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

Robe Envy

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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

Planning to Leave

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Hubby laughed at me last night.  This isn’t entirely unusual as some of the things I do and say are funny.  And Hubby has a quick wit; it doesn’t take much for him to break into laughter.

Although this time I was being serious.  Aside from my “real” work, I’m also the official travel agent for our family and I was diligently planning our summer vacation.  I’m usually the one that starts the initial conversation about vacation months in advance, as well as the one to push, prod, drag and otherwise coerce Hubby into getting with the program.  Don’t get me wrong; Hubby enjoys taking a vacation as much as I do. It’s just that he seems unable to focus on the planning of a vacation. 

In the back of his mind, Hubby knows that he wants to take a summer vacation. He even has a good idea of the dates he’d like to go on said vacation.  It’s just that since the trip is not imminent, meaning tomorrow, he doesn’t focus on it.  I’m pretty sure if I didn’t drive the vacation bus, Hubby would wait till the last minute and try to throw something together. (Must be a guy-thing) This would be OK if our standards were the same as they were when we were young without much money. We’d simply pack a tent to go camping or drive a couple hours to another city for a few nights in an economy-class motel.   Hubby disputes this last statement, as my camping days were pre-Hubby and he hasn’t actually seen me camp. But I have camped; I have pictures to prove it.

Hubby has learned that when it comes to vacations, economy class is not how I roll.  I’ve paid my dues; we make money now and I enjoy vacationing in style, a la “lifestyles of the rich and famous”.  That means staying at a four or five star resort, being treated like royalty and basking in the luxury.  I mean, why not?  If I can’t live that way year ‘round, then at least I can live that way for a week on vacation.  Good news is that Hubby has also become accustomed to this way of vacationing.

I had secured a week at our favorite resort and needed to tackle the airplane reservations.  Hubby had heard my pleas earlier in the day about finalizing the trip and he even suggested we sit down together to finish the job.  Sweet!  I don’t mind making the reservations but I’d really like his input.

We had a couple decisions to make. Do we take an early morning flight out to maximize our first day, since we’re going west? That’s a no-brainer; of course we do. We can be lounging at the pool by noon.  But what about our return flight?  We want to maximize our time away yet it’s always tough to arrive late at night and assimilate back into the “real world”.

All of a sudden I panicked as I envisioned our trip.  The glorious feeling of arriving, with a week laid out in front of us and nothing to do but relax.  As my mind wandered I envisioned the first few days of bliss, then my thoughts raced to the last couple of days, and the depressing feeling of leaving paradise to return to the grind took hold. A tear accidentally ran down my cheek.  Hubby looked at me, quite puzzled. “What’s wrong?” he asked.  “I’m already sad about leaving our vacation to return home”, I replied.  That’s when he started laughing.

“So you’re planning on leaving a vacation we haven’t started yet?” he said.  More laughter. Lots of teasing. “Only you would think like that”.  While I admit that I am unique in good ways, I certainly don’t want to be called out like this. 

Actually, planning to leave helps me.  If I can envision what it might be like, then it doesn’t seem to hurt as much when it actually happens.  I deal with lots of things that way.  I’m always planning and thinking about different scenarios – in work situations as well as life.

Planning to leave a work situation is something that everyone should do, in my opinion.  Whether I leave a job on my own, or even during the lay-off when the decision was out of my hands, I always consider what it will be like and think about next steps.  Being a bit on edge keeps me focused on the fact that my current job is probably not my last job, and I keep myself open to opportunities as well as constantly net-working.  No matter how I leave a job, I’ve given it some thought and am at least somewhat prepared.

Hubby can laugh all he wants.  He’ll be the one crying as we leave the resort.  Since I’ve already thought about it, I’m prepared to handle the situation.  I’ll bring a box of tissues for him.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Complicated Simplicity

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Have you noticed how complicated life seems to be nowadays?  We’re connected to everyone at all times through devices made to simplify our lives.  Many of us are working several jobs trying to make ends meet, the result of a lay-off.
I used to think that things would get simpler with age and experience. Not sure where I got this crazy idea.  Guess it was my younger self imagining that I would have figured everything out in terms of career, love, family and friends, and my life would sort of hum along at a good, steady pace.
LOL!  Even reading my last sentence has me laughing between the tears of stress.
Instead of things being easier and less-stressful, it’s completely the opposite.  Mortgage, career, relationships, aging parents, trying to keep some sort of social life.  More responsibility, more pressure.  And we don’t have kids!  I shudder to think of how something as precious as a baby would complicate things.  
Now my dog is looking at me like I’ve totally dissed her. I will concede that my wonderful four-legged daughter does add some complexity to our lives.  Especially when she refuses to take a bathroom break in the rain for fear of getting her fur wet.
How did life get so complex?  For me it started in high school.  I was a “joiner”, belonging to numerous clubs and organizations. My calendar was filled to the brim with meetings, dance classes, drill team practice, social events and work.  Not sure how I managed to study, but I did, bringing home straight A’s.
This need to always be busy or attempt to over-achieve has followed me into adulthood.  Like gum stuck to the bottom of my shoe, I cannot seem to break away from busyness.   Yes, it’s good to have interests and be busy.  But sometimes too much of a good thing turns into a bad thing.
When the lay-offs hit our family, both Hubby and I took on as many consulting gigs and other work roles as we could find.  The good news is that we discovered new interests and found that there are lots of ways to make money.   Hubby found out he’s a good and passionate teacher, keeping this part time gig even after going back to work full time.  I rediscovered my creative side and have a new-found joy in writing, in addition to consulting and mentoring.
All good, right?
The problem with having too much of a good thing is that it suddenly isn’t fun anymore.  By trying to do it all, I find I’m running out of steam. Frustration is building.  Taking on every consulting gig, writing opportunities, networking, family obligations, mentoring and other stuff has my head spinning.  Social life and relaxation?  What’s that?  Social life is completely gone, whittled down to an occasional dinner with friends.  Hubby and I are so busy that relaxation seems like a luxury reserved for special occasions.  At best we live for Friday nights, when we take a couple hours to have dinner and try to catch up with each other.  
So what should a person do?  Of course the answer is to eliminate or pare down the work load.  But the answer is complicated in its simplicity. What do we give up?  The things that provide the most pleasure are not necessarily the ones that pay the bills.  Yet if we give up things that bring joy, we’re stuck in a rut of simply existing. 
And don’t get me started on the electronic devices.  Smart phones and tablets, in addition to the computer, have made it too easy for us to always be “on”.  Yet I’m addicted to these devices in a love-hate relationship that’s next to impossible to break. 
I don’t have the answers except to say that I’m working through things right now.  While I chat on the phone, type on the computer and check email on my iPad. 
Breaking up is really hard to do.
© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Happy Birthday to My Blog

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A year ago today, Hubby and I were sitting in the home office, trapped in the house due to an ice-storm.  Both of us were at our computers. He was working; I was surfing the net for job opportunities and playing the occasional game of solitaire.  As I tried to stay warm, it dawned on me that exactly one year earlier I had been laid off. 
I started thinking about my year and remembered that only a few months earlier I had begun to write about my journey through unemployment. The intention was that I would start a blog.  But I let my personal doubts and fears creep in, thinking “why would anyone want to read this?” and “I’ll be embarrassed to let anyone read my writing”.     
I guess the ice storm froze all my fears, and as we shivered in the home office I plugged in the flash drive loaded with my writing.  Overcome by a moment of bravery, I wrote my first blog post and alerted the world through Facebook. 
Immediately I regretted my decision, certain that friends across the country were laughing at my writing.  Fear was back. I pulled a blanket over my head so no one could see me cry.
Within seconds I had my first response.  Hubby had to read it to me; I was too nervous.  “It’s good!” he said.  “They like your post”.  
A tiny bit of courage started pushing my fear aside.  A few days later I wrote another post and broadened my audience.  More good response and lots of encouragement from friends to keep writing. Tales of the Terminated™ was born!
It’s been a year of writing and I’ve loved every minute of it.  My heart-felt thanks to everyone for your encouragement and support.  My writing has been fun as well as therapeutic.  It brought the opportunity to write a monthly column for the paper.  And most surprising of all, it has helped me find work. 
Funny to think that my personal tales from the lay-off have provided a silver lining to an otherwise dark cloud.   
Tales of the Terminated™ is far from done. I’ve got so many personal tales as a result of the lay-off.  And I’m no longer afraid to share my thoughts and observations with the rest of the world.
Happy 1st Birthday, Tales of the Terminated™.  I’m so proud of you.
© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Competitive Careering

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To say I’m competitive is an understatement.  Every time I complete something at work or in my personal life, I immediately begin to evaluate what I would do better next time. Just ask Hubby.  We’ve been married fifteen years and I’m still evaluating our wedding and reception, looking at things I would do differently if I had a chance to do it over. Not that I’m looking for that chance, but the perfectionist/competitor in me just doesn’t stop.
I’d tweak my dress a bit, add a trumpet to the music, wear different shoes and most importantly, I’d eat something at the reception.  I’m sure the food was great; we just didn’t get any of it.
With everything I do, it’s like I’m in a race to be the best.  Sometimes it’s against me, if there’s no one else to compete with.
Not sure where I got this competitive streak; it’s not like I played competitive sports or anything.  It probably started in elementary school with competitive recess. Who can jump rope longest? Climb the monkey bars faster?
Whether it’s getting the best grades, being in the best club, having the best outfit, succeeding at work – I always want to be the best. Even having the best room in a hotel is a big deal.  Yep, it can be really hard to live with me.  Hubby is not saying a word about this last statement.  Smart man.
So you can imagine how I felt upon receiving an email from that ever-popular networking site Linked In, informing me that a former colleague had been promoted to President of a global company.  How fabulous! Of course I immediately sent a note offering my heartfelt congratulations.
While I do wish him well and I’m sure he’s very deserving, there’s a part of me that’s a tiny bit envious.  OK, a lot envious. Completely and utterly envious, jealous and every other similar word you can think of.
Thoughts of “why him?” run through my head.  I’m just as smart, why isn’t this me?  What’s wrong with me and my career? Waa, waa, waa, I cry at this pity-party. Instead of feeling great for him – after all this is his news – I feel caught in a competitive trap, that somehow my career is not as good, that I’m not living up to my potential and that fate has indeed struck me a raw deal. 
The excuses run through my mind.  “I’m not able to move half-way around the world for work”, “Those jobs probably require incredible sacrifice”, and my favorite excuse, “He must have naked pictures of the executives”. 
Truth be told, there are probably numerous reasons why he’s excelling. He’s smart, he has indeed made personal sacrifices and he’s worked his butt off. 
It’s hard not to compare ourselves to others.  The things we strive for at work – title, money, prestige, accomplishment – add up to one thing: confidence.  I know, I know, we shouldn’t place all of our worth on our career.  Perhaps if I had children I could channel some of this competitive energy towards my kids so they could excel at recess. 
I know I’m not alone in feeling less-than-successful when hearing news of someone else’s career advancement.  Such feelings become amplified if we’re stuck in a job we don’t like or if we’ve been laid-off.  Good news from others can be a bitter pill to swallow.
Here’s a radical idea: let’s just be happy with our own accomplishments, rather than tethering our feelings of success to a comparative analysis of someone else! 
Did I just hear crickets?  I can tell by your silence you think I’ve lost my mind.
Actually I agree with you.  The idea of being happy with ourselves and our career without comparing ourselves to others is powerful, although incredibly difficult to achieve. I find myself at odds with this concept all the time.   
 Dad always used to tell me “just do your best and that’s good enough”.  I wish it were that simple.
© Tami Cannizzaro 2012  All Rights Reserved