Change and Persevere in Business and in Work

My friend Lisa recently told me the story of how her husband, Brian, became a Mechanical Engineer. Right around the time they got married 15 years ago, Brian got tired of working at his low-paying, swing-shift factory job, an irrelevant path resulting from earlier youthful struggles. He wanted to go to college, but he was concerned that he wouldn't succeed. He was 28 years old.

Lisa, who at the time was a college admissions counselor, gave him some practical advice. "I advised him to take an English course at the local community college," she recalled. "And depending on what grade he received, that would give him a sense of his chances of getting a college degree." Brian got an A in that English course. Still in need of proof, Brian then took a math course at the community college. He got another A. Which led to his Associate's in Science degree in Engineering Science. Which then led to his admission to Syracuse University, where he received his Bachelor's of Science degree in Mechanical Engineering. He was almost 33 years old, a quintessential late-bloomer.

When Brian died almost 12 years later this past August suddenly and unexpectedly from cardiac arrhythmia, he was the lead Mechanical Design Engineer at his company. In the online memorial guest book, one of his managers wrote: Engineer: Extremely smart, analytical mind with common sense.

At Brian's memorial service yesterday, his best friend Wally, an Engineering professor himself and Brian's biofuel co-producer / co-conspirator, summed it up neatly. "Brian changed, and persevered. He was an example to us all." Indeed.

Let Go of Resentment to Move Forward Successfully in Business and at Work

Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies.

- Nelson Mandela

As these days of awe draw to a close this Wednesday, I'm reminded of a transformational termination of an employee. How can a termination be transformational? Because the employee took responsibility for terminating himself.

In the vast majority of terminations I have adjudicated as a Human Resources practitioner, the employees have terminated themselves: they exhausted the progressive discipline process (usually, the issue was a fundamental inability to get their butts to the building and work their prescribed schedules). Many organizations require employees to work prescribed schedules to meet / exceed customer needs. For example: like getting your paycheck on payday? It helps when the folks in Payroll are reliable so you in turn can rely on receiving your paycheck.

After many years of conducting termination conversations, I don't expect the terminated employee to be happy about losing their job. Of course, they're almost always upset. On the surface, they're upset with me and their manager, but really, they're upset with themselves and don't have the emotional intelligence to take responsibility for their own actions. If they had that level of emotional intelligence, they in all likelihood wouldn't have terminated themselves in the first place. At the beginning of my career, I alternated between incredulity and indignation at the lack of responsibility for terminating themselves. As time went on and my experience grew, I considered myself a termination doula, with the goal of making the experience of transitioning from their job as dignified and professional as the terminated employee will allow.

Attendance was this particular employee's problem as well. He clearly did not care about getting to work on time, and his manager had given him more than enough chances to work his scheduled hours. I was waiting in the conference room for the employee and his manager. They entered the room and sat down. "You know why we're here?" I asked the employee. His manager, inexperienced with terminations, took a deep breath. Employee looked at Manager, and then looked at me. "I did it to myself," Employee stated calmly. I could feel my eyebrow rise in surprise. Manager finally exhaled. Employee turned to him. "Manager, don't feel bad. You gave me more than enough leeway to clean up my act, and I didn't take you up on it. This is my fault." Manager was touched by Employee's candor. "Employee, you're a smart guy and I really enjoyed working with you. But-" Employee finished Manager's sentence. "But I just couldn't get my ass to work. I know." Manager nodded, and looked at me. I nodded too. "Okay, sounds like we're all set. Manager, please get Employee's coat from his desk so we can finish this up." Manager, relieved, left the room.

I opened up the folder with the two copies of the termination paperwork, and passed them across the table to Employee with a pen. "Please sign both copies and keep one," I requested. "Sure, no problem," Employee replied, and scribbled his signature on both documents. He slid one of the documents back to me, and folded his hands as if he had just bought a house. I was intrigued. "I want to commend you for how professionally you've handled this conversation," I began. "Not the way this conversation usually goes." Employee shrugged. "Why burn a bridge?" he replied. "You've all treated me well, it's the least I can do given the situation." Employee's authenticity invited me to transform my role in the conversation. "Manager tells me that while you're smart, you hated the clerical work you were doing. What is it that you'd really like to do?" It was Employee's turn to be surprised. "No one's ever asked me that before," he replied. "I have 15 credits left to finish my Associate's degree in Graphic Arts - I want to be a Graphic Artist." There was the answer. Bad job fit. I leaned across the table, finding myself, surprisingly, in mentoring mode. "Do yourself a favor," I replied. "Finish your degree, and get a job doing what you love to do. Clearly, you've learned what happens when you take a job hating what you do." He laughed. "Clearly!" The door opened, and Manager entered the conference room with Employee's coat. I stood up, and extended my hand. Employee shook my hand. "Thank you," he said. "No, thank you," I replied. "Best of luck to you." Manager shook his hand too. "Take care," Manager said. "You too," Employee replied. "Thank you." Employee left the conference room. Manager looked at me. "Well, that was different," he said. "Yes," I replied. "He was a good guy in the wrong job. Hopefully, he'll go for the right job the next time."

How will you let go of resentment, take responsibility and move forward to succeed in business and at work this week, and in the new year?

Embrace the Fear and Take The Risk Anyway in Business and at Work

For a salesman who worked on 100% commission most of his career, my dad injected more of his own fear rather than encouragement of taking risk in the face of my own budding vocational interests. Given generational and gender factors (I was a girl, wife and mother-material, not career-material in his assessment), years later, I understand the limits of my father's assessment context. On top of those factors, Dad had always been an employee, albeit one paid on 100% commission. And the icing on the fear was that fact that his own dad had died when he was only 17 years old.

When I was twelve years old, I signed up with my mother's permission to sell household products from some long-forgotten mail-order company, while Dad was away on a business trip. I showed early indications of Dad's sales DNA and actually made 4 sales on our block in my first few days. When Dad came home from the business trip later that week, I proudly showed him my sales slips. He reviewed them like an IRS auditor, frowning. "You calculated the sales tax wrong," he said, pointing to the columns on one sales slip. "You're too young to do this. You need to return this money and send the sales kit back." I was surprised. "Why?" I replied. "I can just go back to each customer and fix the sales slip." Dad went into his Marine-sergeant mode. "No! This is not a discussion. I will not have you embarrassing me with your mistakes." I went back to my new customers, apologized for bothering them, and sent the kit back as I was told.

When I was 15 years old, I took a job for the summer as a counselor at a reputable sleep-away camp 15 miles from our house. In order to get the campers to bed at a reasonable hour, the camp did not observe daylight-savings time. I made the mistake of calling home at 10 PM one night from the camp director's office, as for us at camp it was only 9 PM. Dad was upset and concerned. "Why are you still up, working so late?" He demanded. I explained the artifice of not observing daylight-savings time. Dad did not buy it. "I'm coming to pick you up and take you home now," Dad decreed over the phone. I did not take his supervision this time. "No Dad, I'm staying here. I like it and they're not over-working me. Please don't embarrass me." My father paused, and I looked over at the camp director. "Could you please explain to my dad how we handle daylight-savings time?" The camp director smiled. "Of course," he said. He took the phone and spoke to my father for a few minutes (they had met when my parents dropped me off at camp earlier in the week), repeating the daylight-savings time explanation. The camp director handed the phone back to me. "You can stay," my father decreed, grudgingly.

When I graduated from the University at Albany, I did not return to the New York City / metropolitan area to look for a job. Instead, I took a part-time job with my senior-semester internship boss Bob, my home Assemblyman, and a part-time job at Macy's. "I don't understand why you just don't come home and get a real job in the city," my father groused on the phone. "Because I want a job as a writer, and it's cheaper to live in Albany than it is to live in New York City," I replied. "Don't worry Dad, I'll be fine." And I was. It took about 10 years, but Dad finally realized that we have real jobs up here in Albany, too.

In both my career and in my business, the risks I continue to take while embracing (and sometimes wrestling with) the natural / nurtured fear is the lotus I harvest from the mud of fear time after time -- it is a drive that I cannot deny. It continues to get better as time goes on and the more I practice and see the undeniable proof of the great results I produce. As my good friend and colleague Lisa Jordan maintains, when we come from a place of fear, the expression of our gifts and talents are limited, and no one benefits. But when we come from a place where fear takes a back seat to the wonderful creative potential of risk, even in the face of potential failure or embarrassment: that's where the potential of success is limitless.

This week, and going forward: I celebrate our collective courage (e.g.: taking action in the face of fear) and joy in the risks we take in both business and at work, in support of our mutual success.

Teach and Be Prepared to Learn at Work and in Business

I returned to my roots during my Fourth of July vacation this year. For the first time since I was a teenager, I was a camp counselor at an overnight camp for kids going into their fourth grade to senior high-school years; and I participated in a theater group. My husband Joel was one of my co-Counselors, teaching art to the high school division; our son Noah attended as a camper in the younger division; and I was Theater Counselor-in-Training for the high school division.

We all had a great time, and it was my best camp experience ever. Partial credit goes to the quality of the camp, Ferry Beach UU Camp; the high school division Coordinators, Mindy and Donald; our lead Theater Counselor, Eric; and the talented Theater Track campers. While I coached, encouraged and co-taught, my learnings simultaneously were rich and profound. For most of our week together, Eric had me participate as a student, similar to a graduate student. So I often partnered with our students in acting exercises, learning along with the students. Here are some of my lessons learned:

• With the confidence of an adult life lived (career, family, business, etc.) unlike my uncertain teenage self, I could now perform without bursting into a self-conscious and fearful fit of giggles every time I was asked to act in a role. I was able to consistently and completely focus acting any given role, because I cared more about the learning moment than what the other kids thought of me, or not.
• I marveled at the abundance of acting / musical talent and confidence displayed by our students, which inspired me to take more risks and stretch myself out of my comfort zone, including but not limited to re-engaging my love of singing while accompanying myself on guitar. I'm proud to report that my guitar calluses have re-emerged after a long hiatus.
• Love is the answer. The values and structure of our camp consistently lifted up our students and their creativity, creating a safe foundation which allowed them to soar. I went on a couple of rides with them, so to speak.
• It was okay to experiment, fail and try again. In fact, it was mandatory. And the talents of our students were burnished and shone even more.
• Practice, practice, practice. It builds confidence, not necessarily perfection. And that confidence is where creativity and often leadership flourishes and expands.
• We felt the fear and did it anyway. We wrote monologues and performed them for each other, with varying degrees of risk and discomfort. How important it was to express and witness each other's internal music.
• Whether we pursue theater as a career or not, everything we learned together last week was applicable. My gift to the students was to create a crosswalk between our theatrical lessons and their potential application in business, e.g. presenting to business groups, interviews, sales pitches etc. No lessons wasted here, every learning is applicable for future success.
• In order to learn and renew vocationally and creatively, it's important to get out of your routine and environment.
• The most important lesson: every opportunity to teach is also an opportunity to learn something new from your talented students / team. A wonderful symbiotic gift.

What did / will you teach and learn on your summer vacation?

   

Declare Your Independence in Business and at Work

I must admit, I'm a bit sentimental about the Fourth of July holiday, e.g. patriotic. It annoys my husband Joel ever so slightly, sometimes reminding him of more rigid, intolerant and oppressive flag-waver types, and for that reason questions the authenticity of wearing red, white and blue as an expression of freedom given the occasional abuse of power.

However, I'm not that type of flag-waver. My patriotism - and pursuit of happiness and autonomy, in my career and in my business - is grounded more in gratitude. Gratitude for those generations who came before me, making my life so much better today than it clearly was for them. Grateful for my great-great-grandmother Katie Markowitz of blessed memory, married at 15 years old and a mother at 16 years old. Who, according to the 1900 census, emigrated to Manhattan from Moscow, Russia with her two oldest children in steerage for what was definitely not a luxury cruise for nearly 3 weeks in 1896, following her husband Davis of blessed memory who had emigrated before her almost 2 years earlier, arriving with little more than a few clothes and no job or business. My own private refuse of foreign shores. Who proceeded to have four more children, including my grandfather Joseph of blessed memory, also known as Markie, who died years before I was born at the age of 51. When Katie died, and of what, we don't know; however, I suspect she died young from a hard life of poverty and childbirth / child-rearing thereof.

Gratitude for my great-grandmother Rose of blessed memory, who's husband Abe, my great-grandfather of blessed memory, died in the 1918 influenza epidemic just a little less than 15 years after they both emigrated here from Austria as young teenagers, also with very little in the way of personal belongings and no jobs: but in search of a better quality of life and more personal freedom.

I found out only eight years ago that Rose, a master needle-worker, subsequently opened her own notions store on the Lower East Side after Abe's death, to support her two sons, Nat and Eddie. My granddaddy Nat of blessed memory was my son Noah's age, 11 years old, at the time of his father's death, and he quit school to get a job to help support the family. In the tradition of my tribe, Noah is named for Nat.

My ancestors of blessed memory came to the United States to find a better life for themselves, their children and their grandchildren, leaving everything and everyone they knew, taking the risk and arriving with nothing but their smarts and their stamina. In the process, they learned and worked hard at their trades; to build careers; to run their businesses; with the hope that their children and their grandchildren would find even more blessings. We did. Thank you for bringing our families here to live and thrive.

As one of their children, I have been blessed with great opportunities and a wonderful career that has forged the strengths of the person I am today. In honor of the 2012 Fourth of July holiday, I am proud to follow the path of my ancestors with the blessing of enough client work to step full-time into my consulting business, Deb Best Practices - in the arch of my combined family history, one of the mildest of risks to date, indeed.

For my colleagues, friends and family: I wish for you the authentic prosperity of your own independence and autonomy, born of those who came before us to bring us to this moment: to express the vocational music within you, whether you are in a career job or your own business, or both. As my friend Barry would say: "Nike! Just do it!"

 Happy Independence Day!

Teach Your Children Well in Business and at Work

I like to tell my son Noah, who turns eleven years old next month, that he attended business meetings with me long before he was born. A bit more jaded now that he's experienced the Family Health unit at the end of his 5th grade career (and on the brink of adolescence: sniggering like Beavis and Butthead over even mild / unintended innuendos), he just asked me recently to tell him the story again. "You had the hiccups constantly, that's when I knew you were awake," I recalled. "I would start giggling a bit in the middle of a meeting, because your hiccups were both powerful and distracting." Although Noah grimaced, I knew he loved the story.

Adolescence aside, Noah's formative years have definitely been different from those of his parents.

Just like Joel's and my formative years were different from our parents. My dad made the happy mistake of taking me to the office at the age of four one Saturday morning to give my pregnant mother a break. That visit - and the subsequent breakfast together at a diner, full of other working stiffs - sealed the deal. So that's where the money came from to buy the Good Humor ice cream, I concluded as I watched Dad pay the bill for our breakfast with dollar bills instead of the Good Humor dimes I usually handled. I wanted a job from that day forward. Fifteen years later, on a hot and aggravating journey north to start my freshman year at SUNY Albany with the initial goal of a double Pre-Med / English major, my father, ignorant of how he had contributed to my journey fifteen years earlier, clearly thought I was wasting my time and my student loan money with a line straight out of Mad Men, repeating the script my mother, his freshly-ex-wife, had followed. "Why aren't you staying home, getting a job, getting married and having kids?" Without missing a beat and a bit taken aback, I replied: "That would involve a date, which I haven't had yet. I'll keep you posted."

As I journey with Noah through his childhood, I marvel at how different his path is from mine and wonder how the mixed influence of witnessing both the career and entrepreneurial adventures of his parents will influence his own career and business decisions.

At the age of five, Noah wanted to be a chef and run his own business: Best Performance Bistro. He talked about it all the time to everyone - his grandparents, his kindergarten teacher, us. I made a sign for his dream business; it hangs to this day on the wall of my office:

Last year, Noah and his friend Frankie spent a Saturday afternoon on a video game company business plan, with Frankie as the CEO and Noah as his second-banana. Noah did not want to be Frankie's second-banana.

As Noah experienced school rules (particularly when a few of his buddies did not follow the rules), I reinforced the learning with an HR geek's eye to the future. "It so important to learn how to follow the rules in school. Because if children don't learn how to follow the rules in school, I usually end up firing them as adults," I hammered home, as Noah listened, wide-eyed.

Noah's career and business vision continues to evolve. He experiments with "Let's Play" videos, which in turn have strengthened his presentation skills to the point where his elementary school principal suggested that Noah consider a career in broadcasting. It's all good fodder for learning marketing on-the-job. Noah is also developing a video game and composing the accompanying soundtrack music, for separate potential sale on Steam. We love his energy, ingenuity, and of course, him. His current goal is:

• Go to a 2-year SUNY college and take computer science, business and culinary arts courses;
• Finish his degree at a 4-year SUNY college (or at the Culinary Institute of America, if he gets a scholarship);
• Work for someone else first before a) starting his own successful video game software company and b) then, once he makes his fortune, opening his own gourmet pastry shop.

Noah is working on a new business plan where he is the CEO of his own video game software company, and his pals Charlie and Tim are part of his leadership team. I'm tentatively slated as the Chief Administrative Officer, grateful to achieve one of my goals to be part of the leadership bench plan of a start-up company. Per his request, I've also shared the business plan for The Best Framing Company, which his father and I worked on together 7 years before Noah was born.

As his parents, Joel and I do our best to also give Noah the gift of authenticity: to see us as fellow creative humans as well as his parents and mentors, taking risks and experiencing, like Edison, the occasional creative failures almost always in stride. For to do otherwise would stifle the music that streams from within each of us that must be expressed / shared. I can't wait to see what Noah cooks up as he approaches adulthood. I'm honored to witness his journey, as we Bests continue to mentor each other.

Innovation and Growth in Work and Business Love a Vacuum (Breakdown)

My husband Joel's business, The Best Framing Company, celebrates its 18-year anniversary this month.

The Best Framing Company was conceived early in 1994 when the owner (Joel's boss at the time) of the local Deck-the-Walls franchise decided not to renew his 10-year franchise. Before he closed the store down, the franchise owner offered Joel and me the opportunity to renew the franchise for $350,000, at a 6% interest rate. The franchise owner offered to hold the 10-year note, and we would make the astronomical and discouraging monthly payments to him, with little hope of making any profit. No, thank you. Joel had had enough of mall working life. And we had just purchased our first home, so our savings account was a bit thin and our bills were much more substantial. Joel and his boss proceeded to make arrangements to close the store by April 1994, and Joel commenced his job search, a bit discouraged at the thought of working for one of the competitors.  

That offer from Joel's boss sparked an idea. Why not open our own store, in a small strip mall, and Joel could make his own hours? As a skilled custom picture-framer, Joel had a healthy client list of happy customers. Armed with that unique selling proposition and our respective skill sets and smarts, Joel and I proceeded to complete the four months of research and legwork to build a business plan to obtain a Small Business Administration (SBA) loan to open The Best Framing Company's bricks-and-mortar storefront.

By the time Joel was laid off, we completed the business plan. Joel continued his job search and fixed up our new 1944 house while I shopped our 40-plus-page business plan around to SBA loan providers.

One of the local nonprofits at the time ran an SBA loan program: I sent the business plan to the nonprofit, and the 21 year-old pisher loan coordinator said that 1) our business plan was great; and 2) we were a shoe-in to get our loan. The Pisher assured us we would be on the May 1994 loan review committee agenda. Armed with that information, I made arrangements to lease a store space effective June 1, 1994 and order the materials Joel would need to open the store, using a $6,000 credit union line-of-credit.

The day before the loan review meeting, I called the Pisher to ask when we would appear. "Oh," he said, rightfully embarrassed. "I forgot to put your loan review on the agenda. He heard me choke. "But don't worry," he hurriedly said, hoping to avoid my expected outburst. "We can get you on the July agenda. I was deadly and sadly, calm. "You've just put my husband and me into financial jeopardy," I carefully said. "What are you going to do to fix this?" The Pisher did not man up. "I'm sorry, there's nothing we can do," he said. "But let me give you the phone number of Manny Choi at Fleet Bank, who is on our loan committee. He may be able to help you." I hung up the phone and cursed loudly, dropping F-bombs for 15 minutes straight. When I was done, and calm again, I called Manny Choi.

 He agreed to meet me the next morning. I did not sleep at all that night. And while I'm not normally a crier, I cried bitter tears all night long. Joel tried to console me, but I was inconsolable. "Who the hell do I think I am," I wailed to Joel. "What business do I have thinking that I can put together a business plan?" Now I've pushed us deeper into debt. $6,000 will not cover all of the initial carrying costs. I'm so sorry I've gotten us into this!"

Joel knew better. "It's a great plan, and we'll get a loan somewhere else, I know we will," he said, 110% solid in his belief in my abilities, and his own. "We can definitely do this." I took a much-need break from the tears, sniffling. "You're just saying that because you love me," I said, whimpering a bit around the edges - also unlike me. Joel hugged me. "No, I'm not," he said, firmly. "I would tell you if I thought we should quit. We haven't explored all of our options yet."

The next morning, calm from lack of sleep and all cried out, I donned my best blue navy suit and met with Manny Choi. I watched him for nearly 45 minutes as he read all 40 pages of our business plan, occasionally nodding. He closed the plan, and looked up at me. "What do you think?" I asked him. He smiled. "I think we can get you a loan. I'll just need current résumés for you and Joel. You have a good plan here." I exhaled. Joel was right. We got the loan.

As I learn and grow incrementally wiser from these wonderful adventures, I'm quicker to remember my Daddy's advice: if you make 30 calls and you get one sale, you're doing well. In order to start The Best Framing Company, we only needed to make two calls before we got the sale. Or as my friend Barb Wisnom would say: just try and collect 20 "no's." We were only able to collect one "no" before we got the "yes!"

Good hunting for your "yes's" this week, and every week. And savor the creativity and growth that you will produce when faced with the vacuum of a breakdown. For that - and you - are the gift and the breakthrough in the face of every breakdown.

 Happy Anniversary, hon!  

Focus the Strengths of Your Own Team of Avengers at Work

Warning Before Reading: Spoiler Alert for the movie The Avengers.

Joel, Noah and I saw The Avengers this weekend. It was a great movie on a number of levels, the best movie we've seen as a family in a long time. Of course, what delighted me personally were the plot elements that addressed The Avengers often-exciting and frankly chaotic team-building process - it was more of a series of brawls than a process. Their storming phase included but was not limited to the triggering of weapons of mass destruction and destroying large swaths of New York City. No time or patience for an HR geek to facilitate the Avengers through the universal development phases that all teams experience. Movie or reality: chaos is definitely the more common state.  

When I attended and subsequently taught facilitation training at GE, one of the optional overnight homework assignments was to ask the class to watch 12 Angry Men: not only a great flick with a wonderful ensemble cast, but also a great "show me, don't tell me" way of absorbing the challenges and rewards of developing and working with high-performing teams.  

The Avengers is more complex and nuanced than 12 Angry Men, however. The plot thread of the marginalization and eventual integration of Dr. Bruce Banner / The Hulk as one of the Avengers is a team effectiveness nugget to note.

As we're re-introduced to Bruce Banner, he's banished himself from his life's work and from any stress triggers to keep The Hulk from making an appearance. He can't even off himself to escape his volatile burden: he and his alter-ego the Hulk are both indestructible. Bruce is self-deprecating and at times ashamed: the last time he was in New York City, he sheepishly admits that he "broke Harlem" and was not quite welcome back there.

Some of the Avengers keep their distance: Nastasha Romanov (The Black Widow) and Tony Stark (Iron Man) however immediately engage him as a respected colleague who they admire and want to get to know better.

Of course, The Hulk subsequently returns and wreaks havoc and destruction in his usual psychopathic way. The rest of The Avengers are similarly challenged, by both external and internal demons, not unlike what the Hulk experiences.

However, when the going got tough, the Avengers regrouped as a tough team and got going. Captain America marshaled The Avengers, doling out assignments; for example, Tony Stark was charged with repair and engineering work while fighting off alien enemies swarming like killer bees. When he got to Hulk's assignment, Cap directed him to "Hulk: Smash!" Hulk grinned and there was a sea change: Cap not only acknowledged Hulk as a team member and "saw him;" Cap also asked Hulk to take his strength and use it for the good mission of the team.

Hulk subsequently teamed with Thor and saved Tony Stark, and got his confidence back in the process: while the punch he gave Thor after they defeated their group of bad guys was not appropriate behavior for the workplace, for The Avengers' comic-book work environment and norms, it signaled that Bruce / Hulk had come in from the margins and regained his confidence in his abilities and his contribution. The team saw it and he saw it. When there work was done and one team member asked him how he kept his anger (and the Hulk) at bay, Bruce grinned confidently and declared that "he was always angry;" e.g., that the Hulk was always there, a part of him, and clearly he embraced that as a strength and a contribution.

Which made the last scene after the credits all the more delightful: The Avengers, sitting together in a destroyed NYC deli, have a quiet sandwich together.

You know you've made it as a team when you can share a quiet meal together without the need to chat.

How will you marshal the strengths of your own team of Avengers - inviting them in from the margins, self-imposed or otherwise - to support your mutual success at work and in your business?

Your Leadership Presentation for Every Audience at Work

Dress shabbily, they notice the dress. Dress impeccably, they notice the woman.
 

-Coco Chanel

First, a disclaimer: I'm not a professional stylist, or, by a long shot, the best-dressed professional I know. Nor would I compare myself to Coco Chanel. I learned the quote from one of my all-time favorite movies, Working Girl. I'm just another blue-collar girl from Queens who acts on her dreams using her smarts. Like most of us, I learned from experience to dress professionally enough for each situation to the extent where the focus was on my smarts and not on what I was wearing.

Which is why I loved working at the GE plant where the main manufacturing ingredient was a diluted acid running in pipes overhead. In that environment, the only practical uniform for men and women alike was safety glasses, metal-toed safety shoes, dirt-streaked jeans, polo shirts and hard hats with our last names on the front. I felt right at home; and my Granddaddy Nat, a skilled electrician who passed away before I graduated from college, would have been proud of me.

The Vice President of Human Resources for my GE business, not so much. I had been invited to attend a meeting for promotable women managers at Headquarters facilitated by the VP of HR. I did have enough sense at that point in my career to wear clean clothes (dress pants, no jeans), regular shoes and glasses sans my beloved hardhat. We were told that the dress code for the meeting was business casual. However, the Headquarters version of business casual was clearly a step up from our plant-level definition of business casual. They all wore blazers. I wore a sweater.

My beloved boss and mentor Bill coached me the very next day, displaying minimally the discomfort of a male-to-female dress-code coaching discussion. "The VP of HR liked you," Bill began. "Great!" I said, starting to leave. Bill waved me back into the chair. "However, he didn't know how smart you were until you opened your mouth." I was puzzled. "What do you mean?" I asked. Bill paused. "He liked you a lot, which is why he asked me to speak to you about your executive presentation, in the spirit of supporting your career path and ongoing success." I was still confused. "So he liked the way I talked but he has an issue with my executive presentation? I don't understand." Bill got to the point. "He had an issue with the way you looked." Great, here I am back in high school. I started to pick up my planner to leave. "Bill, if this is going to be a discussion about my weight or the fact that I'm no great beauty, let's please not go there." Bill was a bit taken aback. He down-shifted into Queens, my native vernacular. "Stop being a pain in the ass and sit down," he directed. I sat, subdued. He leaned over the desk. "When is the last time you wore a blazer to work?" he queried. Oh, I wasn't wearing the right uniform for that group - that was the issue. "When I interviewed for my job here," I replied sheepishly. Bill smiled. "Point taken," I continued. "I will take care of it immediately." Bill leaned back in his chair, relieved and proud. "Thank you, I knew you would." I hightailed it to the store right after work that day and bought four new suits. A bit much, but I needed to make up for lost leadership presentation / credibility.

How you dress at work demonstrates your vocational choice as well as your situational leadership: whether you dress so you'll be noticed for your talents or skills; or whether you dress like the executives because you aspire to be an executive; or whether you proudly wear your hardhat so the guys in the plant won't think you're a stuck-up elitist. Or Madonna.

Effectively Managing the Ebbs & Flows in Business & At Work

I had a 3-hour breakfast meeting with my mentor John yesterday. Our mentoring relationship cuts both ways: from a business / career standpoint, John is my big brother, e.g. I want to be like him when I grow up; and I am a Human Resources SME resource to him. We mentor each other from our respective SME places, and it works well.

Our mentoring kicked off 3 years ago when John invited me to breakfast and asked me if I had ever thought about working for myself. A fellow GE alum who took the entrepreneurial plunge 20 years ago himself during an economic ebb (Or as I like to call it, a ride to the Recession Rodeo), he saw the same potential in me, for which I am eternally grateful. When a mentor appears in your path and reflects back what's in your heart and mind, unsolicited: well, that's the gift that keeps on giving.

My query for John this week was how he managed the ebbs and flows of his work and business. Our GE training especially geared us not to accept ebbs at all. My Energizer-Bunny belief system heretofore was all flow. John improvised a wave to emphasize his point to me. "It ebbs and flows all the time, it goes up and down all the time," he said. I scowled. "I don't like the ebbs at all," I replied. He grinned at me. "Get over it and move forward," he coached. "That's what my board of advisers always tells me; and you have to accept the ebbs, too. Shake it off and move on." So that's my vocational meditative focus this week: accepting the ebbs and not letting them define my strategic path and goals. His advice works for both entrepreneurs and career employees:

• Ebbs, in business and in work, are a fact of life to be accepted / embraced;
• Build up a great cash reserve (2 years or more is optimum) during the flow times (e.g. live and manage your business below your means, want what you have, etc.);
• An advisory board is an essential anchor for both the ebb and flow times;
• Be grateful and accept the gift of the flow times;
• Always have prospective clients and new products in pipeline during both the ebb and flow times;
• Don't take the ebbs personally;
• Use the ebb times as an opportunity to reflect, recalibrate your strategy; re-charge professionally and personally (e.g. Sharpening the Saw, a la Stephen Covey); refresh your marketing and business plans. (My friend and colleague Lisa Jordan seconded this emotion, too.)

Gratitude today for my fellow travelers along the River of Dreams: thank you for your presence in both the ebbs and flows, as we journey together and support each other's success.

What We Have Here is an Opportunity to Communicate at Work

My friend and colleague Lisa gave a seminar on the Enneagram last night:  in some ways, I find it a deeper dive on the Myers-Briggs assessment. Lisa uses it in her practice, The Right Fit Coaching.  

Whether you're using the DISC, Myers-Briggs, Enneagram or other instrument to determine communications styles, I have found that such instruments can turn personality conflict issues into more objective discussions of individual style and consequently how to most effectively navigate and communicate through our respective differences, especially in the workplace.

Early in my HR career, my HR teammates Steve and George appeared solemnly at my office door threshold.  They filed in, shut the door and each took a seat in front of my desk.  "What's up, guys?" I queried.  This was an unexpected visit.  George began.  "Deb, we like you and we think you're very smart."  Steve nodded in agreement.  "Because we like you, we're here to give you some advice to support your success,"  George continued. 

I leaned forward in my chair.  I respected George and Steve as well, and I was learning a lot from them.  "Okay, I'm all ears,"  I replied.  Steve shifted uncomfortably in his chair and looked at George.  George smiled at me.  "Bluntly, you're a show-off and a career-climber."  I was a bit taken aback and not quite comprehending the feedback.  George, Steve and I were all wearing safety glasses, metal-toed safety shoes, dirt-streaked jeans, polo shirts and hard hats.  Somehow, I envisioned a more glamorous environment (a la Katherine Hepburn in Adam's Rib) with accompanying wardrobe accoutrements for dialogue like this.  "What do you mean?"  I sputtered.  "I don't understand."

Steve spoke up.  "At every staff meeting, you have to talk about your latest HR challenge,"  he clarified.  "We work on the same issues and you don't see us talking about our work."  I was still confused.  "I talk about my HR challenges because I'm looking for your feedback and coaching:  that's how I learn,"  I explained.  "I'm sorry if you think I'm showing off.  I'm sharing with the purpose of learning from each other."  Both George and Steve looking at my face, then at each other.  "I believe what you're saying," George continued.  "But we both find it irritating.  Can you at least not talk as much?" 

"Sure,"  I replied, still puzzled about the formal chat.  "I enjoy working with both you."  George rose to leave, and Steve followed suit.  "Great!"  George said.  "Thanks for the time."  I was still processing the conversation.  "Wait, before you go:  could we talk to Bill (our boss) about this?"  George and Steve looked at each other.  "In the spirit of supporting our work together."  I continued.  George smiled, and nodded.  "Yes, that's a good idea,"  he replied.  They both left.  I rose from my desk and went to Bill's office.

"What am I doing wrong?"  I asked Bill after I shared my recent visit from George and Steve.  Bill thought for a moment.  "Have you ever taken the Myer-Briggs assessment?" Bill asked.  "Yes, a couple of years ago,"  I replied.  "I'm an ENTJ."  Bill smiled.  "Don't worry, I'll take care of it,"  he replied.

And Bill did take care of it, in short order.  He arranged for a Myers-Briggs team building session for our HR team with an outside consultant who was certified to administer the Myers-Briggs assessment.  Turns out I was the only Extrovert (E) on my team (Myers-Briggs E's think and talk at the same time) while the rest of the team, including George and Steve, were Myers-Briggs Introverts (Is) who think and then talk:  sometimes, not until the next day.  And that my type, the ENTJ, represented only 3% of the entire population; and only 1% of all women were ENTJs.  And the success profile at my organization was ISTJ.  And finally:  that ENTJ was not a typical Myers-Briggs profile for HR professionals.  For example, Steve Jobs was an ENTJ.  "So," our Myers-Briggs consultant explained, "Deb is a contrast when compared to the rest of the team, where Introverts are the norm.  Now that you all know that, you can focus on the facts, rather than the personalities."

The Monday morning after the HR team-building, George and Steve appeared at my office threshold again, and sat down, definitely with a different tone.  Steve spoke first this time.  "We wanted to apologize for accusing you of being a climber," Steve said.  "We know now that it's the way you're wired, and that's not your intention," George added.  I smiled back at both of them.  "Thank you, I really appreciate that," I replied.  "However, I'm also now aware that I'm the equivalent of fingernails on a chalkboard for both of you, based on our profiles.  It's also my responsibility to manage myself with both of you, and modulate accordingly."

And in typical Myers-Briggs Introvert style, they both smiled, nodded, said nothing, and got on with their day.  And so did I.

The Meritocracy is Dead: Long Live the Value Proposition!

I spent a good part of the day on Saturday in a mini-retreat with my Mastermind group, Professional Women's Network.  A mixture of business owners and executives, our discussion turned to the well-worn and tiresome workplace variation on the Just World Theory:

If I work really hard, and do a great job, I'll get:
a)  The job of my dreams
b)  The promotion
c)  A larger raise than anyone else
d)  More clients / customers than I can handle
e)  All of the above
f)   Fill in the blank.

We had a lively discussion about how misleading a belief system this is from both a career and an entrepreneurial perspective.  "I've had to ask for every promotion I've ever gotten," one member remarked, and the rest of us agreed.  In my case, I have always put together a short presentation for the decision-maker on the value (money saved, money earned, etc.) that I had accomplished for the organization in the last year and would accomplish in the upcoming year, thanks to my father's sales mentoring early in my career.  Depending on the size of the metrics, I invariably get a larger raise, a promotion, or both.  The key is to ask the decision-maker for the order with the facts and figures that have and will meet / exceed the decision-maker's needs.

The If I work really hard, and do a great job, I'll get: belief system is academic in origin and even becoming outdated in that paradigm.  Instead of just teaching our 10 year-old son Noah to work hard and get good grades, he is also learning that those efforts can't happen just for their own sake or in the narrow vacuum of the student's magical thinking.  Noah is witnessing through the work of his parents (Joel and I), that the hard work and great results must first happen in the context of always meeting / exceeding customer needs:  whether the customer is one employer or the many customers of his family's business.

When there is that context - when there is clear customer agreement on exactly what hard / great work and precise, metric-based results will receive rewards / renumeration, it will be then that the workplace will truly become a marketplace (or propel us into the larger marketplace as evolving entrepreneurs) for us all to profit from the valuable products, both tangible and SME-based, that we all have to offer.

In my book, that beats getting the highest grade on a test, hands-down.

HALT Manic Mondays at Work

80% of success is showing up.

                                                                                                         - Woody Allen

I've been an HR practitioner twice as long as my tenure as Noah's mother.  So yes, I'm often guilty of front-loading my parenting to ensure Noah's success in whatever career (Chef / Restauranteur or Video Game Mogul at the moment) that he chooses.

With Noah, the basic blocking-and-tackling of teaching him the commitment of showing up is fairly easy.  On school nights, especially Sunday nights, his bedtime is a hard-stop of 9:30 PM, no matter how well he makes his case to the contrary.  On Monday mornings, if he's not already awake, he must extricate himself from bed by 6:30 AM to be ready at the bus stop by 7:30 AM.  (And yes:  he's wide awake by 6 AM on weekend mornings on his own. Sigh.)  

On those occasionally difficult mornings when he resists and growls at us like a rabid squirrel and hides under blankets all over the house, Joel and I consistently move Noah along, instruct him to cease and desist the PITA behavior and reinforce his responsibility to stick to his schedule, whether it's getting himself ready for the bus stop, practicing his violin or completing his homework.  His future employer (or, if he goes into business for himself, his future employees) will thank us one day.

Noah's newest challenge linked to the milestone of turning 10 years of age is to start managing these tasks himself so Joel and I can eventually be relieved of our nagging duties.  (Well, you know I'm an eternal optimist.) 

It is my parenting experience that is gradually eroding my already minimal tolerance for adults less able than my 10 year-old son to manage themselves similarly in preparation for the work week / work day.  I'm not your attendance mother, and now, more than ever, I don't want to be your attendance hall monitor.

Calling in sick and/or being late consistently on Mondays is a worn-out workplace cliche'.  At minimum, you're in danger of violating your workplace attendance policy and eventually getting fired. Or suspected of having too much fun over the weekend to drag yourself responsibly into work.  Most importantly, it damages your reputation in that you're eventually labeled as unreliable and therefore expendable.   Which is not the type of workplace attention you seek. 

So do us all a favor:  keep your HALT (Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired) needs front and center on your radar the night before a work day.  Think of them as base Maslow's hierarchy of success needs that are well within your control to manage.

Some tips on consistently showing up physically to the workplace are obvious but often ignored:

• Get enough sleep so you can wake up on time (or at all);
• Cut off your alcohol consumption to ensure at least 10 alcohol-free hours before work, if not more (Sober and chipper does start a Monday off right);
• Strive to eat well and exercise;
• If you're angry and/or lonely, get support from your friends, family or a professional or two.  Not in your workplace.  Don't Mess Your Nest.

Now, let's talk about those of you who do drag yourselves to work in spite of a raging case of HALT.   Especially on Monday mornings, operating on 3 hours of sleep, an unresolved fight with your spouse / ex-spouse, a raging hangover and a queasy, empty stomach:  do us all and yourself another favor:  don't inflict it on us.  While you may be present physically, you are entirely absent mentally, emotionally and spiritually. And that is most certainly not a recipe for career success.  The best thing you can do for your reputation and out of respect for the rest of your workplace team when you cannot or will not manage your HALT is to keep a low profile and keep your mouth shut.  No one deserves the detritus of your mismanaged HALT, including you.

Sweet dreams for a successful week!

Plan for Success

As I prepare to teach the opening workshop,  Leadership and Strategic Thinking, at the Rensselaer County Regional Chamber of Commerce Leadership Institute this week, I look forward to the breakthroughs that I invariably will witness from the students.

I've been teaching versions of this workshop for a number of years. And I don't just teach and facilitate strategic planning:  I believe in it and I practice it myself.  Every goal that I've written down, shared and on my own, from personal goals (e.g., giving birth to my son Noah) to career and business goals, I've achieved.

Not that the act of planning makes the path any easier:  there are always struggles and setbacks.  At times, the plan's timing is out of your control, and/or you may be paralyzed by fear, self-doubt, or worse.  However, with plan in hand, I see the rockiness of the path as a series of tests of my commitment to my created path. Particularly where no path exists, and I bush-whack through the wilderness, living the journey as Frost articulated:  it has made all the difference in my well-lived life and career.  And then I begin to understand why some of the most successful businesses of the 20th century started with just such an idea during the Great Depression.

Even more satisfying is watching the students (up-and-coming promotable leaders:  managers in larger organizations and well as entrepreneurs / business owners) solidify their plans, dreams and goals by writing them down and then mustering the courage to walk through their deceptive fear of failure to share those plans with their classmates and hopefully those key individuals outside the class who can become part of the team to implement those plans.  The act of manifesting (writing down) your goals and plans, and then sharing those goals and plans with trusted colleagues and advisors, is a powerful act indeed.

Don't underestimate the creative power of this planning process.  Once the wheels are set in motion, amazing things can and will happen to you.  Some examples from my past students are:

• Becoming a judge;
• Promotion to your dream job (FYI:  most of the time, you just need to present your proposal and ask);
• Starting your own successful business;
• Defining your own work / life balance rather than expecting your employer to do it for you;
• Getting the education / degree you've always dreamed of, but never shared with anyone.

Create your plan and write it down:  start with at least one goal.  Share it with your own Board of Directors.  Build your commitment; never, never, never, never give in.  Implement your plan.  And don't be surprised:  expect success.

One Employee's (Company's) Autonomy Dividends

Hi, my name is Deb and I'm a bookaholic.  I just reserved Daniel Pink's Drive online at my library's website, recommended by a contact in my network last week as a result of a wonderful discussion about autonomy at work. This is after I brought home 12 books from the Schenectady Library annual book sale yesterday.  And after I borrowed books from the Clifton Park Library earlier in the week.    The Mohawk Valley and Southern Adirondack Library systems may arrange for an intervention soon.   I blame it on my mother:  she brought me to the library every week and at the age of 9, starting recommending her favorite novels to me.

 Enough about my mother:  I'd like to tell you about John.

John was the CFO of the company I had just joined earlier in my HR career.  I reported to John, and within the first week discovered that I was the most experienced HR person in the company.  We were without a head of HR, so John quickly pulled me into the fray, coloring outside the lines of my stated job description.  I loved it.  Working for John was an MBA crash course, and I learned so much from him from the very beginning.  But the biggest gift that John gave me came 2 months into my tenure.

My previous company was a much larger international organization, with layers of HR and legal oversight.  We couldn't issue a disciplinary action without thorough legal review.  So naturally, I kept John abreast of every employee relations issue at every step:  I spoke to John at least twice a day.

At the two-month mark, during one of these updates, John stopped me. "Why do you come and talk to me so much?" he asked with his laser-blue stare, which served him well during vendor and M&A negotiations.  I didn't quite know how to respond.  "Well, " I said, "You're my boss.  I'm supposed to keep you updated.  I was trained to get at least one-over-one approval before taking any HR action."  John lowered the high-beams and relaxed a bit.  "Okay, that makes sense," he said.  "Because I initially thought it was due to a lack of confidence, yet I know you're very self-confident." I thought that was a compliment, but I wasn't sure. "Thanks?" I responded tentatively.

John leaned in and delivered the gift.  "Deb, here's the bottom line.  We hired you because you're smart and you know what you're doing.  You only need to update me if we have potential legal or financial exposure.  Otherwise, I trust you to do the right thing."  He leaned back.  "And if you make a mistake, just know that I've always got your back because you work for me."  I was blown away.  I grinned back at him.  "Thanks John.  I will not disappoint you."  He smiled slightly, and the high beams returned.  "Good.  Now get out of my office," he growled.  "I'm busy."

With that vote of confidence, I was hooked.  Not only did I love my job and the work that I did, it set me free to do my best work and to broaden my subject-matter expertise (SME) at the same time:  an opportunity that did not exist at my previous company with its layers of oversight.  There was little coaching from the layers of oversight management at my previous company to learn as a SME, since decisions were made above my head for me.  Consequently, I learned more working for John and the executive team than I ever had working for the bigger international company.  Without the multiple layers of oversight, I was often the SME decision-maker.  And if I was that SME, I was damned sure that I knew and learned all of the facts, laws and regulations before making those critical decisions and recommendations to the executive team.

During my long and satisfying tenure, John tasked me as the HR lead for a critical acquisition (which resulted in no legal exposure) and building the company's recruitment function, among many other projects that supported the company's bottom line.  It was a win-win that paid dividends to both me and my company, both financially and in engagement terms.

Good team members:  what have you done to earn and prove your ability to accept the responsibility and rewards of autonomy?

Good leaders:  what success (profit) would arise by trusting your SME employees to do the right thing, assuring your support even in the face of potential mistakes?


The potential for autonomy dividends is tantalizing indeed.

The Floods of Irene Bring Out the Best in This Team (Tribe) of Employees

I saw my friend and Entrepreneur Mentor at church today.  He had called me the Tuesday night after the 500-year flood of the Mohawk River retreated back to its banks from its historic trek to Erie Boulevard in downtown Schenectady and the building where his company of 20+ years is located.  He was facing possible relocation to drier temporary quarters (and potential suspension of business operations), as he did not yet know how extensive the damage was to the building where his company leased space.  He was concerned about his employees, and he called me for a reality check.

Dear Mentor had good news to report today as well as best-practice tidings of how his Employee Team rallied to support him and the business that supported all of their families. 

When it became clear that Hurricane / Tropical Storm Irene was going to cause epic flooding in downtown Schenectady, Dear Mentor called all of his employees after the storm subsided to ask their assistance in moving company-critical assets to safer ground before the Mohawk River reached and exceeded its flood stage.  It was Sunday, and it had not been a great day off at home for anyone, thanks to the effects of Irene.

Every member of Dear Mentor's Employee Team showed up that Sunday to help move the business assets, and they brought reinforcements:  some of them brought their adult children and friends to help as well.  They all worked until midnight that Sunday.  At midnight, his team wished him luck.  At that juncture, no one knew if Dear Mentor's business would be there after the flood.

After the State of Emergency was lifted in downtown Schenectady, Dear Mentor and his team were allowed back into their building to assess the damage.   The good news was that they didn't have to move the business out of the building; the challenging news was that the business space was full of mud and without power.

The next day, the Employee Team again demonstrated their resiliency and engagement under the adversity presented by mud and a lack of electricity:  they voluntarily brought their personal generators and power washers from their respective homes, and they got to work.  Dear Mentor was not only grateful for their generosity, but inspired by the joyful collaboration.  "It's not very often I get to witness these men enjoy the opportunity to let their inner boys come out and play as they used the power washers to get the mud out of the building," Dear Mentor remarked, his eyes sparkling through noticeable fatigue. 

As Dear Mentor shared his story, I knew it was his leadership and commitment that created the space for his Employee Team to rally and give of themselves to preserve their shared livelihood:  this in turn allowed the entire Employee Team to demonstrate the leadership stuff they are truly made of when faced with extreme adversity.

You can't get nuggets like this from an employee engagement survey.

More importantly (and thankfully), it was not a familial vibe:  Dear Mentor is not their dad, but their Chief.  Dear Mentor and his Employee Team are an interdependent tribe of business warriors, and they demonstrated their commitment, prowess, flexibility, personal investment and generosity in one of the worst situations a CEO (or a tribal leader) can face.

Now that's a tribe where I'd be honored to be counted as one of their warriors.

When the Workplace Student is Ready, The Teacher May Be An A**hole

"When the student is ready, the teacher will appear."


"When the workplace student is ready, the teacher who appears may be an asshole."

                                                                               
Guess which quote is from Queens, NY, like me?

The other source is Buddha, of course.

I'd like to thank Bob Sutton (author of the great workplace tome, The No-Asshole Rule) for helping me to express myself more authentically as a professional.  As Sutton asserts in his book and elsewhere, the word "jerk" doesn't quite capture the visceral experience of working with an asshole.

But what the hell do I mean?

That the assholes you encounter in the workplace are, more often than not, the teachers / gurus in your path to career excellence and success.

That the asshole who tries to demean you publicly in front of a large meeting can be a test of your belief in your talent, developing your resilency, diplomacy and leadership:  if you Keep Calm and Carry On, there's very little an asshole can latch on to, and they more often then not will, eventually, move on.  If they don't move on, you may need to move on:  only you know the limits of your stress tolerance and the standards for the quality of the work life you envision.

That the asshole who once tried to demean you may become your subordinate, and you can coach them towards compassion:  and if that fails to work, you can make them available to industry.  Sometimes time and consequences heal assholes, sometimes not.

That the asshole who tries to keep you out of the loop as punishment or power play, can be a test of how you can stay centered, continually discover your empathy for them and keep them completely in the loop in return.

That the asshole who gossips about and bad-mouths you in an attempt to destroy your reputation is actually extremely hurt and wounded themselves, and that their venom usually backfires into their own public substandard  performance review.  And that the compassion (and even love) you discover and display for the asshole can heal the world, one asshole at a time.

That the asshole who tries to bait you into a conflict to embarrass you publicly teaches you to more carefully choose your battles (e.g., how important is it) and to stand up factually, professional and functionally when it is a conflict worthy of your time, attention and talent.

That when the asshole has nothing left in their arsenal to hurt you, then they may be ready for a conversation where you are the teacher and they are the student (if they're ready and willing to listen).  Time can sometimes be the universal asshole-healer.

For as I learned as a diversity trainer and as a mediator:  meet ignorance with compassion; be prepared to be the teacher of inclusion; and keep your courage up to discover the real needs under the yelling of the asshole. 

Oh, and the most important learning of all:  don't let the assholes get you down at work; and don't become an asshole yourself to survive.

In that way, you are not only the eternal student of career success, but also the advocate of peace at work:  one asshole learning-opportunity at a time.

Work Friends Are Risky Rungs on the Career Ladder

"There are no such things as friends at work," my friend Barry declared to me one day a number of years ago, coaching me on a (now) minor work dilemma.  A mutual colleague at work, who I assumed was a friend of several years based on our warm sharings together about our child-rearing experiences, had just pulled a maneuver on me worthy of a cannibal cousin of the Borgia clan.  Frankly, and annoyingly, my feelings were hurt.

I uncharacteristically did not respond immediately, processing the paradox of his statement and a bit taken aback.  As we were both Logistics professionals, I responded logically.  "So we're not friends," I replied, a bit puzzled.   "No,"  Barry reiterated.

I started chuckling:  it worked, I snapped out of my moping.  "We eat lunch together at least twice a week; we travel together at least twice a month, and we hang out together voluntarily on non-work-related time.  So we're not friends?"  Barry shook his head, grinning.  "It's business, not personal," he said.

I rolled my eyes.  Here we go, about to take another trip to the Gender Gap.  Barry, however, would not let me off the hook.  "Here's the deal," he continued. "The bottom line is that results count.  We're here to produce, not to play.  You know that as well,  if not better, than I do."  I nodded, and Barry continued.  "That guy's always been an asshole when it comes to getting his work done.  He just needed to get work done, and it happened to be in your area, so it was your turn.  Plain and simple."

I thought for another minute about Barry's assessment.  "But you and I get our work done:  we knock heads occasionally, but the net is that we pull our results, have fun and we're not assholes to each other," I asserted.

"True," Barry agreed.  "It makes our work together more productive and pleasant.  But when the opposite happens, I accept it and move on.  I get the majority of support from my family and friends outside of work.  Now, I may have met some of my great friends at work:  however, it always better when I don't work with them."  Seeing me uncharacteristically quiet and pensive, Barry drove his point home. "As another example, I accept the fact that, while you and I are friends at work, I also know that you, as the HR Director, may someday be in a position to lay me off if our business starts tanking."  He grinned at me again.  "It's part of your job:  it's business, not personal.  The work comes first."

"So you do understand that, especially in my line of work, friendships are always a risk," I responded.  "I appreciate your feedback."  I grinned back at him.  "I'm still willing to take the risk."

Barry rose from his desk chair and put on his coat.  "Great, I'm done.  All this talking has made me hungry.  Let's go grab some lunch."

When You're an Employee, You Only Have One Customer

Ever since my father took me to the office one Saturday morning at the age of 4, I wanted a job.  It dawned on me:  so that's where the quarters and dollars Daddy doled out to me came from.  Cool.  Sadly, I was not invited back, as my fascination / love of technology with buttons also began with that visit:  I destroyed a large electronic adding machine by pressing too many buttons at once.  It was exciting, especially when it started smoking and whining.  I gained the reputation from that toddler experience with the male members of my family of being unreliable around machinery, which was totally unfounded and unfair.  Ask my husband Joel:  I am End-User Support for our house and can resurrect even the most hopeless computer fiascoes, most of the time.

So while most of my contemporaries in high school were wringing their hands next to the phone waiting for a boy to call for a date (or not), I engaged in the exact same ritual with a potential employer.

I asked my father for advice, as he was (and still is) a whiz at getting jobs.   It's always the same advice, it just took several decades to sink in:  "If you make 30 calls, and you get one sale, you're doing great,"  he'd dictate.  "What does that mean, Dad?"  I asked, confused.  "I'm not selling anything, I'm not a salesman."  Dad smiled.  "Yes, you are:  you're selling yourself.  And you know how to do it, because you're my daughter. You're just not concentrating."  I still didn't get it, clearly befuddled.  Dad spelled it out for me.  "Don't focus on one company:  apply to as many companies as you can.  That way, you increase your chances of getting a job, and you don't drive yourself crazy waiting for one guy to call you back and hire you.  Don't put all of your eggs in one basket."

Communication gap bridged, I got it.  It involved a lot more work applying and interviewing at many other companies, but it sure beat the soul- and energy-sucking anxiety of sitting next to the phone waiting for a call from just one potential employer.

Recently, as I was in the middle of a career coaching session with a good colleague, I took my father's advice one step further.  The presenting challenge was how to best frame a proposal to their manager (Read:  Customer) on their next career step up the organizational ladder, with the accompanying increase in compensation.  I coached Good Colleague that the proposal should meet both their needs as well as the profitability needs of their organization.  "What if my manager rejects my proposal?"  Good Colleague asked.  "Well, then maybe you've outgrown the organization, and it's time to look outside the organization,"  I replied.  Good Colleague was dismayed.  "But I don't want to leave the organization, I love it there," they said.  Good Colleague, like Dad, is in Sales / Business Development.

I thought for a moment.  "If that's the case, then you only have one Customer.  And from a business development standpoint, we all know how dangerous it is to bank your success on one Customer."  Good Colleague nodded.  "You don't have to necessarily leave the organization right now:  but there's nothing wrong with reaching out to colleagues in your industry, to ask their advice and grow new and existing relationships,"  I continued.  "At minimum, you'll make some great connections and build your reputation if your current manager ends up accepting your proposal, and at maximum, you'll be prospecting for new potential Customers.  It might be a job; it might be a project; or it might be a business that you'll start and grow.  The Customer potential is only limited by your willingness to try."

How many Customers do you have?  And are you keeping those Customer relationships warm and mutually rewarding by meeting everyone's profitability and success needs?

Banish Bitter and Blotchy From the Interview (Sales Call)

Several years ago, I sat at my company's booth at a large job fair. I was alone covering the booth as the other members of my recruiting team were out on a break.  

A job-seeker approached the booth:  a gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair, dressed in a nice navy suit, red silk tie, polished shoes, equipped with a leather portfolio and linen paper résumés.  On the outside, he looked great, quite hireable.  On the inside:  he was a mess and he proceeded to over-share with me (A career-long occupational hazard for me:  I'm a recruiter, among other SME gears, yet candidates more often than not mistake me for their therapist, whether it's on the phone or in person.).  "Hi!" he chirped, slapping one of his résumés on the booth counter.  "Need an accountant?"  I smiled back.  "Not at the moment.  However, I'd be happy to have your résumé in the event we need one in the future."  

His face fell, and he was visibly annoyed.  "It's because I'm 53, right?" he insisted.  He shook his head.  "It's why my boss let me go, and it's why I can't get hired:  no one wants to hire anyone over 40."  He began to walk away before I could even respond.  Usually, I'd let bitter-and-blotchy candidates like him go their miserable way.   The first candidate contact is like the first date:  candidates are (theoretically) on their best behavior, and hiring bitter-and-blotchy usually doesn't end well.   But he was clearly discouraged and clueless, not a winning combination.

"Excuse me, please don't walk away," I requested.  The job-seeker turned around, surprised.  "Are you talking to me?" he asked.  "Yes please, if you don't mind:  I can't leave the booth right now," I replied.  He came back to the booth, clearly curious.  

I leaned over the booth counter.  "I know why you're not getting hired.  Are you interested in hearing why?"  He nodded.  "You need to move past how your last boss hurt you, and let it go," I confided.  "And if you can't do it yourself, ask someone you trust to help you work on it, so you won't ever speak to a hiring manager like that again."  He was a bit stunned.  "I am hurt," he said, sadness replacing anger.  "I know," I replied gently.  "And it's stopping people from hiring you."

He paused for a moment.  "I've never had a recruiter speak to me like this before. I appreciate the feedback, but why are you telling me this?"

I smiled.  "Because you have a great résumé, and I just hired a 73 year-old last week."  

He laughed, and thought for a moment.  "Well, I have a good friend who's a Vice President of Human Resources:  I could buy him a cup of coffee and talk it through with him."

"Perfect, please do!"  I said,  extending my hand.  "Good luck."  He shook my hand.  "Thank you for telling me."  he said. "I appreciate your honesty."

I know what you're thinking:  how could this candidate not know the impact he was making with his bitter-and-blotchy presentation and baggage, especially spewing his grief and anger all over a hiring authority / decision-maker?   It's pretty simple:  a lot of folks are so verklempt over their losses and challenges that their feelings are driving the bus instead of their common sense and sales ability.  They're not focused on consciously managing their changes.

Change Management SME's emphasize that in order for people to effectively manage change, they must achieve some closure with the past and let it go, so they can move forward and resiliently embrace change.

Whether you're selling yourself in an interview, or selling your product to a potential customer (same thing in my reckoning),  leave the past and the bitter-and-blotchy attitude behind:  so you can move forward, close the sale and build your success.