Ponytail Alert

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

Move...That...Foot!

Nothing promotes peace, love and harmony in a marriage more than a remodel, does it?  Multiple discussions about style, design and what to include in the remodel, not to mention budget, are all part of the fun.  Countless shopping trips to look at fixtures, furniture and hardware take the place of “date night”. 

The rule for remodels is pretty much the same as for vacations:  if you have time to do it, you don’t have the money.  If you have money to spend, you don’t have time.  It’s a vicious cycle, and it’s definitely proven true for us.

We love our home and knew from the get-go that remodeling would be part of the package. A fabulous contemporary built in the ‘70s, it suffered from the misguided decorating schemes of multiple owners who apparently tried to morph it into something it wasn’t.  Sort of like a mullet, our house was party/contemporary on the outside, business/traditional on the inside.

Over the years Hubby and I have lived through several remodels and are still speaking to each other.  Each remodel starts out the same.  We talk for months about what we’d like to do.  We pore over designs and Hubby sketches ideas.  We spend hours shopping.  The walls become a mosaic of paint colors as we paint a section, let it dry, stand and look at it with our heads cocked to one side as though the color will look better, giving each a ‘thumbs up’ or ‘thumbs down’.

We were just ready to embark on what would be the final remodel when the lay-offs hit, which of course put a halt to those plans.  (See the remodel rule mentioned earlier)  Now that money is better, it’s time for the final frontier: the master bedroom. We also received a call from 1976 asking if they could have their décor back. We are more than happy to accommodate. The wall of smoky disco mirrors cannot come down fast enough. 

As remodels go, this one is a piece of cake.  The wall of mirrors will be history; new sheet rock, texture the wall, paint and new carpet.  A few days, tops. And we can stay in the house.  Sure beats the 6 months we spent living with mom during the last remodel.  Timing should be perfect since our work schedules seem to be manageable.

And so it began this week.  Workmen arrived just as I received a text from Hubby that said, “I’ve just entered Hell. Don’t expect to see much of me this week.”  Glad he has lots of work, but this does not bode well.  OK, I thought, I can do this.  Our four-legged daughter can spend the days with grandma and my work is flexible.

Apparently Hubby and I totally forgot what it’s like to live through even the simplest remodel. As we came home the first night, we opened the door to the overwhelming smell of paint, dust and sealant.  The dog paced the house, flustered because her bed was now in the guest room.  The drawers from our chest lay on the living room floor, full of our underwear and socks. I love knowing that the workmen have seen my underwear.  Despite the fact that we had just cleaned the house, dust seemed to have settled everywhere.

We retreated to the other side of the house to escape the noxious odor and get some sleep, stepping around all of the bedroom ‘stuff’ that was stored in the hall.  That’s when we remembered what it’s like to go from a king bed to a queen.  A fight for the covers ensued, as well as a land-grab battle with each seeking claim to a portion of the bed.  I could feel myself becoming tense; why is this so difficult?  Then it happened. His foot on mine, clearly intending to steal more of the bed than was fair.  Trying to keep myself under control, with teeth clenched I said sternly, “Hubby, Move…That…Foot”.

Too bad HGTV or Extreme Home Makeover or some other reality show wasn’t here for this. Based on our dialogue that evening I’m sure we would have been chosen for “Real Couples of Home Remodels”. Lots of “remodel mama drama”.

By morning the drama had subsided. I won the Battle for the Covers; Hubby won the Land Grab. Not sure what happened to the pillows; I think they threw themselves off the bed to avoid the conflict. The dog was thankful that her bed was not in play. 

Only a few days, we keep telling ourselves, and we’ll be done remodeling for good.  Maybe.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Been There, Done That

My career so far has been great.  Well, not always. There was that unfortunate time right after graduation when I’d just spent 4 ½ years getting my degree, only to discover I had chosen the wrong career.  Seriously, a degree in engineering technology?  Spending my days determining which size rebar and steel columns to use in structures? What was I thinking?  Desperate for work I enjoyed, I enrolled in a graduate program that would allow me to get on the right career path. 

It was smooth sailing after that.  Well, sort of.  Graduating with an MBA, I did land my dream job with a world-class brand.  Yet I still had questions about my career, new opportunities and other things.

While I’ve enjoyed my work and successfully moved up the ranks at different companies, there have been – and still are - times when I need a shoulder.  The opportunity to speak with someone who’s “been there, done that”.  Someone who’s not related to me that will provide a tough-love dose of career reality every once in a while.  

After my rough career start, I decided that if I could ever help someone else navigate their career path and answer the questions that others can’t, I would do it.  It would be my way of giving back, paying it forward, or whatever you want to call it.  There’s no sense for others to go through the same thing I did – launching a career without a guide.

I’m not sure how or when I became a mentor but it’s something I’m passionate about; something I make time for at the expense of other things. It’s so important to me to provide the one thing I wish I had when I was starting out – an experienced individual to answer my questions and provide an objective opinion as well as helpful suggestions.  To provide insight that can only be obtained from having “been there, done that”.

And I’m not sure how I get connected with people who need to speak with someone with more career experience.  As an “official” mentor at my alma mater, I get assigned to students.  But most of the mentoring relationships happen randomly.  Sometimes it’s a friend of a friend; other times it’s the daughter/niece/nephew of someone I’ve met.  All pretty random.

On a recent visit to my alma mater I met some students in a most unusual place.  I had some time to kill before giving my presentation, so I found a bench in a quiet area of the business school and sat down. It just happened to be conveniently located near the restroom. 

While sitting there enjoying the feeling of college life, suddenly all the classrooms opened at once and the area was full of graduate students, apparently on a break from a long class.  I was observing them and of course they noticed me, all dressed up and clearly not a student. At some point a group of them caught my eye.  We engaged in a brief conversation about what they were studying, what they wanted to do when they graduated and where I worked.  I offered to connect with them on LinkedIn and passed out my business card, telling them to reference that we met near the restroom at the business school – that would trigger anyone’s memory, for sure. 

And guess what?  I’ve heard from all of the students.  We’ve scheduled phone meetings and conversed via email.  They ask all kinds of questions; some I expect and some that are new.  The biggest thing is that they are taking advantage of a chance meeting to speak with someone who’s “been there, done that”. 

We never know when or where we may meet someone who could help us with our career.  In fact, I wonder how many missed opportunities I passed by? Was there someone sitting near the restroom when I was in school? 

Same thing holds true for me now, even though I’ve got experience under my belt.  I always try to be aware of opportunities to meet someone new.  It could be at a networking event, or through colleagues and friends, or even at the gym. Maybe I could help them or they could help me, or maybe it’s just a one-time quick conversation.  You never know.

Rebar and steel columns?  Still makes me shudder. If only I’d been able to talk to someone who had “been there, done that”.   

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Office Mom

Oh no! I think it’s happened.  I may officially be considered “old”.  I am so not ready for this.

How could this be?  Sure, I “enhance” my natural hair color. Who doesn’t? And yeah, I have a couple of lines around the eyes but that has to be a result of the lay-off and the added stress. Can’t possibly have anything to do with age!

As a kid I remember looking at my parents and teachers, and of course considered them old and out of touch.  My parents were actually a bit more mature than most first-time parents when they had us, so I wasn’t too far off there.  But my teachers seemed ancient!  Looking back, I’m pretty sure most were in their 20’s, possibly early thirties.  Now that I’m an adult I realize how young my teachers were at the time.  At the time they seemed so worldly and full of experience - something that only comes with age.

In my mind, I’m not old at all.  I can keep up with the twenty-something crowd just fine. In fact, I was in an exercise boot camp with a bunch of twenty-something women not too long ago and they couldn’t keep up with me.  They may have been young and thin with good skin, but they were deceptively unfit. All good, until I realized that technically I could be mother to any of them. If I’d started having kids early, I remind myself.  Still, this is a heady thing to consider.    

A couple recent happenings brought the reality of my age top of mind.  The first time was a few weeks ago at my alma mater, when I was trying to find the entrance to the new basketball arena.  Feeling every bit like a college student, I strolled up to a group of coeds and asked for directions.  They seemed nice enough, until one of them called me “ma’am”.  I actually turned around to see who she was talking to, only to discover she meant me. I tried to brush it off, thinking that she had been raised properly and that anyone older than she was to be treated with respect. Fair enough, I thought.

Then it happened again, striking a blow of epic proportions to my ego. One of my colleagues, who happens to be part of the twenty-something crowd, started affectionately referring to me as the “office mom”.  The first time I heard this I was almost speechless. And to tell the truth, a bit insulted. How dare anyone refer to me as “mom”!  That’s not me; I’m wearing the same styles as everyone else here, reading the same books, watching the same TV shows, attending the same concerts.  Why did you target ME as the office mom?  Are you just evil?  Do you want to make me cry?  Are my roots showing?

I remember staring at this colleague, trying not to show my true feelings when all I really wanted to do was shout, stomp my feet, shine a light in his eyes and question him till he cried. Maybe take away his car keys and ground him.  Office mom indeed!

As he continued to talk – which at the time I wanted to say “please stop; haven’t you said enough?” – I began to realize that in his mind he was paying me a compliment of the highest order.  My age brings wisdom gained through experience; something that this twenty-something just doesn’t have yet.  I’m asked all sorts of questions, everything from the best way to approach the boss, to how we should prepare a client presentation, to how to save money for travel.   I can’t tell if he’s just humoring “the older person” or not, but I’m taking it as a compliment that he would ask, listen and actually take my advice. 

Good news is that the twenty-something crowds that I encounter through work or other events seem to enjoy my company, as well as the work experience and skills I bring to the table.  And I can keep up with the conversations and trends they’re discussing. Either I’m immature or they’re mature, but it works.

I guess I’ll try to embrace my age - young enough to have fun but old enough to know when to quit.  Twenty-somethings, feel free to include me in your conversations and ask me questions.  Just don’t call me “ma’am”.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved