The Vice-President and the F-Bomb

People can say what they would like about Joe Biden's vice-presidential slip, but I, for one, appreciate his candor.

Too often today messages are sugar coated, and no where is this more true than in business. Employers toss around certain lines as often as Vice-President Biden apparently throws around the F-bomb.

You are not the right fit. Your skill set is not what we had in mind. We are looking for someone with more industry experience.

For once it would be refreshing for a hiring manager to simplify these words, to cut through the static, and to tell it like it is. Because, if we are honest with ourselves, we know that 95% of the time any iteration of one of the statements above basically means, "In our opinion, you are not smart (or talented, or able) enough to do this job."

Sure, hearing the truth may sting momentarily. Like the quick removal of a band-aid, though, it seems as if the truth is easier to take than the confusion as to what went wrong.

We have all experienced the "it is not you, it is me" conversation during one break-up or another. Whenever a soon-to-be-ex-significant other uses these words, you can be pretty sure of one thing - the problem definitely has something to do with you. The same is true in business.


Tell me like it is. Tell me that I am not smart enough, or tall enough, or creative enough, or outgoing enough, or fill-in-the-blank enough to be successful in your organization or at your company. But, tell me the truth. I want to know what to work on and, perhaps, what to look for in a future job and I can only do this effectively if I understand what went wrong this time around.

Sure, Biden's f-bomb may not go down in history alongside Lincoln's 'Four score and seven years ago' or Kennedy's 'Ask not what your country can do for you', but I give the Vice-President credit for saying what was on his mind.

And, I am going to follow his lead. From now on, I am going to be clear from the start. You know, I will tell my next interviewer, "I am a big f---ing deal and you would be lucky to have me."

I will let you know how it goes.

Rock Chalk Jayhawk

I met a friend for dinner last week. He was fall-out-of-his chair excited to tell me about the alumni event he had attended.

I met a friend for coffee last week. She was fixed-firmly-in-her-chair less-than-excited to tell me about the new job she had started.

I heard all about my friend’s old roommates - their bonding over orientation, their sharing of bunk beds, and their reliance on the dining hall's honey mustard.

My friend did not have an orientation process. She had no one to show her the ropes and felt a bit lost in her new environment.

He had professors who mentored and nurtured his abilities. One professor showed such a personal interest that he took many more classes with the professor and ended up majoring in the subject.

My friend’s boss was not clear about his expectations and did not seem to care much whether my friend would be successful at the organization. There was always someone else who could come in and do the job if she did not succeed.

Throughout dinner, my friend talked incessantly about his love for his alma mater, about the great work the school does for its students academically and socially, and about how anyone given the opportunity to attend should not think twice before accepting the offer. He wears sweatshirts and hats with the schools insignia (a bit too often if you ask me). He is, without realizing it, a walking endorsement for the college.

My friend has talked with me, and other friends, about how she has not enjoyed her time at her new organization. She suggests others should think twice before joining a similar type of organization. She is, without realizing it, a walking negative advertisement for the organization.

While considering my two friends experiences in parallel, it occurred to me that what colleges and universities do so well is exactly what so few organizations do well.

Colleges and universities work to develop and grow a positive rapport with its students from the first day of orientation through the first request for alumni donations. The result is a group of individuals who are passionate about their alma mater and who are eager to help make it the best.

Organizations work under the assumption that if an orientation is not in place, no harm will be done. If a new employee does not have a mentor, no major damage will result. What organizations are missing is that not doing harm and not causing damage are not the same as getting the most from people.

My friend proudly wears his college sweatshirt and will do anything possible to ensure his alma mater remains one of the finest institutions around.

My friend leaves at 4:59, to exit promptly at 5:00, and is sure that there must be a better organization around.

Post Valentine’s Day Fallout

Whether or not you consider yourself a “believer” in Valentine’s Day, the fallout from the holiday is hitting you about now.

(As a side note, I heard more people declare that they do not believe in Valentine’s Day this year than I ever remember hearing in past years. How can you not believe in a holiday that promotes love, but you can believe in Santa delivering gifts, the tooth fairy giving money, and Snookie offering up a comparison against which we all feel better about ourselves?)

Your planning, or lack thereof, has landed you in one of two categories. You are either a great (for the planners), or a less-than-great (for the non-planners) boyfriend / husband / partner / friend / son / daughter.

Whether or not we want to admit it, a great deal of significance is placed on one day. One day.

If you planned ahead and sent the card, made the phone call, and/or bought the flowers, you can refer to this display of thoughtfulness throughout the year. It is a crisp $100 dollar bill deposited into the bank of good will, able to be withdrawn at any point.

If you did not think it was a big deal, if the card still sits on your night stand, or if you forgot the holiday altogether, it is tough to bounce back from the oversight.

The same type of pressure seems to be placed on employees these days. Organizations want people to prove themselves quickly and to showcase their ability to deposit money into the bank, on behalf of the organization, at an even greater speed.

This need for immediate results makes sense. Times are tough and only the strong survive.

However, if you were to base your choice of a husband, boyfriend, or partner, your choice of a best friend, or, for those parents out there, your choice of a favorite child on the actions of one day, it seems likely that a poor decision could result.

Yes, each day is important, but it is a combination of days that creates a lasting impact. It is weeks and months of sustained effort that leads to success.

The flowers die and the cards gets tossed. You certainly do not want to be left, twiddling your thumbs, waiting around until the next Valentine’s Day for something great.

Similarly, organizations need to find the time, the patience, and the energy to look beyond one day or one week in order to consider people's long term value. Yes, making a sale, creating a paper, or giving a memorable presentation shortly after joining an organization is great.

However, there are 364 other days that both organizations and individuals need to consider when determining whether a person can be a valuable addition to a company or a life.

Susan Boyle, My Professional Role Model

I know that millions have seen the YouTube clip and that the story of Susan Boyle is, in many ways, so last year.

But I stumbled onto the audition footage again last week and was as taken by the improbable superstar this time as I was when her story first broke. (For those of you who live under a rock, the clip can be viewed at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7eOV2Pt_F-E&feature=related).

It all started with a question that is easy to ask, difficult to answer, and seemingly impossible to achieve. “What’s the dream?”

Difficult to hear over the rising laughter from the audience, Susan Boyle said she was, “trying to be a professional singer.”

“Why hasn’t it worked out so far, Susan?”

And this is the part that really struck me. At the age of 47, with years of disappointment behind her, Susan Boyle said, and still really believed, that she had not succeeded because she had “never been given the chance before, but here is hoping it will change.”

When the footage was first shown on TV, and then picked up by YouTube, I will admit it - I was one of the saps who watched the audition too many times in a row. Even more embarrassing is admitting that I again watched the clip back to back to back when I came across it last week.

I watch the clip on repeat because this is, I believe, the moment we all want to experience just once in our lives. The moment when what we have always wanted to do, what we are capable of doing, and what we are currently doing, intersect so beautifully.

A 47-year-old woman with an unfortunate hair cut made me tear up because we lived the moment in which she was given the chance to showcase her talent with her and she made the most of both her talent and her moment. The live audience, the judges, and I initially doubted her, just like she must have doubted herself millions of times throughout her life.

But, unlike so many of us, Susan Boyle had the strength and the belief that kept her moving forward.

We all wake up each morning and do something. My hope for myself is that I continue to move forward each day, just as Susan Boyle did, so that at some point I will also be able to reach the moment when my talents, my aspirations, and my current work combine to create a perfect storm of success and fulfillment.

And that is why I watch again and again and again. Because Susan Boyle is proof that there is a place where success and passion and talent meet and that this place is worth working towards no matter how long and bumpy the road.

We were wondering, what do you actually do?

I thought I had gotten off to a good start.

I rocked my red pumps (the female equivalent of a power tie), my pencil skirt, and my perfectly pressed white shirt. I greeted everyone who came within a first down marker of me. I said the right things during my meetings and introduced myself to the right people during my down time.

Perhaps this getting back to work thing would be not as difficult as I imagined.

This perspective changed quickly, though, towards the end of my second day when I was hit with the question. Yep, the question.

“We were wondering,” the most vocal member of a group of women who were getting ready to call it a day said to me, “What do you actually do?”

There were many things that I was hoping to hear from this group of women. “We are glad to have you on board.” “We are excited to have your skills on our team.” “We cannot wait to work with you further.” These all would have fit the bill.

“What do you actually do?” does not have quite the same ring to it. The irony, of course, is that I thought re-joining the workforce would answer this question, not perpetuate it.

Joining an organization or holding a title, I quickly learned, does not mean that your purpose or your goals instantly become clear. A job does not define a person. A person defines a job.

As many of us begin new jobs or begin second careers, it is important not to lose sight of this key difference. If you do not know what you actually do (or what you actually want to do), that is okay, and you are certainly not alone. Keep on doing something. And, even more importantly, keep on contemplating the question of what you want to do until you come up with something good.

The question the women posed to me is a fair one – what do you actually do?

And, I answered as truthfully as possible. “To be honest,” I said, “I am still trying to figure that out.”

Just Ten More Minutes, Please

Why are people so quick to equate success with waking up early?

Consider the fact that those who work late into the night should reach their goals before early risers even knock the alarms off their bedside tables. Does this make you think about the early bird in a different way?

As you may have guessed, I am a night person. I can work and innovate and create at all hours of the night. Ask me what my name is before 8 am and I will have to “check on that and get back to you.”

Some people are allergic to peanut butter, some to wheat, and some to milk. Me, I am allergic to morning. Since peanut butter is banned from school cafeterias to protect those with a sensitivity to JIF and wheat free products are made to ensure the health of those who react poorly to gluten, why can’t similar concessions be made so that I do not suffer through my attempts to wake up before the sun rises?

How, in the working world, is my allergy to the morning being considered?

As I move back into the office-based working world, dealing with my allergy to morning has been one of my biggest challenges. And my very biased observational research indicates that I am not alone in my disdain for those early hours.

People I pass on my walk to work have tears in their eyes and it seems likely that something more than the blustering wind is behind their unhappiness. People I enter my building alongside have looks of despair on their faces and I have to believe that something more than the few-too-many drinks imbibed the night before is at play.

This is definitely one of those “generational differences” people talk so much about. Twenty-somethings were not raised to think of nine-to-five jobs as the path to success. And, as organizations look to re-engage employees in a post recession economy, it seems the twenty-something concept of a flexible work schedule needs to be considered more seriously.

Not only do flexible work schedules serve as a perk at no financial cost to organizations, but these schedules also allow people to work when they are at their best.

If the goal at any organization is to do just that - to get people to do their best work - does it matter where the big and little hands are pointing when this work is being done?

Even A Stopped Clock Is Right Twice A Day

Last week my watch stopped. Annoying, I know.


I immediately thought of how even a stopped clock, despite its malfunctioning, is right twice a day. Since that day I have thought about this proverb more often than is, to be honest, necessary.


The irony of the stopped clock should not prevent me from thinking about more important things, such as health care reform and Don and Betty Draper's imminent divorce. I cannot get the stopped clock out of my head, though, because it occurs to me that the stopped clock has been “right” more often than I have in the past two weeks.


Talk about a shot to the ego.


Beyond the “non-working” label, I challenge you to find other similarities I share with the inanimate object. I can tell you that one key difference is that, unlike a stopped clock, my batteries are fully charged and ready to take on a new challenge.


Therefore, it seems that I would be “right” at least as often as chance alone would predict. Right?


I am no longer so sure, because in recent weeks I have been told that I am anything but right. I have been told that I have (brace yourself): too much experience, too little experience, too much academic, but not enough applied, experience, and good experience, but not the type required for this position. I have been told that I am (ready?) overqualified, under-qualified, sort-of qualified, and not quite qualified. Finally, I have been told that I would be (here it goes) bored on a job, overwhelmed by a job, and maybe/possibly bored on a job sometimes, but not necessarily, and maybe only slightly overwhelmed a few times a week, but not definitely.


Is it possible that I am less likely than a stopped clock to be at the right place, at the right time (no pun intended), with the right skill set?


Since I refuse to believe that a stopped clock sits just above me in the hiring food chain, I have moved to considering other explanations for why my skills and experiences so infrequently match up with what is being asked of job candidates.


I believe a big piece of the challenge I face is that, like most members of my generation, I have experiences that cannot neatly be tied together with a bright red bow. My experiences are diverse. My story is a bit messy.


In combination, my experiences carve out a career that does not match the expectations many human resources representatives and hiring executives have for a career. I have worked across industries, I have written on topics ranging from the cognitions of competitive golfers to the benefits of networking at your local bar, and I have mentored athletes, research teams, executives, and undergraduate students. I have also scooped ice cream.


I find myself with a resume that, I have been told, is tough to match. It seems this is proving to be true, as my resume does not match anyone's hiring criteria.


I believe a shift in how organizations think about job candidates may be needed. Current in-the-box job profiles mean that many qualified people with out-of-the-box experiences will never be considered.


Generational differences may be partly to blame. Consider that Boomers are more likely to be interviewing for jobs while Generation Y candidates are more likely be seeking jobs. Boomers, known for long careers, a focus in one industry, and a lifetime spent in the same organization, seem to be the oil to Generation Y's water.


Perhaps it is time to rethink the need for 10 years of experience to fill a particular position. Perhaps it is time to realize that people, across generations, are making mid-life career changes and that these changes make industry experience difficult to come by. Perhaps organizations need to recognize that a masters degree plus 10 years of experience means that no candidates under the age of 40 will even make it through the initial screening process.


A stopped clock is right twice a day.


I used to believe that I would be the right fit for a job at least this often. However, if strict guidelines regarding experience, education, and skill sets remain the main criteria for selection, I think I may not even be as lucky as a stopped clock.


Less lucky than a stopped clock. With these odds I am thinking a trip to Vegas is not in my near future. Nor, it seems, necessarily is an ideal job.