Wimbledon Warriors

Sometimes you just have to get outside and see the sun.  Sunday was one of those days.  It was perfect. Sunny and warm with a crystal clear sky lacking the haze that comes when it’s too hot here in Texas – which is almost every day from June through August. These are rare days; days that should not be wasted inside in front of a computer.  According to a friend, there are only “14 perfect days” in a given year where we live and I’m sure this was one of them. Rats, only thirteen good days left this year.

I convinced Hubby that we both could use a break from all the things we “should” be doing: laundry, writing, consulting work, searching job boards.  Let’s spend an hour outside, I said.  We could have fun and get some exercise at the same time.   Tennis, anyone?

First step: search for tennis rackets. Found them exactly where one would expect sports equipment to live, in the craft room.  Did I mention we hadn’t played in a while?

Tennis balls became another issue.  We did find a can of tennis balls, however they had zero bounce.  Lucky for us we have a dog. After rifling through Kylie’s toy baskets and searching the backyard, we had three balls that at least resembled tennis balls.  Not sure that Pet Smart really makes a good tennis ball, but hey, it looked OK.  The pink rubber squeaky nubby ball was included as a back-up.

With rackets, an assortment of tennis-like balls and a jug of water, we were off to the tennis courts at the school.  We were thrilled to see that the courts were vacant and surprised others in the neighborhood were not taking advantage of one of the “fourteen perfect days”.

Hubby and I are pretty equally matched when it comes to sports, except he’s better at softball and I excel at shooting pool.  With both of us at fear-inducing heights of 5’2” and 5’5”, we are not powerhouses at hoops.  So tennis is a good game for us.

Once on the court we decided the goal was simply to keep the ball going for as long as possible, playing for household bragging rights.  Hubby went first, dropping the ball, reaching back and swinging the racket, making contact.  Too bad the ball didn’t understand the goal was to go over the net.  Ha! I could tell bragging rights would be mine. 

Telling him to stand back, I served and the volley was on!  I’m not really sure what happened next, except to say that my eyes saw the ball coming at me to the right, my mind said “move” – but my feet and legs were like lead weights stuck in place.  The ball whizzed past me as Hubby yelled, “Why didn’t you move?” Point: Hubby.

Game on, pal! My competitive edge kicked in. No way was Hubby going to win. It was my idea to go outside, my idea to play tennis.  We started again, and this time I made sure my legs went the same direction as my eyes.   Running towards the ball, I stretched to make the shot.  “Ouch!” I cried out, as my hamstring pulled tight and I began what can only be described as a failed attempt at a one-footed moon walk.   “What is it?” yelled Hubby. “Are you hurt?” 

No, I always do this dance when I’m in the middle of a game.  Duh.

Determined to enjoy this perfect day, I soldiered on.  We both did.  We hit the ball. We tried to run.  At one point we actually had fourteen consecutive “hits” before the ball took a nose-dive into the net.  After thirty minutes we took a water break.  Sweating, heart racing, unable to lift the large jug of water to even get a drink, I looked at Hubby and said “what happened to us?”  Of course we immediately blamed our rusty skills on the lay-offs, new work and the fact that we were not used to such nice weather. 

Back on the court, we continued to try and regain the skills we knew we once had.  We switched sides, each convinced that the other had an advantage solely based on the side of the court.  That’s when I discovered his side of the court held a treasure trove of sunbaked Cheerios, which I’m sure he had been hiding from me.  No wonder he had energy; he was on a Cheerio high. Never mind that they had probably been there for months. 

We never bested our fourteen consecutive hits, working at it for another half an hour before deciding that our poor performance was the direct result of using the dog’s toys as tennis balls.  We decided it was unfair of us, really, to take the dog’s toys and headed home.  

It was great to get out of the house and away from the grind of work and job-search.  Our muscles are still sore and we may never move with ease again, but at least we enjoyed one of the fourteen perfect days.  

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Over Networking

Networking, the fine art of establishing business contacts and/or relationships, is something we’re all familiar with.  We’ve all been told that this is the best and sometimes only way to actually find a job opportunity.  The concept is simple enough, although true networking – really good networking – takes time.  Hard to fit this into a busy schedule, huh?

When I was first starting out, networking was the buzz word.  We talked about it in school. We talked about it at my first job. We talked about it at happy hour.  “Everyone’s doing it; aren’t you?”  I’d play along during these happy hour discussions, nodding in agreement that yes, I did indeed have a vast business network.

Inside, I was panic-stricken.  Honestly I had no idea how to network or exactly what I was supposed to do.  I had the crazy idea that networking was closely related to cruising the club scene to meet guys.  That networking meant walking up to a total stranger – no matter where I was – to introduce myself in an attempt to find out about job opportunities.

Thank goodness I didn’t try this tactic.  At best, I would have appeared to be socially challenged. At worst, well, let’s not go there.

One thing I had going for me is that I’m good at relationship building and staying in touch with people.   As my career progressed, I made a point to periodically call or email past colleagues just to stay in touch.  I thought it was a nice gesture, something that I would have appreciated had the shoe been on the other foot.  Little did I know that I was networking! 

I continue this tried and true tactic even now.  It seems simple to me, staying in touch with people.  It does take some time, but the pay-off is great.  Each week I shoot a couple emails off to former colleagues, just to see how they’re doing.  A no-brainer.  Besides, I really enjoy staying in touch with people.

It’s occurred to me that not everyone is good at this.  Some know what to do, yet just don’t take the time. But there are others who aren’t quite clear on the concept of networking.  Unsure of how to meet people and use connections to look for opportunities, these individuals tend to push themselves too hard in an effort to be productive.   The unfortunate consequence is that they alienate themselves instead of building their network.  They “over-network”.

Case in point:  Met a fellow at an industry event.  I introduced myself – after all, isn’t this what you do at these things? Within seconds of our introductions, he immediately launched into his elevator speech followed by “do you know of any opportunities for me?”

Really?  I just met you! I don’t even remember your name, despite the fact that you’re wearing a name tag.  How would I even know what you’re capable of?  Much less feel like I want to represent you to my colleagues?

This person continues to contact me.  With the same format as the first time we met. And I still don’t know much about him except that his delivery is poor, he doesn’t have any more experience than the first time we met and I honestly feel uncomfortable recommending him to anyone.  

To be clear, I really like helping those who are looking for work.  Truly I do.  But I can’t recommend you if we haven’t established – over time – a relationship, one that lets me get a feel for your qualifications, not to mention your abilities.  Remember, you’re asking me to put my reputation on the line and recommend you to my colleagues.  

With social media it’s easy and tempting to “over-network”, to try and align yourself with as many contacts as possible.  Besides, we’ve all been told that the only way to find a job these days is through networking.  That must mean connect with as many people as possible, whether you know them or not, right?  How could this be a bad thing?

In my experience, networking has to happen sort of organically over time and through a variety of sources.  Great networking comes from those who know us best, not people we meet randomly.  When we are reaching out to someone new, it’s best to have a mutual friend or colleague vouch for us.

In the wrong hands, networking apparently becomes toxic. A bit sad. Sort of creepy.   But done right, it works wonders.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Complicated Simplicity

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

Burying the Lead

As much as I enjoy writing, there’s one writing task that I find difficult to do: write my resume.  Actually, writing anything serious about me is tough.  I’ve always chalked it up as a “girl thing”, the inability or resistance to promoting my career successes.  You know us girls – unless it’s promoting the fabulous new shoes we’re wearing or our ability to uncover fashion bargains, we tend to lay low when it comes to self-promotion.

My guess is that many of you share the same feeling when it comes to writing and/or revising your resume.  What to leave in? What to leave out?  How far back should we go with our work experience? What about awards or recognition?  Hobbies?  Other?

In theory it seems simple.  A resume is a list of accomplishments that should give the reader an overview of our capabilities and success stories, as well as a bit of history as it relates to our work and education.  But when the rubber meets the road, or the VISA meets the purchase decision, we tend to under-promote ourselves, overlooking some of our greatest accomplishments.

And have you noticed how much easier it is to write someone else’s resume than it is your own?  I can easily pound out some great verbiage for others, but when it comes to my own resume my brain seems to turn off. I sit frozen in front of the computer, almost as if I have no idea how to use the thing.

Recently I had the privilege to speak with some top-notch graduate students who will embark on their careers in the next year.  Their assignment was to develop their “elevator speech” and try to network with me and other executives.

Note: I still have a hard time using the word “executive” to describe me in any way.  All sorts of questions race through my head: at what title, years of experience, etc. does one earn the right to call themselves an executive?  But I digress.

Anyhoo, one of the students approached and presented her elevator speech.  In speaking with her during the follow-up critique, I discovered that she had been captain of the university swim team.  After more discussion with her professor, I learned that not only was she captain, but also a six-time All-American.  And an Olympic trial qualifier!

Wait a minute – you were team captain at a division 1 university AND a six-time All-American AND good enough to even qualify for Olympic trials AND you failed to mention it during your 3-minute elevator speech?  Are you kidding me? 

I must admit that if I had been captain of anything in college, even the Laundry Club, I would include it in my elevator speech.   

In her defense, she’s not alone here. Many of us do the same thing, even those of us who are seasoned veterans. We do what journalists do sometimes when trying to down-play negative news. It’s called “burying the lead”, when the main story is buried under more inane stories.  You know, like having the headline “Slight chance of rain on Tuesday” in bold type as the main story on the front page, with “Earth invaded by Martians” in eight-point font buried on the bottom of page 26 next to an ad for toilet paper. 

I immediately pointed this out to her as a gigantic missed opportunity.  By leading with her unique background, she would be remembered and stand out among a sea of job applicants.   

And I really must thank her. She helped me remember to lead with my main story when I’m networking, rather than burying it under the more mundane stuff that needs to be included but is basically the same as everyone else’s experience.

Wish I could include six-time All-American in my speech.  

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Customer Service 101

Competition is fierce these days, isn’t it?  Especially in consumer goods and services.  It used to be that stores could negotiate “exclusives” – products that could only be found at one retailer.  It was and still is a retailers’ best move.  A move designed to get customers to come to their store for certain items.

Exclusives have become harder to negotiate. Even high-end specialty chains are forced to accept the fact that what used to be “exclusive” to them can now be found in several locations. Not only do designers or brands want their products available in a variety of locations, they even open their own stores.

Sheesh – what’s a retailer to do?

Seems like the natural inclination would be to provide “extreme customer service”.  To provide an experience so wonderful, so profound, that customers will gravitate toward your establishment not because it’s the only place to find a product but because they enjoy the ride.  This is something that many claim, yet few master.

I should mention that I have first-hand experience here, having spent most of my career in retail at both the corporate and store level. And with the abundance of folks looking for work these days you’d think that stores would be staffed with top-notch associates. Apparently not.

Case in point. In planning for an upcoming overseas trip, Hubby and I decide to add an international plan to our mobile phone package.  Even a discounted price per minute or MB would be better than overseas roaming charges.

Easy, right?  Call the toll-free number, explain what I need and voila, we’re done. 

LOL! 

Before I go further, let me say that I am fully aware that many call centers are no longer stateside and that language barriers may exist.  Yet I expect that I will still get the information I need.

That was my first mistake. It was like a bad interpretation of the famous baseball skit, “Who’s on First?”   

Me: I’m interested in adding an overseas plan for a few weeks, including data.

Heavy Accent: Vell, vhat plan do you vant?

Me: Not sure; what are your plans?

Heavy Accent: Plans vary. Vhat plan do you vant?

Me – again, with frustration: What are your plans?  How do I know what plan I want when you won’t tell me about the plans?

Heavy Accent: Vell there’s no need to get mad. I cannot help you if you are mad. Thank you for calling. Click.

So much for that transaction.

No problem; I’ll head to the local store where I can talk to someone in person, face to face. I’m sure they’ll want my business and be happy to help.  As Hubby likes to say, “Let’s go talk to the clown”, his nod to all things drive-through.

Hubby and I enter the almost vacant store. Two sales associates to our right are working with customers; there are two more associates to our left plus one in front of us, all without customers.  Sweet!  This should be easy.

Associate: “Hi! How can we help you today?”

Me: “We want to learn about international voice and data plans.”

Associate: “OK. We need you to enter your information into this computer, and we’ll get you in line to speak with someone.”

Me: “What line? Why do I need to do this? We’re the only ones here. Can I just speak with someone? We’re in a bit of a time crunch.”

Associate:  “Well, the sales associates are busy.”

I glance around the store wondering if other customers are wearing a cloak of invisibility, as I still see two “free” associates and only two customers other than me and Hubby.

Me:  “Can one of those two associates help us?”

Associate:  “One of them is about to go on break.” 

Me:  “Of course they are.  I certainly wouldn’t want them to miss a break.  What about the other one?” 

Associate: “Oh, that’s the manager.”

Me – frustration building:  “So you’re telling me that the manager doesn’t actually do any work?  Is that why he can’t help us?”

Associate:  “Uh, I uh, well, um…..”

Hubby looks at me, eyes pleading me to not twist off.  I smile at the associate, while telling her I think it’s amazing that the store manager is incapable of helping a customer with a transaction.  Yes, I believe I said it a little loudly.  I wanted to make sure the manager knew why we were leaving.

And we did leave.  Did it help?  Doubt it. They probably couldn’t care less that we left, especially since they don’t receive any direct revenue as a result of my needing an international calling plan.

Yet they should care. Little did they know that at that same time, I was interested in purchasing a new phone.  And the accessories. 

I’m sure I’ll get my new phone.  Just not from that particular location.  After all, it’s not an exclusive.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

There's No Crying in Blogging

Each week I set aside specific times to write, marking this time as a meeting on my calendar so I stay on track. Usually this works well.  There are also unscheduled occasions when an idea hits me and I run to the computer to let my thoughts flow.  Sometimes, when I’m not near my computer, I have to reach for the nearest piece of paper and jot my thoughts down while they’re fresh in my mind.  In any case, I’ve got a system for accomplishing my writing goals.

And today is writing day.  It’s a great day for it, too.  Weather’s cold and bit cloudy; a great day to stay inside.  Coffee in hand, I log on to the computer, ready for whatever brilliant, creative idea hits me.

Yep, I’m ready. Any second now the creative juices will flow.  Here we go.  OK, just a minute more.  Ready, set, write!

Tick-tock, the clock seems to be urging me to write, to do something.  Anything.

I look through all my notes, things that I jot down from time to time.  Usually there’s creative inspiration somewhere on these scraps of paper.   

I’m not sure what’s wrong. It’s like my brain has locked up, unable to think, unable to do anything. I can’t even seem to move in my chair.

Panic starts to set in as I know that I need to write.  The more I panic, the less creative I become.   

I stand up from my desk. I stretch. I walk outside for a minute. Pet the dog. Play solitaire. Look at a magazine.  Close my eyes and try to imagine the story flowing effortlessly through my fingers and onto the page.

Suddenly it occurs to me that I may not be able to write anything today.  Not possible! It’s on the schedule. It’s “writing day”.  I massage my temples, eyes closed.  Must…write…creatively.

Now I’m frantic.  What will I do if I can’t write something?  Tick-tock, tick-tock.  Now the clock seems to be mocking me, making fun of my inability to write on command. Why do we still have a clock that makes noise? Shouldn’t that be digital?

As the minutes slip by I become paralyzed in front of my desk.  I realize the sky is dark, getting close to evening.  Here I sit, alone in the dark, in front of a blank computer screen – no witty words on the page.  Fear of failure creeps in.   I can feel my lips begin to quiver as a lone tear runs down my cheek.

The door opens and Hubby comes in.  “What’s wrong?” he asks.  “Why are you sitting in the dark?”  At that point the sobbing begins as I tell him I’m done.  No more writing for me; apparently I’ve used up all the creative ideas in my mind.  Forever.  Writing, my favorite creative endeavor, must be over.  My shoulders shake as the feeling of failure envelopes me.

As gently as possible, Hubby tries to console me.  He knows to tread lightly.  One time, early in our marriage, he encountered a similar situation and in an attempt to help get me moving forward again he told me to “buck up, little soldier”.  As many of you know, these are not the words a woman wants to hear when she’s in need of consoling.  Let’s just say that was not a good night for Hubby.

Smarter and wiser this time, he hugs me and holding my face in his hands he says simply, “there’s no crying in blogging”. 

I don’t know about you, but this does not seem like the best time for a baseball analogy, does it? 

Yet I know he’s right, even if I don’t want to admit it.  Writing is fun to me. This is what drives me to get up. It challenges me and forces me to think about things in a different way.  Why should I cry over something that I enjoy so much?

Again, it’s that fear of failure creeping in.  Especially since the lay-off.  I’m even more driven to succeed than before, and the pressure I put on myself is probably a bit much. 

Will I ever lose the fear?  I hope so.  And Hubby’s right; I’ll get my creative juices flowing again.  This is simply a temporary set-back. 

I still think there can be crying in blogging.  After all, it got me to write this post. 

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

No Regrets

I’ve often heard it said that in life you never regret what you did; you regret those things you didn’t do.  Hmm.  Are you sure? Just one look at my old photo albums and I can see plenty of things I regret.

Photos from grad-school parties show a serious lack of fashion sense, which of course I regret.  I’ll cut myself some slack here since I was poor.  I will say that my sequined high-top tennis shoes (my creation) added some flair to my otherwise bland wardrobe of jeans and tops.  And my hair! I may have actually been close to a mullet.  Let’s just hope I needed a haircut and hadn’t made it to the salon.

Looking back at my career, there was the time I turned down an opportunity to interview with a small start-up. Happy with my job despite the low pay, I didn’t even try to talk to the start-up even though one of my best friends worked there. In my mind, it couldn’t possibly be as interesting or fulfilling as my current job.  I’ll never know how an interview may have turned out or if I would have liked working there.  One thing I do know: I regret not interviewing and potentially getting in on the ground floor, including stock options that later would prove to be so lucrative that I could be writing this from my winter home in Tahiti.

Over the years I’ve seen the error of my thinking. Of not trying something new.  Now I’m much more willing to at least investigate opportunities – both professional and personal – rather than simply declaring my life “fine as-is”.

Hubby and I have applied this line of thinking to our travel, taking advantage of opportunities that we never before dreamed of, not wanting to look back with regret at not going, doing, seeing.  Hard to regret riding a camel by the great pyramids at Giza.   I do regret my screaming while the giant camel stood up with me in the saddle; that was embarrassing.  Who knew that a scream would echo around the pyramids?

When the lay-off hit, my mantra became “no regrets”.   This stroke of bad luck was really good luck in disguise, giving me the opportunity to do whatever I wanted.  If I wanted to try something, I was going to try it, as long as it was legal and didn’t break the bank.  Any fear I had was pushed aside by the bigger concern that I might rush into a new job too fast and find myself once again stuck in the rat race without at least considering a new venture.

So I pressed on, past any naysayers and concerns from well-meaning friends; past my own self-doubt.  I wrote my thoughts and dreams and strategies on a large grease board with “NO REGRETS” emblazoned at the top.  And guess what?  I’ve actually been able to check a few things off the list.

Living a “regret-less” life is not easy and I’m not going to pretend that I do it well.  Many times Hubby has to give me a pep-talk before I worry myself out of something without giving it a try.  I find that it takes more courage and determination to try something new vs. staying with something familiar.  Worries flood in as I venture out of my comfort zone to try new things. “What if” questions are always top of mind.

I’m not sure where some of my “regret-less” ventures are going to take me.  But one thing’s for sure: I’ll look back someday with a smile, knowing at least I tried.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved