Funeral for a Friend

by -

(Today is a departure from my usual humor. Bear with me; this means a lot to me.)
Recently I was shocked to learn that a long-time friend had passed away.  Opening the paper to the obituary section, his face jumped out at me and my heart fell. 
We had been friends for what seems like forever.  We were the kind of friends that may not speak regularly, sometimes communicating through Christmas cards alone.   But we were always there for each other.
He could make me laugh with his stories.  He came to my side when I was recovering from life-threatening illness. He was pivotal in helping my family when dad died.   Learning of his death rattled me to my core.
The visitation at the funeral home was difficult since I had no idea he had been sick.  Such a private individual, I’m sure he didn’t want anyone fussing over him.  Cancer is never a good thing, is it?
I needed to be there. To express my condolences to his life-partner and extended family.  I needed to be there for myself too, to understand what happened and say good-bye.
What breaks my heart the most is not learning that he suffered from cancer.  It was hearing that, like many of us, he had lost his job some time ago.  Always difficult for anyone.  It’s my understanding that in his final months and days, as he battled illness, he felt like a failure. Simply because he lost his job.
My fear is that there are many people who feel like a failure because of a job loss.                                Listen to me, people: you are not a failure. 
We are so much more than our jobs. While we know this deep down, it’s still a difficult concept for many of us to accept.  But please take a step back and relish your success: your friends, your family, your skills, your education, your health.  A job loss is insignificant in comparison.
If you know someone who’s lost their job, reach out to them.  Just in case they might be feeling less-than successful.  
I wish I had known that you were suffering, my friend.  I’ll miss you and your caring spirit. Rest in peace. 

My Car, My Think Tank

by -

Inspiration comes at the oddest times and in the strangest places.
First I should explain that my mind is one that seems to be in constant motion. I’m always thinking. Not necessarily lofty thoughts either – if that were the case I’m sure I would have made better grades in college physics.
It’s just that I’m usually thinking quickly about several things at the same time, moving from one thought to the next at lightning speed. This can be a communication issue when talking to my hubby.  He’s still pondering my question, “what shall we have for dinner”, while I’ve moved on to “the car needs gas”, “mom’s on her way over” and “let’s book the flights for vacation”.  Let me assure you that “chicken” is not the right answer to the vacation question. 
It’s not hubby’s fault. My mind moves faster than even I can process, which can be good but most the time it’s a nuisance.  I’ll have a fabulous idea but before I can truly think about it, my mind is on to something else.  And I’ve forgotten my fabulous idea.
This has been happening to me a lot lately.  Quite frankly, I’m getting tired of my lack of focus.  I want to sit at my desk, creative ideas flowing without forgetting them in a nanosecond.
Luckily I’m able to find calm, relaxing places that allow my mind to wander and the creativity just flows.  Bad news is these places are a bit unusual.
Take my car, for example. A VW New Beetle, complete with the bud vase and flowers, it’s a great source of inspiration for me.  Not sure whether it’s simply the look of the car, or perhaps I unknowingly purchased the premium model that emits creative energy when the engine is on.  Whatever it is, the Beetle has become a think-tank for me.
It never fails either. I’ll be driving down the road listening to Gaga, or U2 or whoever and creative ideas and thoughts just flow one after the other. It takes forever to get to my destination because I’m constantly pulling over to record my ideas so I won’t forget them.
Walking the dog can also be a good way to gather thoughts.  Just me and my pooch strolling in the neighborhood.  Listening to the sounds of nature and the cadence of Kylie’s trot, here come the creative ideas.  Embarrassing part is that I’ve noticed I talk to myself while I’m doing this, trying to keep track of all my thoughts. I’m sure the neighbors have written me off as the crazy person walking her dog and carrying a bag of poop.
Yet apparently for me, the absolute best time and place for creative thinking is on Sunday. In church. During the sermon.  How embarrassing! My minister is not going to like this. 
The lights are dim, the air is cool and I’ve got nowhere to go for a good 20 – 30 minutes.  It’s perfect!
I’m sure others sitting near me think I’m taking copious notes about the lesson. Nope, I’m frantically scribbling my ideas in the margin of the bulletin before my thoughts escape me.  There’s almost a rhythm here: listen, get creative idea, write notes about idea, listen again.

Except, of course, that I’m supposed to be listening intently to the great life lesson set before me each week. My sincere apologies to our wonderfully gifted minister. I really do hear your message. Maybe you’re a bit too inspirational?
While my ability to multi-task has served me well during my career, my busy mind is not so productive in this new phase of work when I’m trying to be creative and focused.   That requires one to be calm. If you’ve met me, I doubt “laid-back” and “calm” are words you use to describe me. 
I should be able to sit at my desk in our beautifully remodeled office and be inspired.  After all, we spent big bucks trying to make it an oasis for working at home.
What’s happening to me? Is this a product of the layoff, not having one big thing (work) to focus on while instead my mind tries to process multiple unrelated tasks?  After all, I’m not used to running a household and trying to build my business and trying to interview and work a part-time job at the same time.   Not to mention the other distractions around me, like laundry and swimming pool and TV.
Maybe this is just a phase I’m going through. Or maybe it’s one of the life lessons I was supposed to learn on Sunday.  Who knows? 
Just be patient with me if you see me walking the dog, talking to myself. I’m harmless, although I am carrying a loaded bag of poop.

Interviews and Oscars

by -

So I’m watching the Oscars right now. Not very interesting on a number of levels, mainly because I haven’t seen the nominated movies.  Yeah, yeah, I know – what do I do with my spare time?
The whole Oscar thing reminds me of interviewing.   First, how many times have some of these actors been nominated, yet they’ve never gone home with a trophy?  In interviewing terms, I’ve been nominated dozens of times in the past months. No golden statue for me either.
When the nomination does finally come in, then what?  I’m sure the actors get excited and nervous. Then they start thinking about what to wear (especially the women). And hopefully they prepare an acceptance speech, just in case.    
Unfortunately, some of the actors I’m seeing tonight haven’t practiced their acceptance speech.  How could they come to such an important event so unprepared?  Were they beaten down by past experiences, where they were nominated yet went home without the prize? 
I sort of understand where they’re coming from.  If you’re like me, a person in career transition, you’ve gone on multiple interviews only to never hear from the company again.   And how many of us have accepted an interview even though we’re not certain it’s the right job?   I’ll admit that I’ve done it.  In those instances I have to pull out all the stops, put my game face on, memorize my lines, and remember to thank those who gave me the opportunity. 
Because going in to an interview is kind of like the Oscars: in order to get the job, we have to put on an academy-award winning performance.   In order to get the trophy, we have to be prepared.
Easier said than done, at least for me.  I have to focus all my energy on the interview, review my notes, and not worry about whether I’ll receive an offer.  I have to forget all those other interviews where I came home without the trophy – this time, I could actually win.  My passion and personal character need to shine through the academy-award winning performance so the interviewer can see the ‘real’ me. The acceptance speech can come later.
My hunch is that the best acceptance speeches are those in which the actor has reviewed their notes, and prepared at least an outline even though they aren’t sure they’re going to win.  Then they can deliver yet another academy-award winning performance, just like the one that got them nominated in the first place.
The show is about half-way through and I still think this particular Oscar show is boring.  But it has reminded me to review my notes, practice my lines and get ready for my close-up. 
Who knows? Maybe this time – the umpteenth time I’ve been nominated – I’ll be asked to give an acceptance speech. And I want to be ready.

I’ve Met the Future

by -

There they were, staring at me. All 35 of them, notebooks open, pens poised, waiting for me to say something so smart, so encouraging, that it would forever change their lives. 
Yeah, right – who do they think I am? 
As each entered the room, they stole glances at the “guest”. Was it OK to say hi to me?  Or should they simply find a seat and remain silent?  A few smiles dotted the room here and there.  Little did they know that I was the one sweating.  Seriously, I think I was sweating bullets. Deodorant failure was imminent.
Who do they think I am? Apparently some uber-important person who took time to enter their world for a few hours.  Caught between being embarrassed and having the feeling of a rock-god, I must admit that it was fun to feel important. Even for a brief period of time.
Who am I, really?  I’m a guest lecturer at Texas A&M, my alma mater.  A volunteer, if you will.  This opportunity started out some years ago as simply my way of giving back to the university that means so much to me, through different mentoring opportunities, presentations, panel discussions, etc.  The past few years I’ve been fortunate to serve as a guest lecturer in a graduate marketing class.  What an amazing opportunity – something that I feel fortunate to have, and one that I take very seriously.  
And as I’ve said before, volunteering is one of the benefits of having some extra time. You know, from the lay-off.
They tell me that I’m good at this, that the students get something useful from my presentations and the discussions we have. Guess I do alright, since they keep asking me to come back.  Funny thing is I’m the one who is really getting the benefit here.
After all, it hardly seems like I have anything to share that would be of importance to these incredibly gifted minds. They are students at the best university anywhere (in my humble alumni opinion), with amazing faculty and incredible resources at their fingertips. What could I possibly have to share that would help them achieve their goals? 
Apparently years of work experience count for something other than a paycheck and paying Uncle Sam. OK, it counts for A LOT.
Think about it – when you were a student, wouldn’t you have loved access to someone working in your field of study?  Someone who would tell you how it really is out in the work world, a person who would help you connect the dots between course work and actually working at the job? Someone who could help you think outside of what you know,  brainstorm ways to leverage your degree and possibly serve as an occasional mentor?
To me, marketing and PR is just what I do. Nothing special. To the students, it’s the ‘real deal’ and sharing my experiences helps them break out of the academia for a bit to see that opportunities are out there for them – tons of opportunities – if they will just look.
Laid off or not, I challenge you to make time to volunteer. Doesn’t have to be with students – pick something that interests you.  If you’re a marketer, help a non-profit.  An engineer with a gift for all things mechanical? Help a neighbor fix something in the house.  Teach. Talk. Share. Do. Be present for others.  Your experience definitely counts for something, and the feeling you get from helping is unbelievable.
I’ve met the future and they stared back at me. Boy, is the future bright.