I Love Rock ‘n Roll

by -

We all have an inner “someone”, a persona that others rarely see but that’s just beneath the surface waiting to get out.  Mine is a rock star.  From the outside I may look all business, but on the inside I’m all rock ‘n roll. I love music and going to concerts. Especially classic rock and ‘80’s hair bands like Bon Jovi.

When Hubby and I began dating I asked him to join me at a concert; my treat. Isn’t that what liberated women do anymore, ask their guy out?  It was a stadium concert, none other than the Rolling Stones, and to me it was the opportunity of a lifetime. These guys have been rocking and partying hard for decades and you never know when they might decide to call it quits.  After all, I imagine you can only have so many women throw themselves at you before it gets old.

 My expectation for the show was to dress in my finest all-black rock star attire and cut loose, expecting Hubby to do the same.  Bad assumption on my part.   Here I am, looking every bit the rock goddess. Here comes Hubby, wearing a golf shirt, khakis and white leather gym shoes that were so bright new you needed sunglasses to avoid the glare.  I didn’t say a word.  At the stadium, Hubby went to purchase beverages while I ran into the ladies room.  Stepping out of the restroom, I cringed as I saw Hubby’s new look: he had two sets of binoculars strapped across his chest, one on the left and one on the right, holding drinks and hot dogs, looking more like a tourist at Disney than a concertgoer.  Words jumped out before I could stop them as I hissed, “Take off those binoculars and be COOL!  This is the Rolling Stones!” Ouch. I still wince at the words.

Apparently I underestimated Hubby’s inner persona.  On our next date (yes, he did ask me out again despite my outburst) I opened the door to find Hubby leaning against the wall wearing a skin-tight t-shirt, jeans, a leather jacket and sunglasses, with an unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.  “Am I cool enough for you now?” he asked.  Point: Hubby. And I knew I had met my match.

Most of the time I try to repress my inner rock star, but sometimes she just has to come out – like at concerts.  This is fine, since my inner rock star is only a small part of who I am.  My day-to-day personality is much more important and needs to be front and center.  My inner rock star is fine with this arrangement.

Suppressing my inner rock star is easy.  Suppressing my personality – who I am – is not.  Especially at work.  I’m confident, creative, intelligent, passionate, logical, funny, straightforward and assertive. I’m a thinker who’s not afraid to make decisions, although I enjoy working as a team for the good of the group and the project.  I value those who work for me and will support them as they learn and grow.  Ninety-nine percent of the time, my personality is an asset in the workplace.

Every once in a while, I find that others want me to suppress my personality and be something I’m not.  They want me to be a shrinking Violet, or a passive Patty, or simply accept decisions that are detrimental to the team or company without at least pointing out alternate solutions.  I’ve been criticized for wanting to – in a nice way, of course – ask a question of a colleague.  I’m not exactly sure why asking a question that may help me better understand a situation to develop a solution could be detrimental, but some think it is.

I’ve suppressed my personality before and can do it easily for short periods.  But over the long-haul this is not a good situation. I become frustrated, which doesn’t help anyone, especially me.  It’s important that I work in an environment that allows me to be “me”.  My inner rock star may retreat during business hours as long as my personality is allowed to shine. It’s essential to who I am.

As I look at new opportunities, I’m going to allow my personality to take center stage.   If the company doesn’t like the “real” me, then maybe it’s not the right gig.  And if she’s lucky, I may let my inner rock star make a brief appearance during the interview too.  As long as she promises not to outshine me. Rock on!

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Robe Envy

by -

There had to be 1,500 robes walking solemnly into the ceremony. The arena was hushed as parents, relatives and friends watched the procession.  Occasionally a camera flash pierced the silence.  One by one, the robes took their place and the ceremony began.  This would be one of five such ceremonies over two days.  Yikes; that’s a lot of robes.
My niece was in one of those robes. It was her college commencement.  Hard to believe she’s old enough to graduate from college, and with a degree that is way more difficult than mine.  I could tell from the dangling cords decorating her robe that she was a member of an honor society.  Something I never achieved during my collegiate years.
With six nieces and nephews, Hubby and I will be attending many commencement ceremonies over the next 15 years. That’s a lot of robes; many heartfelt commencement speeches by dignitaries; a lot of listening to “pomp and circumstance”. Wonder if we could get Aerosmith to play at one of these things? Sure would be different.
I loved watching the doctorate candidates, followed by masters and then bachelors, each in a robe.  It was then that I discovered I have robe-envy.  Sure, I have the masters and bachelors robes.  But I want the fancy robe, the one with the velvet trim and colored hood that comes with obtaining a PHD.  Since I have no aspirations to become a professor, the degree would have little significance for my career and wouldn’t lead to more money.  I just want to say I achieved the feat.  It would be fun to have my friends call me “doctor”.  And the robe itself is beyond coolness.
Honestly, I just want the recognition that comes with working hard to achieve a goal.  And to hear someone cheering for me.  That’s not too much to ask, is it?  Hubby says I should go for the robe and the PHD that goes with it, if I want to.  Still contemplating the idea of going back to school.  It’s been a while since I wrote an academic paper.  The idea of research makes me a bit nauseous.  Of course I guess it might be easier nowadays, with the Internet. No more nights at the library trying to figure out the Dewy Decimal System simply to get a book that turned out to be less than good.  I’m still mad at that Dewy guy.  And all that reading!  If it’s not a romance novel or People magazine, I’m not too interested any more. 
Still, the lure of the robe is tempting. The feeling of accomplishment that comes with achieving a goal. And the recognition from others that I did it.  I made it. My hard work paid off.  Recognition like this is rarely seen once you enter the work force.  If you’ve ever been laid off, you know that getting recognition for your work – no matter how small – is really valued. And missed when you’re without a job.
So yes, I’m considering the possibility – however remote – of attempting to get the fancy robe. 
In the meantime, I’ll have to settle for the recognition that comes with working hard and that my years of experience are valuable.  I may bling-out my bathrobe until I can get the fancy robe.  Go ahead and be jealous. Robe-envy is hard to shake.
© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Ponytail Alert

by -

Ever feel like you’re living in a Dilbert cartoon?  I have. The “pointy-haired boss” who is so clueless about his business and employees always makes me laugh.    Over the years there have been many instances where I was convinced that the cartoons were inspired by the company I was working for. 

And of course there’s Michael from the sitcom, The Office.  Unlike Dilbert’s pointy-haired boss, Michael is ‘arrogantly clueless’.  That’s almost worse – he thinks he knows everything but really just makes work harder for all involved.
 
Classic among the females is Meryl Streep’s character in The Devil Wears Prada.  Now this one actually gives me chills.  Reminds me of my first few years in the workforce, working in the high-pressured world of fashion.  I remember one boss in particular.  She was one of the smartest women I’ve ever worked for.  She was also a tad difficult.  A bit of a character, Boss had a habit of playing with her shoulder-length hair while she was working.  She always wore a rubber band on her wrist, and as she became stressed she would use the rubber band to tie her hair back into a ponytail.  The higher the ponytail, the more stressed she was.  And her personality changed with the ponytail, becoming more terse and harder to deal with.  So our department instituted the “ponytail alert”.  If anyone witnessed the ponytail – especially if it was high on her head – that person became like Paul Revere and alerted the rest of the department so we could avoid the wrath that came with the ponytail.
 
I was working with Boss on a project one time, and I had to run to my office for some information. When I came back, not only had she put her hair in a ponytail, but it was straight on top of her head!  I remember trying to remain calm, get my assignment and exit her office as quickly as possible.
 
Had another boss who was so clueless that he had me write my own review. I guess this is not unheard of, except during said review he asked me, in all seriousness, to complete the section with his comments – he was too clueless about my job to even write a comment on my review.  Good news for me though. I wrote rave comments and received a nice raise.
 
My rule as a boss is to help my team as much as possible. I want them to want my job, and if I provide the correct guidance they should become skilled enough to get promoted.  Paramount to being a good boss, in my opinion, is to provide as much open and honest communication as possible.  Confidentiality trumps openness on occasion, but most of the time it works.  Even when it means conveying bad news.  People can handle bad news; they just need to know what it is.  Nothing is worse than not knowing.
 
Over the years I’ve had great bosses, bad bosses and many in between.  Ponytail Boss was not the worst, although she remains a classic.  I’ve tried to come up with my version of “types of bosses” – see what you think. And whatever you do, try to avoid being one of “them”.

Types of Bosses:
 
Mr. Clueless – The guy who somehow got promoted, although it’s hard to figure out why.  Has no understanding of what it actually takes to get his job done, much less yours.  If he realizes his own shortcomings, working for this guy can be good as he’ll step out of the way and let you go.  Of course, he’ll also step out of the way and let you take the fall – after all, he’s clueless.

The Ostrich – This boss buries his head in sand and hopes that things just go away. Always a good approach, if you never want to take responsibility or get things done. Also a good approach if you want your team to be constantly frustrated.

The Constant Visionary – This is the guy who’s always thinking of new ideas yet never realizes that at some point, a decision needs to be made and action has to be taken. Business is suddenly standing still, trapped in a never-ending cycle of hope for action, due to the constant stream of visions that appear to this boss. He calls them “creative ideas”.  You call them “roadblocks”.  It’s a fine line.

The Smooth Talker – This boss appears to be highly respected by others in the company, and at first you agree.  His presentations are stellar and he exudes just the right amount of poise and confidence.  Others are envious that they are not under his guidance. Everyone leaves his meetings inspired, ready for action.  Once back at the desk, it doesn’t take long for people to realize that he sounded good but he didn’t really say anything. At least anything of substance.

The Withholder of Information – A very difficult boss, he has all the information because he attends meetings (without you) yet consistently fails to share that information when dumping projects on you.  Of course he’s probably fearful that he may lose “power” if he shares his knowledge.  Funny thing is that power is in the mind of the beholder.

The Clairvoyant Leader – Rather than providing direction, this boss uses nice phrases like “I’m open to your suggestions” and “let’s see what you come up with”, lulling you into a false sense of security that he is truly open to your ideas. When you provide your report, he unleashes all sorts of tirades on you because you could not read his mind and your work is “not at all what he wanted”.  This leaves you to review your job description to see if “mind reader” was a pre-requisite for the job. No a magic eight ball won’t work either. I’ve tried.

 

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

There’s No Crying in Blogging

by -

Each week I set aside specific times to write, marking this time as a meeting on my calendar so I stay on track. Usually this works well.  There are also unscheduled occasions when an idea hits me and I run to the computer to let my thoughts flow.  Sometimes, when I’m not near my computer, I have to reach for the nearest piece of paper and jot my thoughts down while they’re fresh in my mind.  In any case, I’ve got a system for accomplishing my writing goals.
And today is writing day.  It’s a great day for it, too.  Weather’s cold and bit cloudy; a great day to stay inside.  Coffee in hand, I log on to the computer, ready for whatever brilliant, creative idea hits me.
Yep, I’m ready. Any second now the creative juices will flow.  Here we go.  OK, just a minute more.  Ready, set, write!
Tick-tock, the clock seems to be urging me to write, to do something.  Anything.
I look through all my notes, things that I jot down from time to time.  Usually there’s creative inspiration somewhere on these scraps of paper.   
I’m not sure what’s wrong. It’s like my brain has locked up, unable to think, unable to do anything. I can’t even seem to move in my chair.
Panic starts to set in as I know that I need to write.  The more I panic, the less creative I become.   
I stand up from my desk. I stretch. I walk outside for a minute. Pet the dog. Play solitaire. Look at a magazine.  Close my eyes and try to imagine the story flowing effortlessly through my fingers and onto the page.
Suddenly it occurs to me that I may not be able to write anything today.  Not possible! It’s on the schedule. It’s “writing day”.  I massage my temples, eyes closed.  Must…write…creatively.
Now I’m frantic.  What will I do if I can’t write something?  Tick-tock, tick-tock.  Now the clock seems to be mocking me, making fun of my inability to write on command. Why do we still have a clock that makes noise? Shouldn’t that be digital?
As the minutes slip by I become paralyzed in front of my desk.  I realize the sky is dark, getting close to evening.  Here I sit, alone in the dark, in front of a blank computer screen – no witty words on the page.  Fear of failure creeps in.   I can feel my lips begin to quiver as a lone tear runs down my cheek.
The door opens and Hubby comes in.  “What’s wrong?” he asks.  “Why are you sitting in the dark?”  At that point the sobbing begins as I tell him I’m done.  No more writing for me; apparently I’ve used up all the creative ideas in my mind.  Forever.  Writing, my favorite creative endeavor, must be over.  My shoulders shake as the feeling of failure envelopes me.
As gently as possible, Hubby tries to console me.  He knows to tread lightly.  One time, early in our marriage, he encountered a similar situation and in an attempt to help get me moving forward again he told me to “buck up, little soldier”.  As many of you know, these are not the words a woman wants to hear when she’s in need of consoling.  Let’s just say that was not a good night for Hubby.
Smarter and wiser this time, he hugs me and holding my face in his hands he says simply, “there’s no crying in blogging”. 
I don’t know about you, but this does not seem like the best time for a baseball analogy, does it? 
Yet I know he’s right, even if I don’t want to admit it.  Writing is fun to me. This is what drives me to get up. It challenges me and forces me to think about things in a different way.  Why should I cry over something that I enjoy so much?
Again, it’s that fear of failure creeping in.  Especially since the lay-off.  I’m even more driven to succeed than before, and the pressure I put on myself is probably a bit much. 
Will I ever lose the fear?  I hope so.  And Hubby’s right; I’ll get my creative juices flowing again.  This is simply a temporary set-back. 
I still think there can be crying in blogging.  After all, it got me to write this post. 
© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved