Stretchy Pants – They’re Not Just for Women Anymore

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My first job out of grad school was working in the buying office of a major fashion retailer.  “Dressing for Success” took on a whole new meaning since it was expected that we would wear the clothes, look the part, walk-the-walk and talk-the-talk.  Every day was a fashion show at work, with everyone dressed in their finest. No such thing as wearing out-dated fashions; only the newest styles would do. This was a great environment for a fashionista like me, a natural-born shopper who always wanted (and still wants) to wear the latest trends.

At the time, the biggest challenge was having the money to purchase said trends.  After all, I had student loans and a car payment on top of normal living expenses, and my salary didn’t exactly match the price tags on the clothes.  Somehow I made it work and enjoyed strutting my stuff down the halls of the office as though I were on a fashion show catwalk.  Never mind that at the towering height of 5’2” I wasn’t anywhere close to being a model, at least I could pretend by wearing designer clothes.

Several companies later and my interest in wearing the latest fashions at work has calmed a bit.  Especially with the trend towards “business casual”, although I still haven’t quite figured out what that really means. I think it’s a secret code for “wear whatever you want”.  Even though I have become accustomed to “business casual”, I have always tried to be fashion-forward.

Then the lay-off hit and I began consulting, which meant working from home.  No longer would anyone see me strut my stuff at work.  Just the dog, and quite honestly, the only interest she’s ever shown in my clothing is to try and shed as much as possible on me.  In her mind, no outfit is complete unless it is accessorized by dog hair.

Because of the layoff I discovered what many of you who work from home already knew: it doesn’t matter what you wear at home.  Jeans, gym clothes – even PJ’s – make the cut.  Unless you’re on a video Skype, there’s no reason NOT to be comfortable.  And for many of us, that means stretchy pants.  Women have known since the ‘80’s that stretchy pants may not always make a fashion statement but at least they are comfortable.  We’ve always had this as “our little secret”, something only for girls.

Boy was I surprised to recently find out that our little secret is out, ladies.  Guys apparently have stretchy pants too, and are not afraid to admit it.  This was recently revealed to me by a male colleague who freely stated that working at home was great because he could be comfortable in his stretchy pants.  After I stopped laughing, I realized he was serious.

Let me stop you before you start pinging me with comments like, “He’s probably over-weight, older, not fashion conscious and still single”.  You would be correct only in that he’s single, but I’m pretty sure that’s by choice.  This colleague is handsome, twenty-something and not a pound over-weight.  At least from what I can tell; I try not to stare too much.  He’s a new colleague and I don’t want to appear too “Mrs. Robinson”, not to mention that Hubby is my prince charming.  I’m only interested in this because I didn’t think young, hip guys knew about stretchy pants.

In all fairness to my new colleague, Hubby has his version of stretchy pants which he has dubbed, “sit-around-naked-pants” – meaning they are so comfortable it’s like wearing nothing at all, which he would never do because that would be just wrong or creepy.  Not in a fifty-shades kind of way, but, you know what I mean.  Sigh…Hubby is not going to like this post.

All this to say that whether you’ve been laid-off and are looking for work, or simply working from the comfort of your home office, one of the benefits is  wearing what you want without worrying about putting on a fashion show.

Stretchy pants – they’re not just for women anymore.

If Elected as Your Boss, I Promise To…

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It’s Election Day – FINALLY!  I, for one, will be thrilled when the campaigning ends and we can get back to what’s really important in TV land: dancing, singing and real housewives.  I mean really, with all of this campaigning there’s been almost zero news about the Kardashian’s lately.  Surely there’s some new scandal in their lives. 

For the last however many months, all we’ve heard is mostly polite arguing, with each side trying to prove the other wrong.  And don’t get me started on the debates.  Hubby and I tried to take notes as we listened and watched, hoping to see a real strategy, with clear objectives and defined tactics that could be executed as soon as the inauguration takes place.   I know, I know.  That would be a miracle.  It seems like we elect people who are the least offensive, but not necessarily the best.  Some sort of cynicism must set in since we’ve heard the promises before, and know that the elected party doesn’t always make good on those promises.

All this campaigning and promise-making got me to thinking: what would happen if we could elect our bosses at work?  What if they had to be accountable to us, outlining their strategic plans, objectives and tactics, knowing full-well that if they didn’t deliver as promised we, the employees, not the board of directors, might vote them out at the next election?  Sounds interesting to me.

I can see it now: signs would be plastered all over the conference rooms, the elevators, the break room and cafeteria.  HR would have to step in to control the amount of buttons and other campaign materials handed out at the office.  No work would get done as lobbying for votes would be in full-effect, with each boss candidate promising more than the other.  One would offer higher salaries, the other would offer more vacation time.  Both would offer shorter work weeks as well as the privilege of wearing shorts and flip-flops to the office.  I imagine a campaign speech to go something like this:

Trust me with your vote – I’ve been in your flip-flops! The customers are cranky, the hours are long and I feel your pain! The office space is cramped, the conference rooms are few and the air is either too hot or too cold.  I know what it’s like to be working at a low-level, without an opportunity to rise to the top.  OK, maybe I haven’t actually been in your flip-flops because as a boss I don’t wear those, but I know someone who knows someone that’s been there.  Anyway, if elected as your boss, I promise to remove the cranky customers and reduce your working hours.  Well, maybe I’ll just have a nice chat with the customers; after all we need them, even if they are cranky. And I promise to at least pretend to look into reducing work hours.  More importantly, no more generic coffee in the break rooms! I’ll hire trained baristas to make fancy coffee drinks for your enjoyment.  Actually, maybe the entire department can be cross-trained as baristas, with each of you taking a different day of the week to make the coffee drinks.  See? I’ve already improved working conditions by adding barista experience to your resume!  Each employee will get a personal fan and space heater to control air temperature.  You may work long hours, but at least you’ll have control over your cubicle temperature.  See, I know how to make your work life better.  Trust me!

After all the speeches were said and the campaigning done, we’d get to vote for the person we’d prefer to have as our boss for the next couple of years.  And if that person didn’t keep his or her campaign promises, we would have the luxury of letting them know we will not re-elect them as boss next time around.  Wow – I can feel the power already!  But really, do I want to have to do this all the time? 

All kidding aside, I take voting for elected officials – especially the President – very seriously. So does Hubby. We stood in line with about a hundred others during early voting, to make sure our voices were heard.  With all the mud-slinging – I mean, campaigning – going on, sometimes you wonder if it’s worth the effort.  Having been to countries dominated by men, where you have to dip your finger in ink to vote, Hubby and I know that this is a privilege that too few in the world are granted.

I hope you take a moment today and vote, if you haven’t already.  It’s worth the time.

Don’t Be Distracted by the Game on the Field

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It’s football season! Excitement is in the air. Even the weather is excited, with a brisk, cool wind.  Not so surprising for those of you in the north, but for those of us in the south, this is huge. 

I can feel the excitement around our house too.  Hubby is a huge football fan.  He doesn’t even need an allegiance or tie to a team for him to be mesmerized by the game.  Many wives hate this time of year, but I actually enjoy it.  While I love watching my Aggies or even my high school team, it’s not the football that I’m excited about.  I’m pumped because during football season all of our ironing gets done – on a weekly basis!

Early in our marriage, Hubby told me he planned to watch football on Sundays – every Sunday.  Seeing my expression, he quickly realized the need to negotiate this time devoted to watching grown men throwing, running and tackling each other over a brown leather ball.  I mean come on; if it was a nice pair of Jimmy Choos I’m sure I would be more enthusiastic.  But not a ball.  Anyway, Hubby offered to do all of our ironing while he watches football.  Score!  Of course I agreed to this arrangement.

This doesn’t mean that I’m not interested in football.  If I can get tickets to see the Aggies, I’m there.  Same thing with my nephew’s high school team.  I’m the proud aunt and am definitely going to cheer him on.

Before I go further, let me say that Hubby and I have different reasons for attending a sporting event.  Hubby is all about the game. His rule is that we need to be there for kick-off and we need to stay until the bitter end, no matter who’s winning, and I’m usually in agreement here.  Yet there’s more to watch than the game on the field.  As a former dance team member, I’m always interested in the half-time show.  I also enjoy watching the cheerleaders with their complicated tumbling stunts. Not to mention the social aspect, but we’ll get to that in a minute.

We recently had the opportunity to see my nephew in action – football excitement at its best.  It was our first time to watch him play varsity and we couldn’t wait.  We had awesome seats in front of my sister and her hubby that were high enough to see the plays, yet low enough to feel the action.

Just after kick-off, Sis and I started talking about Nephew’s school, his game stats, etc.  We hadn’t been at the game more than five minutes when a dear friend found us in the stands.  We chatted excitedly, like old friends do, getting caught up on each other’s lives.  Periodically I would hear the crowd roar, meaning that something happened on field and I would divert my attention from my friend and Sis to cheer or sigh or whatever emotion was needed to support the team.

Hubby, in the meantime, was completely focused on the game. Occasionally he would glance over at me as if to say, “Hey, are you paying attention to your nephew?”  And finally it was half-time.  This is my super-bowl, the time when my eyes never leave the field.  I loved watching the girls dance as I pointed out to Hubby for the umpteenth time where I stood on the field when I was on the drill team.  He politely let me reminisce while he relived his glory days in the marching band.

The second half started and Hubby was in a trance, all of his attention on the game.  I decided to visit my friend in her section of the stands, so off I went.  Nephew displayed his football skills by kicking for three points and we cheered for him in between fashion discussions.  Before I knew it, the game was over.  As I reunited with Hubby, he smiled and sort of laughed.  “What?” I said, not understanding what was so amusing.  “I thought you wanted to watch our nephew,” he said.  Explaining that I did want to see Nephew play, but also see my friends, he said, “Well I certainly wouldn’t want you to be distracted by the game on the field.”

Of course I was not distracted by the game on the field. Duh!  I knew when Nephew was playing; I even knew the score from peeking at the scoreboard.  Men! They just don’t get it, do they?  There are two events happening at once: the game on the field, and the social game in the stands.

“Distracted by the game” – hmpf! Hubby just needs to learn which game to watch.

Balancing Act: My Love-Hate Relationship With Technology

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This year I succumbed to peer pressure and got an iPad.  Actually, Hubby bought me the iPad as a gift. He probably thought he would get to use it too, and actually loaded the connection to his email on the device. LOL! As if he would be able to pry it from my hands.

Truthfully, I wanted to be part of the “in” crowd, with the latest technology, even though I really wasn’t sure why I needed this device when my laptop and iPhone were always close at hand.

The benefits of this device?

–          I look cool and super-important while I surf the net at Starbucks

–          Shopping – of course I just had to get an awesome case for it – but I discovered that I can online shop just about anywhere now. Sweet!

–          My shoulder loves it! No need to struggle to carry the brick that’s my laptop when I travel, since my iPad allows me to stay connected, read attachments, etc.

–          Multi-tasking: watch TV, chat with Hubby and keep up with FB all from the comfort of the couch

The downside:

–          I. Am. Always. Connected.

How did I fall for this trap?  Wasn’t it enough to own a smart phone, that’s almost surgically attached to my hand?

This wonderful, yet wicked, device with its awesome technology added another layer of complexity to my already action-packed life.  While I’m not a true follower of the zodiac, I do believe I have some traits of my sign.  As a Libra (the Scale), I really prefer that things are balanced.   I am passionate about my work as well as my personal life, and I don’t want one getting more attention than the other.  Yes there are times when one is busier.  But that’s OK; I can handle chaos at work if home is calm. Likewise, chaos at home is fine as long as work is calm.   But with all this connectivity, it seems like I’m never able to enjoy the calm.

Work is always on fire. Part of that is my chosen profession and while I love it, I’m making a note to myself: next career, try to pick something that’s not always a fire-drill.    Hubby/family/friends are a top priority at home.  Layer on top of that my passion for writing, including my recently published book, and I find myself always out of balance, running from one project to the next without any down-time.

It’s definitely harder to balance the three-legged stool of work-home-personal projects.  Yet there has to be a way to do it.  I’ve said before that the obvious solution would be to eliminate something.  For me, it’s been more difficult since I experienced being laid off.  The fear of being without a job is still top of mind, so I push myself to do more in the same amount of time.  Definitely a losing proposition.

My goal now is to try and create boundaries that allow for all areas of my life.  I don’t know how I’m going to achieve this, but it’s worth fighting for.  We all need to take breaks – even just an evening off, or a whole day if possible.  And vacations that take me away from it all are a must!

I’ve started to wean myself from connectivity for short periods of time.  After all, I’m not the leader of the free world so I doubt that I’m really needed at any second of the day. Not peeking at an electronic device is much harder than I thought.  Hubby and I try to hide our smart phones while dining so we can focus on each other, although we slip sometimes.  Slowly I’m getting used to not bringing my iPad, including the fun case, when I go for coffee, hoping that I’ll sip my beverage and clear my mind.

Baby steps, I tell myself.  Baby steps.

From Unemployment to Author: You’ve Read the Blog, Now Get the Book!

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What am I doing?  I’ve asked myself this over and over since the layoff.  The day I was laid-off seemed surreal.  It was somewhat terrifying, although as I’ve said before, I just knew that somehow, some way, things would work out for the best. Where I got this confidence, I don’t know.  If I did, I would package it and go on the talk-show circuit to promote it.

As my journey through the Land of Layoff progressed, I noticed lots of funny, humorous things about work, or really my lack thereof.  One awesome by-product of this journey was that I discovered writing for fun, and with the encouragement of Hubby and others I started chronicling my experience in my blog, “Tales of the Terminated”. You’ve read the stories: the phone interview that went horribly wrong, the parallel universe of networking events and my many freak-outs. I was encouraged by followers who told me they enjoyed reading my stories; that they could relate to my tales of unemployment and job search. While I enjoyed writing, honestly I thought it was a fun hobby and nothing more.  Until now.

It’s been almost two years since that fateful day I stepped into unemployment, and my life is great.  Life in the Land of Layoff happens in stages, and I’m happy to tell you that I’ve taken the next step.  You’ve read the blog, now you can get the book:  “Tales of the Terminated: A Humorous Look at Life After a Layoff” is now available for purchase! Amazon, iTunes, Barnes & Noble.com, Kindle, Nook, paperback, e-version – you name it.

I would love for you to share this with your friends, colleagues, family – anyone!  “Like” us on Facebook, follow on Twitter. Keep reading because I intend to keep writing.

Thank you for your continued support and encouragement.  I’m grateful to have you.

What Do Study Habits Have to Do With Work?

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I just figured out what my biggest problem was in college.  I studied too much. 
And how did I come to this revelation, you ask?  Especially now, since I’ve been out of school for quite some time, it seems like an odd thing to be concerned with.  If you look at my transcript – especially from undergrad – one would argue that I didn’t study enough.  Those grades sure don’t look like that of the next Einstein. 
I have to credit being laid-off for giving me the insight to see that I studied too much in college.  Try to follow me on this; I know I’m sounding like I’ve either pulled an all-nighter and need sleep or that I’ve lost my mind.  
When the lay-off hit, I began consulting.  I looked forward to setting my own hours and working from home instead of having to commute to an office each day.  Getting started wasn’t too difficult, and before long I had a few clients.  One thing led to another and my work expanded, including some very fulfilling personal projects.  Then I was offered a job that allowed me to work in the office several days a week, while maintaining one day a week for my personal projects.  It seemed like the best of both worlds.
That was more than a year ago, and now I’m exhausted.  While it is the “best of both worlds”, it’s more than a full schedule.  I’ve got four action-packed days at the office followed by three more work-filled days at home.  Somewhere in there I’m supposed to relax and have fun.  Yes, my work for the company is interesting but it’s also intense.  And while my personal projects are very fulfilling, they are also creative in nature and take more time to complete than I thought.  So it feels like I’m working seven days a week. All.The.Time. 
This is exactly the same thing that happened to me when it came to studying in college.  With demanding classes I felt like I should be studying every waking moment.  Sure I had fun, never missing a football game and working in time for friends, yet deep down it was hard for me to relax, even for a night.  It was the feeling that I had, that I needed to be studying rather than having fun that caused me so much stress. 
It’s the same stress I have now, like there’s so much to do that I can never stop working. With both of these great jobs I find myself unable to break away from work, even for a short time. The fear is that if I take time to have fun or take a day off, I’ll miss self-imposed deadlines or that I’ll never catch up.  I find myself not accepting social invitations because I know that I have work to do. Hmmm…this sounds familiar. Haven’t I seen this movie?
If I had been smart in college I would have learned how to handle this situation by paying attention to one of my friends.  On the surface it appeared that this very smart individual didn’t care about grades – and in some respect that’s true. It seemed as though he didn’t worry about studying and had lots of fun.  His approach? He figured out exactly what he needed to do to make the minimum passing grade – and he did that.  Not too smart, huh?  Actually it was brilliant, and I wish I’d followed his lead. He spent his extra time exploring other interests and thinking in a more entrepreneurial way about life after college rather than feeling guilty for not spending all his time studying.   Yes, he graduated. Not with honors but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care.  Now a successful businessman, he’s flying his personal airplane around the country while I still have to hunt for air fares and fly commercial.
My hunch is that if I had allowed myself the freedom to take time off in college, without worry, that I would have been happier and my grades would have been no worse.  They might actually have been better, since I would have been rested and rejuvenated.   Yet here I am years later, struggling with the same issue again, this time without the threat of a poor GPA.  I simply can’t seem to let myself relax, even for one night.  Poor Hubby; we haven’t had a “date” in ages.  It’s no fun to go to a movie when all I want to do is check my email or scribble notes for one of my projects.  
Hard to believe it’s taken me all these years to figure it out.  Too bad I wasn’t smart enough to adjust my work/study habits while I was still in college.  Imagine the fun I would have had, the memories I would have made and the grades I would have seen at the end of each term.
Even now, I wonder what kind of great work I might accomplish, if I just allowed myself some time off?  It’s worth a try.
© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Hubby Was Right

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Hubby likes to be right. This doesn’t happen very often, but occasionally he is right.  At that point he announces to anyone who will listen, “Hey, I was right today!”  Women stare back at him like he’s nuts, while the guys smile and give him a high-five.  This is because they too are seldom right.

It all started because I was having “one of those days”.  You know, the kind where nothing makes you happy, with a funk hanging over you like a black cloud?  Luckily they don’t happen to me very often.  Hubby is extremely glad too.  My mood can go from giddy to ghoulish in a nanosecond, although mostly I just can’t seem to make a decision on anything – going to the gym, working, reading, watching TV – you name it.   I know I’m in a funk, yet I simply can’t extract myself from its grip.

This time was even worse because I had work to do, including writing.  Nothing kills creativity more than being in a funk.  I had been at the computer for hours and all I had to show for it was a Facebook update and a few winning games of solitaire.

Being a very smart man, Hubby assessed the situation and suggested I get out of the house for a break.  Being a very stubborn gal, I didn’t move a muscle, insisting that I need to stay at the computer to get work done.   Not sure exactly what happened next except that I found myself being led to my car, purse in hand, with Hubby telling me to head to the mall and just walk around to clear my head.   “It will do you good,” he said.  “Besides, don’t you need to buy some face stuff?”  That’s guy-talk for make-up, in case you don’t recognize it.

Fine, I thought. You want me out of the house, I’ll leave.  It’s not going to help the funk I’m in, but at least I’ll get some exercise. 

I felt even worse when I got to the mall, realizing that I had not bothered to change and I was still in my gym clothes.  At least I wasn’t sweaty since my funk had forbid me from hitting the gym.  My plan was a quick walk all the way around the mall, with only one stop for “face stuff”.  

As I walked, it occurred to me that I hadn’t been shopping in quite some time.  Serious shopping, I mean.  The kind where you look at all the clothes, assess the season’s trends and make a wish list of must-haves.  Store windows screamed fall, with new clothes in a glorious color palette.  Colors that were perfect for me.  Styles that were perfect for me.  Sale signs that encouraged me to shop – which was perfect for me.

Let me just say that I’m usually pretty quick to decide on clothing. I can enter a store, visually scan the racks, and tell almost immediately whether or not there’s anything I want to look at.  I’m so quick that if Hubby is with me, he barely gets a chance to find a seat before I’m ready to move on to the next store.

This time was different. EVERYTHING was calling my name.  As I stepped into one of my favorite stores, my heart started racing and I found my excitement pushing the funk out the back door.  The colors and styles were almost too much to take in.  Perusing the racks, touching the fabrics, examining the styles – before I knew it I was in a dressing room with a pile of clothes to try on.    And of course for once, everything I tried on fit. And looked good.  Nothing beats a good funk like fabulous new clothes. 

A bit overwhelmed by all of the styles and colors, I decided to move on down the mall while I thought about a purchase.   Every store was the same, with windows ablaze in fashion, each style calling my name.

As I purchased the one item I actually came for – “face stuff” – I mentally tallied the bill to purchase the fashions I was interested in.  My math was rough, but I figured it totaled about $5,000. I got in the car and headed home.

Walking in the door, Hubby could sense that my mood had changed and that my funk had bailed on me.  “See – I told you shopping would be good for you!” he crowed, knowing that his decision to send me to the mall had indeed been right.  “Did you get your face stuff?”  “Oh yeah”, I told him.  “But there was so much to buy!  The clothes are fabulous this season; just my colors. I spent about $5,000”. 

I watched the color drain from Hubby’s face as he clutched his wallet while trying to look brave and supportive.  I failed to tell him that I had only mentally spent $5,000.  After all, it’s important for him to know that he was right. 

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Feast or Famine

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I’ve never understood why my calendar is such a mess.  Physically it’s a cute calendar, all hot pink and black (my favorite colors).  I’m talking about the schedule of things that fill my calendar.  It’s either feast or famine with my obligations and social events, with too much to do or nothing at all.  At least that’s the way it seems.

The problem is not so much that I have plans but that my calendar seems to fill up at the last minute.  This is particularly true of weekends. Plans come at me rapid fire, faster than I can really think about them.  Before you know it, I’m running from one event to the next and the weekend is over before I know it.  Fun, yes, but not very relaxing.  By Sunday night I’m exhausted, and frustrated that I didn’t accomplish much on my to-do list.

Take last weekend, for example.  With no family plans or other obligations except for regular stuff like grocery shopping and my weekly manicure, Hubby and I had a completely free weekend.  My mind raced with how to spend the time. 

Writing was on top of the list. Organize my craft room.  Prep for an upcoming presentation. Sit by the pool with a good book. Watch a movie – or two.  Hubby’s list was growing too, including organizing his work bench in the garage and heading to the driving range to try out his new golf club.  We both had visions of a date on Saturday night, maybe dinner at a nice restaurant. 

This plan was still in place as late as noon on Friday.  With a free weekend in mind, I was in no hurry to get started on my list of “want to-dos” because the whole weekend was free.  So off I went Friday afternoon for a quick visit with a colleague, figuring I could continue with my fun to-do list Friday night or Saturday. It’s just an hour, I thought as I headed out the door.

First, I should know better than saying I’m going to visit with anyone for only an hour.  I simply don’t know how to do that.  Two hours later and I was on my way home.   In the car, I could hear my phone pinging with new emails and texts.  Checking the computer as soon as I got home, I saw the first email was an invitation to network with a new acquaintance, asking if I could meet during the weekend.  I picked up the phone to check weekend plans with Hubby – after all, I never know what super-awesome surprise plans he may have waiting for me. While it wasn’t exactly a super-awesome surprise, he did remind me that my alma mater was playing the first football game of the season Saturday afternoon, and of course I was not going to miss watching the big game.  No problem, I can network on Sunday since watching the game can’t possibly take that much time.

Then the phone rang. Our wonderful next door neighbors offered us tickets to the high school football game – that started in 2 hours.  Primo seats on the fifty yard line.  Of course we couldn’t let good football tickets go to waste!  Any work or projects would have to wait until Saturday. 

Saturday morning I overslept. That’s okay, I thought, aside from my manicure, the only other activity for the day is watching the game, and that’s only a couple hours, right?  After my manicure I figured I had time to spare – no obligations, right? – so I lazily walked through a shop or two (or three) before heading home.  Hubby was on the computer researching places to watch the game, which I thought was on TV.  Augh! It’s on cable – and since we don’t have cable that means we have to find a sports bar or restaurant to watch the game.  Still not quite grasping the time suck that this would be, Hubby tells me we need to leave an hour before the game starts to make sure we can get a seat.  Sigh.  There goes my afternoon, I thought, but figured I would have time after the game for things on my list.

Wrong!  The game took for-ev-er, with all the commercial breaks.  My butt became permanently attached to the barstool I was sitting on.  Before we knew what hit us, we were eating dinner while still watching the game.  By the time we got home, walked the dog and ran a quick errand, I realized the day was gone. 

That meant Sunday was crunch time.  All the things on my to-do list from Friday were still there, with nothing crossed off.  Nope, hadn’t gotten around to any of the fun things, and we certainly hadn’t made it to the gym or the grocery store. And we totally forgot about the neighborhood party we agreed to attend Sunday night which meant the day was a whirlwind as we tried to get at least a few things accomplished.  By 10 pm Sunday, we were both exhausted and realized that our lists would have to wait.

I know, I know.  It’s my own fault.  Yes, I could learn to say no to some or all of the activities that pop up.  Yes, it’s my choice to either stick to the list or jump on the last-minute opportunities. The responsible thing would be to decline the last-minute invitations in favor of the original plan, so I would have everything accomplished by the end of the weekend.

But that wouldn’t be much fun now, would it?   

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

You’re Not the Boss of Me

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Little kids, especially toddlers, are fearless, aren’t they?  Not necessarily in a physical sense, like being unafraid of climbing the highest tree or skating downhill without a plan for stopping.  I’m thinking more about how they approach life.  While they understand a pecking order and that the very tall people (a.k.a. parents, older relatives, teachers) seem to make the rules, kids in general are willing to push limits with the tall people to make their voice heard in an attempt to get what they want. 

You know what I’m talking about.  There’s a phrase that I bet most children have shouted, muttered or pouted at one time or another. It’s usually uttered after a tall person has tried to tell them what to do.   With much foot stomping, tears, little fists held high and as much drama as they can muster, they let out “You’re not the boss of me!”

At this point, tall people – especially those who are not the parents – try to hide their laughter and maintain some sense of hierarchy to calm the one-person mutiny that is underway. 

While I don’t have kids of my own, I know this from my nieces and nephews.  Even my dog says “You’re not the boss of me”, although hers is more of an evil-eye, like “You may have stopped me from chewing the couch now, but I’ll leave you a present someday when you least expect it”. 

As adults, wouldn’t it be nice to have such a phrase to use at work?  I can see it now: sitting in a meeting with other execs, when the boss gives directions that no one wants to follow.  Wouldn’t it be great to say, “No, I’m not going to do that; you’re not the boss of me!”? 

Somehow I don’t think that would go over too well.

We are all used to the pecking order, and when a lay-off hits we find ourselves facing a new hierarchy.  Without a boss, I suddenly found myself in charge, especially since I began consulting.  Some call it self-motivation or being an entrepreneur, but all that really means is that you boss yourself. Great. It’s hard enough to have a boss or be a boss, but double the trouble if you are both employee and boss. Those conversations are pretty funny too.

“No, I’m not interested in working on this project”.  “But you have to; there’s no one else here to do it.”  “I’ll get to it when I feel like it.”  “No, you need to work on it now.”  “Don’t tell me what to do; I am the boss of me!”

These personal tantrums can go on indefinitely, with no one else to mediate.

At times I have felt like I have split personality disorder.  I’m sure the people at the local coffee house have wondered who I am talking to as I sit alone working on my laptop, having a heated discussion with no one about the work I am supposed to be doing.   

Unfortunately I AM the boss of me.  So I have to motivate myself to do work that sometimes I just don’t feel like doing.  How do I motivate myself?  Here are some tricks I use:

–          Set time limits. If I get my work done by X time, then I can go out to lunch vs. eating at home.  Food is always a good motivator for me.

–          Have small treats that feel like huge rewards.  For example, when I complete a certain portion of my work, I treat myself by spending 10 minutes sitting by the pool with the latest magazine.  Doesn’t sound like a lot of time, but even 10 minutes outside does wonders for me.  Besides, with temps in the triple digits, 10 minutes is about all I can take.

–          Sometimes I allow for “reverse motivation” – meaning, I’ll get up earlier than normal so I can read the paper over breakfast at the local coffee house (there’s that food motivator again).  It really doesn’t take much more time than eating at home, yet it feels like a wonderful treat to get motivated for the day. I mean, who doesn’t love a good pastry in the morning?

–          Schedule, schedule, schedule! Including other things during the work day, such as a specific time to go to the gym. The more things I have on my schedule, the more productive I actually become.  With deadlines to meet I know my work must be completed in order to make my gym time.  Of course, since I don’t like to go to the gym this can be counter-productive, although it does allow me to continue with my “morning treat” motivation listed above.    

Are these fool proof? No.  Do they prevent me from dilly-dallying and daydreaming, putting off work that needs to get done?  Sometimes, but not always.  Yet I need them to keep some sense of order, and provide some way to motivate myself to keep moving forward.  

Fun part is that I get to set the rules. After all, I am the boss of me.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Reading Between the Lines

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I’m not good at reading between the lines. Vagueness or ambiguity is totally lost on me. That’s probably why I was not too good at dating.  Never understood why guys could not be honest and direct enough to say, “You’re nice but I’d just rather be friends”.  Tough words to hear, but much better than waiting to see if he’s going to call you again. 

This hasn’t changed for me, even in marriage. Hubby learned the hard way that it’s best to just man-up and tell me what’s on his mind.  Otherwise my mind will come up with all sorts of crazy notions about what he wants to say, which are usually wrong, and we’ll end up having a rather loud and lively “discussion” with tears flowing and the dog cowering under the bed.  Definitely not fun.  

When I started my career, business communications were right up my alley: clear, concise and direct.  I was expected to be tough and get the job done. Best to ask questions, recap meetings and lay it all out there so everyone understands the expectations. Doesn’t seem too hard, does it?  My mantra became, “say what you mean and mean what you say”. In a nice way, of course. There’s usually a way to get your point across without being rude. 

Some years ago I noticed a trend away from direct communications, even in business discussions.  Seems like everyone is afraid of offending others by being too direct, and in an attempt to be super nice, we’ve lost our ability to communicate with clarity. 

At work I’ve always said that if you want to ask me to lunch, just ask me.  If you come to my office and say, “I really like pizza”, I think you’re just making a statement – although sort of an odd one at work.  Never would I think that you are trying to tell me “grab your purse so we can head to the cafeteria”.

Why do I have to say “I’m reaching out to someone” instead of “I’m calling him”?  What does “so we’re good, right” mean?  Whatever happened to clearly stating what you need, so the recipient has a good understanding of your expectations?  At least with clear direction, the recipient can ask questions.  Some communications are so vague they are open for interpretation, which is not good for either side.

Recently I’ve noticed that I’m starting to move to “the dark side” in an attempt to fit in with the new corporate culture, using vague communications so as to not offend anyone with my direct-but-polite approach. Yet all this has done is got me in trouble.  A recent email I sent went something like this:

What I said: “Based on yesterday’s discussion, we need to organize and host the upcoming meeting. Would you like to take the lead on this?”  Notice my super-nice phrase, “take the lead” – nothing wrong here, right? After all, I wouldn’t want to insult the recipient by spelling out my expectations, would I?

What I meant: “Will you be the point person to manage this project and all that’s included to see this to completion, such as inviting attendees, developing the agenda, ordering food and preparing the presentation or assigning others to help in the presentation?”     

The response I got: I would love to be there, thanks for inviting me. I’d be happy to show them around the office.

HUH?  This person either totally misunderstood my uber-polite email, which is scary in itself, OR this is an uber-polite-yet-so-subtle-that-I-don’t-get-it way of saying, “No, I’m not able to/interested in taking the lead on this project”.   

I used to think this was mainly an issue with younger people, those who have been brought up never hearing the word “no”, always believing they are “winners”, the ones with parents who coddled them a bit too much.  But I’ve noticed it in older employees too.  Maybe it’s a function of career path – I started out in a traditional, well-established business environment that had structure, and clear communication may have been easier to learn than if my career had begun at a small start-up company where things were done on the fly without much organization. 

However this trend began, I know I’m not a fan.  Seems like we’re either writing fluffy emails or tip-toeing around with our spoken words, fearful that we may come across as negative or hurt someone’s feelings if we use more direct communication. The result is often misunderstanding and confusion and we end up spending more time trying to clarify our meaning than if we had been clear and concise to begin with. Ugh.

Say what you mean and mean what you say. That’s all I’m gonna say.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved