What is the sound of someone who is NOT asking for help?
No. Really ... I need to know. Because I'm apparently doing it wrong. The "not asking for help" part, I mean.
I recently have been given some drama in my life (manageable drama, but drama just the same) and it seems like each time I update those not-so-near but still-quite-dear on the state of said drama, I get advice of what I should do, not do, read up on, etc.
And I don't get it. I really don't.
Each time this occurs (and yes, it has happened more than once), I review what I wrote or said, carefully scanning for the part where I ask for any guidance, opinions or assistance. And damned if I just can't find it.
Now in the arena of playing fair, I WILL say that out of the immediate family of which I am a part, I have *always* been the one who played her cards close to her vest. I've never really been the one to share every little detail - good or bad - because I guess I didn't want to be viewed as a whiner or a braggart. Annnnnnnd, seeing as how I know an awful lot of fairly personal details about my various cousins, I also didn't want my personal business being digested, discussed, debated, and distributed. So it wasn't always pride which helped me to keep my mouth shut - sometimes it was just my only means of protection of privacy.
So it is no surprise, really, that pretty much ANYtime I disclose something that may be going on with me, it feels like big news. (And if it feels that way to me, it's probably not too much of a stretch to say that it may feel like that to my family, too.)
But - sharing what is going on versus asking for advice ... those aren't the same, are they? I mean - it'd be one thing to say "I've decided to join a gym" ... and something different to say "I've decided to join a gym. Do you have any recommendations?"
My overall REAL problem is that I haven't found a polite way to get the advice to NOT flow freely. After all, those giving the advice are only doing so as a way of offering support. There's no nice way ... no non-defensive-sounding way - of saying "I've decided to join a gym. I'm just telling you. There is absolutely no action required from you whatsoever. The best response you could give would be to just say 'neat' and then drop it completely."
I'm grateful that I have people in my life who care about me - it's a wonderful problem to have, I know. And, like the other issues in my life, it's not a problem I need SOLVED.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
Feeling Good In The 'Hood
Life isn't a board game. Life is a city ... and it has many 'hoods.
Early in childhood, there is no dignity. The average child thinks very little of begging, pleading, pitching a fit, running about naked, whining, crying, bargaining, or generally doing whatever it takes to get what they want (or to get away from what they don't want). Childhood also seems to give us VERY short memories, which probably contributes to the equation. Most adults do not remember each time they begged, pleaded, pitched fits, etc as children ... but it sure seemed important at the time. With all those tantrums and whatnot, some would say that these actions are lack of self-awareness, lack of modesty, lack of ego - but, when all is said and done, if you plug in an adult in any of those situations, you'd probably think that they had little - or no - dignity ... and maybe short-term memory loss.
Teens also lack dignity. Yes, the level of fit-pitching, whining, crying, or bargaining may be different ... but it is hard and unusual to find a dignity-filled teen. (A teen running around naked would present entirely other issues, lack of dignity being the smallest problem.) They have moments of dignity, where the future adult they'll become shines through and it is WONDERFUL to witness, but then they slip back into teenager-hood.
But, somewhere down the line, human grown-ups (which is to say MOST human grown-ups) find their dignity. That line in the sand we stand behind and say "Yes, I want this outcome and am willing to do most anything to get there ... but there is a limit." This is the age of "adulthood".
Just when we get comfortable with our dignity ... just when we feel we have the most control over how we present ourselves and we are good with our self-image ... life, once again, starts to slowly chip away at our dignity.
The paperboy or grocery clerk who calls you "Ma'am".
*clink*
The polite teen who turns down their MP3 device in the elevator and apologizes for it being so loud.
*tap*
The coworker who refers to an event in history (several years before you were born) and turns to you to ask you what your memories were of that time.
*crack*
The movie theater cashier who gives you a senior discount ... for your 45th birthday.
*thwap*
The well-intentioned stranger who compliments your children for good behavior by commenting "My but they're using all their manners for Grandpop today, aren't they?"
*thud*
It is the perfect set up that we, as humans, slowly revert back into childhood the older we get. First fighting and resisting all offers of help ... but eventually accepting the fact that we cannot bend over to tie our own shoes without getting dizzy, cannot read the small writing at the bottom of the form because our arms aren't long enough, and our modesty, our ego, and yes, our dignity, slowly melt away with each event, no matter how small.
And you realize that you're being moved from your existing "hood" to make room for the newer (and younger) residents.
The trick - if there is one - may be to recognize and appreciate the hood you're in when you're there, fully realizing you'll be transitioning to another hood soon enough. It's when you're asked to move too early that the transition is difficult - when you're still enjoying your dignity and someone else says "we're looking out for you and helping you to get comfortable when you move to your new hood." No one wants to be reminded that they are temporary residents in their hood.
Now ... get off my lawn and outta my hood.
Early in childhood, there is no dignity. The average child thinks very little of begging, pleading, pitching a fit, running about naked, whining, crying, bargaining, or generally doing whatever it takes to get what they want (or to get away from what they don't want). Childhood also seems to give us VERY short memories, which probably contributes to the equation. Most adults do not remember each time they begged, pleaded, pitched fits, etc as children ... but it sure seemed important at the time. With all those tantrums and whatnot, some would say that these actions are lack of self-awareness, lack of modesty, lack of ego - but, when all is said and done, if you plug in an adult in any of those situations, you'd probably think that they had little - or no - dignity ... and maybe short-term memory loss.
Teens also lack dignity. Yes, the level of fit-pitching, whining, crying, or bargaining may be different ... but it is hard and unusual to find a dignity-filled teen. (A teen running around naked would present entirely other issues, lack of dignity being the smallest problem.) They have moments of dignity, where the future adult they'll become shines through and it is WONDERFUL to witness, but then they slip back into teenager-hood.
But, somewhere down the line, human grown-ups (which is to say MOST human grown-ups) find their dignity. That line in the sand we stand behind and say "Yes, I want this outcome and am willing to do most anything to get there ... but there is a limit." This is the age of "adulthood".
Just when we get comfortable with our dignity ... just when we feel we have the most control over how we present ourselves and we are good with our self-image ... life, once again, starts to slowly chip away at our dignity.
The paperboy or grocery clerk who calls you "Ma'am".
*clink*
The polite teen who turns down their MP3 device in the elevator and apologizes for it being so loud.
*tap*
The coworker who refers to an event in history (several years before you were born) and turns to you to ask you what your memories were of that time.
*crack*
The movie theater cashier who gives you a senior discount ... for your 45th birthday.
*thwap*
The well-intentioned stranger who compliments your children for good behavior by commenting "My but they're using all their manners for Grandpop today, aren't they?"
*thud*
It is the perfect set up that we, as humans, slowly revert back into childhood the older we get. First fighting and resisting all offers of help ... but eventually accepting the fact that we cannot bend over to tie our own shoes without getting dizzy, cannot read the small writing at the bottom of the form because our arms aren't long enough, and our modesty, our ego, and yes, our dignity, slowly melt away with each event, no matter how small.
And you realize that you're being moved from your existing "hood" to make room for the newer (and younger) residents.
The trick - if there is one - may be to recognize and appreciate the hood you're in when you're there, fully realizing you'll be transitioning to another hood soon enough. It's when you're asked to move too early that the transition is difficult - when you're still enjoying your dignity and someone else says "we're looking out for you and helping you to get comfortable when you move to your new hood." No one wants to be reminded that they are temporary residents in their hood.
Now ... get off my lawn and outta my hood.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Balancing Vision and Ego
Once upon a time, I worked at NeXT.
I remember my time there as an on-going effort to keep the Design and Engineering departments focused and organized while they tried to keep up with the constantly shifting direction from "upper management". While it was a challenging environment to work in (to say the least), I remember it as a campus filled with energized, motivated and largely happy people.
I don't think anyone working there ever really doubted Mr. Jobs or his decisions, but the sheer amount of change the employee base was exposed to (a layoff of more than 50% of the entire staff base, going from the hardware to software business, moving facilities, partnering with companies we actively avoided in the past) ... I guess he didn't make many friends there towards the end before being brought back into the Apple orchard.
I was "just a temp" at the time. I'd decided I'd accomplished all I could at my previous employer and contacted an agency to find me something where I'd be challenged and rewarded appropriately for achievement. Which was a nice way of saying "get me into the electronics industry where the real money is". I was sent to interview at NeXT, which was interesting because the last time I'd driven around in part of the Bay Area was when it was near the city dump. Now, it was an industrial park with signs and green lawns and paved roads. It was beautiful, yanno, for being a collection of buildings near a dump and all.
The interview went well and the folks I talked to seemed really smart. They told the agency they wanted to get me under contract, and the agency said that'd be fine. I enjoyed my job, liked my staff, and was kept busy. However, my agency kept reminding me that it was a temporary assignment. And, in time, that began to bother me. After all - my manager and I worked well together ... and everyone SEEMED to think I was working out well ... but whenever I mentioned how things were going to the agency, the response would be "well that's great. Just remember, it's a temporary job." I'd be reminded of that each time I looked at my employee badge stamped "Contract Worker" or turned in a time sheet ... it got old and, frankly, a little insulting.
I started interviewing.
Since I was "just a temp", I guess I didn't feel I owed my manager an explanation or any advance warning. After all, I figured he had set up the contract and he knew it was a temporary assignment. I found what would become my new job on the first interview. The pay was incredible, the benefits were embarrassingly great, the location was perfect, I'd have my own office, make my own hours ... there was quite literally no downside to the job, except that it wasn't the temp job I already had with the staff I already knew.
A background check was conducted and when the offer letter was sent, I felt like framing it. It was the first time I'd be working for "more than my age" in thousands. (When I shared that with my sister, I learned she also measured her first real job offer that same way.) All the while, I wished I could just stay put, but there was no point in asking for what I already had been told I couldn't have. It was both exciting and frustrating - to see what could be but to know I couldn't be a part of it.
When the offer was written up, I went to my temp job and sat down with my manager. Honestly I figured he wouldn't care either way. Even so, I was still giving him 2 weeks notice and offered to train whomever would be the next temp. I felt I owed him that ... I'd been there for 8 months after all, even if I was "just a temp" and wasn't worth hiring. He looked at the offer letter and then up at me. "You accepted this already?" "I did. I want a regular job and since it can't be here, I think I can do well at this new place." He sighed. "I've been getting approvals for your offer letter for a few weeks now. It's for a higher salary than this. If I can get it to you before the end of today, will you call off the other job?"
It seemed that the "temp only" part of my assignment was the idea of the agency. After all, they got a payment for each week I was there. As long as I was a temp, they'd keep getting paid. (In my defense, it was the first time I'd worked for an agency and I was very young. I should have figured this out on my own, I know, but it didn't occur to me.) My temp staff, temp manager, temp co-workers, temp company really DID like me and appreciated my work. And, when I explained to my temp manager that I'd accepted and signed the offer letter of the new job and didn't want to go back on my word, he wasn't just gracious - he was proud of me for getting the offer and for having enough integrity to follow through, even if he was disappointed that I'd never had the guts to just ask for what I wanted, no matter who was telling me I couldn't have it.
Steve Jobs was once wildly criticized for having a huge ego when he responded to the comment "Apple builds what people want" by saying that no, that was wrong and that Apple showed people what they wanted before they even knew they wanted it. As it turned out, that WASN'T "ego" talking ... that was "vision". A lot of people today are using the word "visionary" because most of the successful CEO's we know by name only have "ego". The industry and the population it serves suffered a loss yesterday and it'll be a long while before we see that kind of "ego/vision" balance again.
I remember my time there as an on-going effort to keep the Design and Engineering departments focused and organized while they tried to keep up with the constantly shifting direction from "upper management". While it was a challenging environment to work in (to say the least), I remember it as a campus filled with energized, motivated and largely happy people.
I don't think anyone working there ever really doubted Mr. Jobs or his decisions, but the sheer amount of change the employee base was exposed to (a layoff of more than 50% of the entire staff base, going from the hardware to software business, moving facilities, partnering with companies we actively avoided in the past) ... I guess he didn't make many friends there towards the end before being brought back into the Apple orchard.
I was "just a temp" at the time. I'd decided I'd accomplished all I could at my previous employer and contacted an agency to find me something where I'd be challenged and rewarded appropriately for achievement. Which was a nice way of saying "get me into the electronics industry where the real money is". I was sent to interview at NeXT, which was interesting because the last time I'd driven around in part of the Bay Area was when it was near the city dump. Now, it was an industrial park with signs and green lawns and paved roads. It was beautiful, yanno, for being a collection of buildings near a dump and all.
The interview went well and the folks I talked to seemed really smart. They told the agency they wanted to get me under contract, and the agency said that'd be fine. I enjoyed my job, liked my staff, and was kept busy. However, my agency kept reminding me that it was a temporary assignment. And, in time, that began to bother me. After all - my manager and I worked well together ... and everyone SEEMED to think I was working out well ... but whenever I mentioned how things were going to the agency, the response would be "well that's great. Just remember, it's a temporary job." I'd be reminded of that each time I looked at my employee badge stamped "Contract Worker" or turned in a time sheet ... it got old and, frankly, a little insulting.
I started interviewing.
Since I was "just a temp", I guess I didn't feel I owed my manager an explanation or any advance warning. After all, I figured he had set up the contract and he knew it was a temporary assignment. I found what would become my new job on the first interview. The pay was incredible, the benefits were embarrassingly great, the location was perfect, I'd have my own office, make my own hours ... there was quite literally no downside to the job, except that it wasn't the temp job I already had with the staff I already knew.
A background check was conducted and when the offer letter was sent, I felt like framing it. It was the first time I'd be working for "more than my age" in thousands. (When I shared that with my sister, I learned she also measured her first real job offer that same way.) All the while, I wished I could just stay put, but there was no point in asking for what I already had been told I couldn't have. It was both exciting and frustrating - to see what could be but to know I couldn't be a part of it.
When the offer was written up, I went to my temp job and sat down with my manager. Honestly I figured he wouldn't care either way. Even so, I was still giving him 2 weeks notice and offered to train whomever would be the next temp. I felt I owed him that ... I'd been there for 8 months after all, even if I was "just a temp" and wasn't worth hiring. He looked at the offer letter and then up at me. "You accepted this already?" "I did. I want a regular job and since it can't be here, I think I can do well at this new place." He sighed. "I've been getting approvals for your offer letter for a few weeks now. It's for a higher salary than this. If I can get it to you before the end of today, will you call off the other job?"
It seemed that the "temp only" part of my assignment was the idea of the agency. After all, they got a payment for each week I was there. As long as I was a temp, they'd keep getting paid. (In my defense, it was the first time I'd worked for an agency and I was very young. I should have figured this out on my own, I know, but it didn't occur to me.) My temp staff, temp manager, temp co-workers, temp company really DID like me and appreciated my work. And, when I explained to my temp manager that I'd accepted and signed the offer letter of the new job and didn't want to go back on my word, he wasn't just gracious - he was proud of me for getting the offer and for having enough integrity to follow through, even if he was disappointed that I'd never had the guts to just ask for what I wanted, no matter who was telling me I couldn't have it.
Steve Jobs was once wildly criticized for having a huge ego when he responded to the comment "Apple builds what people want" by saying that no, that was wrong and that Apple showed people what they wanted before they even knew they wanted it. As it turned out, that WASN'T "ego" talking ... that was "vision". A lot of people today are using the word "visionary" because most of the successful CEO's we know by name only have "ego". The industry and the population it serves suffered a loss yesterday and it'll be a long while before we see that kind of "ego/vision" balance again.
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