly to be the very best version of my professional self.  I’m sure each has their fair share of people who walked away thinking it was completely screwed up and they were doomed for failure, but I digress. Culture and fit is a topic for another day.

Back to being a sourpuss who wants to (look for the irony) get away from business by starting up one of my own.  My plan is a pizza place.  It’ll be brilliant—a giant middle finger Mecca for all those, like me, who are exhausted by trying to make a difference in the corporate world through silly things like morals and logic.  The name would be simple—Christi’s Pizza Parlor.  But the slogan would be, “Where we say F You to Corporate Rules.”  I know, it’s a tacky gimmick, but if a burger place can thrive on feeding 300 pound obese people for free and naming their food after life changing surgeries, I think I’m well within my rights of marketing freedom.  We’d hire teenagers to work there—because what teenager doesn’t love the idea of being a part of a lame rebellion?  Time clocks and scheduled work shifts?  Who needs them.  Inventory control?  Pfft, we’ll just order stuff when it looks like we need it.  Pricing strategies?  So over rated.  Health codes?  I mean it’s not like we haven’t all toyed with the 5 second rule at some point in our lives.  Market research and advertising?  I won’t have time for that because I’ll be too busy watching my kindred spirits flock to the place only to find out that there’s no guarantee they’ll get their pizza in a timely manner or even as they ordered it.  Who knows if the place will even be open during the lunch rush because my ever reliable teenage workforce might just decide they don’t feel like working that day?  It just adds to the fun!  Remember, I’m very dedicated to this slogan piece of my pseudo business.

I should be wildly successful.  I mean, I’m playing to all the things that drive people crazy about their jobs (including myself) and I’ve got a hilarious angle to make the place fun and inviting (although I may need to come up with a PG version of the slogan for families), and most importantly I have no real business plan.  How is that not a recipe for me to make millions?  I’ll have multiple venture capitalists trying to get me to franchise the thing out in a matter of months, right?

As much as we lament day in and day out about corporate policies, various procedures that we have to follow to get things done, and we curse the bosses who won’t bend on what we feel is the silliest of policies… it all still exists for a good reason.  Yes, the execution may be horribly flawed but the basic principles still hold true when they’re not twisted and contorted into something that becomes a farce of the original idea.

1.      You have to make more than you spend to stay in business (unless you’re a gigantic bank apparently)

2.     You need to pay your bills (hopefully promptly)

3.     You need to hire good people, treat them fairly, and help them grow professionally

4.     You need to evaluate your own ideas, processes, policies, and even vendors to make sure they’re still the best choice for the business AT THAT POINT IN TIME (more on that in a moment)

5.     You have to have a little fun with it and not take things so seriously all the time

Here’s the kicker—what seems like an almost idiot proof idea, the execution always seems to find that new level of idiot we weren’t prepared for.  Or I could take a slightly less sarcastic approach to retorting my own arguments: there’s simply confusion and interpretation that leads to the failed execution of these ideas.  Any time two or more people interact, what one person says is not going to be heard by the other(s) exactly as intended the first time.

So how do we get past that?  Is it even possible?  That's where the hard work and using common sense comes into play. Voltaire has been quoted as saying, "Common sense is not so common."  This couldn't be truer in business. There's a delicate balance between executing common sense ideas like keeping an accurate inventory to avoid waste or running out of something and dwelling on 20 different inventory reports that may not even be that reliable to begin with.

While my pizza parlor is the very extreme case, the rebellion has merit. Give people certain necessary boundaries but give them the freedom to work in a manner they enjoy. Make sure the essentials are tracked accurately and in a timely manner but let go of the things that beat people down and truly provide little useful information.  Use common sense--and if you lack it (it's okay to admit it), hire someone who can keep you in check.  And most importantly, have a little fun.  We spend a quarter of our time at work every week--and that doesn't include any commuting time, extra hours, or the time people mull over work issues at home or in their minds. While every case has the exception most people just want to do something they enjoy, challenge them, and makes them feel like they're making a genuine contribution to the world. Stop ruining it for us by making common sense so ridiculous it no longer makes sense.