What’s right with Jenni.

I waitressed for several years. Through college, through grad school. And I enjoyed it thoroughly. I loved how the time went by so fast, no watch-looking necessary. I loved how it was always new. I loved the free food. I loved the little family the staff created. I loved that I never, ever had to take this uncomplicated work home with me. I chatting away with all of my customers. I loved the flirt of it. (I was voted biggest flirt in high school, you know.)

À la Bull Durham: You seat the people, you feed the people, you get paid by the people. Sometimes they’re easy, sometimes they’re assholes, sometimes they sexually harass you. It’s really just like baseball.

Wearing the hideous uniform of the three restaurants I slung food at, I showed up all bright and shiny and new on my first day—wishing and praying for it to be my 30th.

The road to weakness

You see, I don’t like not knowing. It’s extraordinarily uncomfortable for me. The minute I’m somewhere new, I long for familiarity. I want to know where the coffee lives, how the chef likes you to place special orders, what time you can finally eat or sit down, how to use the archaic cash register.

In my mind, sadly, the ‘not knowing’ equals stupidity which then brings me quickly to weakness. And I don’t like weakness. (Mind you, I don’t feel this way about You not knowing something—this is personal cruelty only.)

But, what can you do? There is literally no way around the not knowing. So…I would:

• Watch, listen and learn with a vengeance.
• Hide my self-dismay.
• Crack jokes about how the door into the kitchen bashed me on the ass at least 12 times.
• Find the things I knew how to do and do those.
• Ask questions to get essential info.
• Just get through it, nose down and eyes high—knowing it won’t last forever. Nothing does.

This week

I just started a new project (as in a whole new, insanely exciting medium). And it hit me, square in that vulgar place in my brain that hates starting something new, that I somehow put myself into a career where I have new moments constantly. CONSTANTLY! CONSTANTLY!

New clients, new projects, new deadlines, new terminologies, new industries, new technologies, new writing styles. New, new, new, new, new, new, new. (BTW, that was said as only Anthony can say things, for all of you SATC (TV, not movie) fans.)

Fascinating. Like someone terrified of blood deciding to go to med school. (And then being shocked to find that there’s talk or sight of blood most days.)

So…what, exactly, is wrong with me? Does it seem odd? Or does it make total sense.

There’s this quote in my new favorite book ever, Born to Run. Background: McDougall is talking about a woman who discovered that literally all she wanted to do was run (naked, mind you, in just her shoes, through the backcountry of Idaho the summer she came to volunteer, mid-college and mid-eating disorder). Here’s the quote:

…Jenni has been hard-core ever since, running long miles even when Idaho is blanketed by snow. Maybe she’s self-medicating against deep-seated problems, but maybe (to paraphrase Bill Clinton) there was never anything wrong with Jenni that couldn’t be fixed by what’s right with Jenni…

I pile on more work than one human should be able to do because I actually can do it. I abhor weakness because I have a deep well of strength. I put myself into discomfort because I’m very good at finding my way out.

Huh. Yeah. Maybe we are all our own antidotes.

Image credit: Steve Snodgrass

I’m not sorry. Are you?

Call me a linguistics geek, but I prefer to ‘apologize’. And there is a difference.

Sure. You did something less than nice. Or maybe you just bumped into someone by accident. Maybe you made an error.

But, are you really sorry? I do realize there are two separate definitions for this word, but I can’t say the word without thinking of definition #2, which reads:

in a poor or pitiful state or condition

I can regrettably make mistakes, but I’m neither poor nor pitiful.

Which is why I simply apologize.

*********************

Recently, Naomi Dunford wrote a post about an interaction with a client gone awfully wrong. It’s an intense post on several levels, and in it she says,

“We sometimes have this belief that we have to tolerate anything a client puts out. No. You don’t. Be understanding if you want to be understanding and forgive if you want to forgive. But don’t squash down that part of yourself that says, “HELL NO I’m not going to get treated like that” because you’re afraid of losing clients.”

There was talk about the mislaid belief that if you’re being paid by the person, you have to take it. Um…they’re not paying you to feel bad. They’re paying you to do a job. See the difference? I don’t know about you, but there is no ‘pile on the abuse’ clause in my contracts.

Is this also about semantics? I wonder. Ish.

Like I said, apologize, but don’t be sorry. Don’t grovel. Find a solution, make it better and move forward. You do not suck, you made a mistake (unless you really suck, but hopefully you don’t and I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt).

Isn’t this the same conversation we have about getting paid what you’re worth? Isn’t this the same conversation we have when we feel blocked?

You’re the only one who can name your value and then stand behind it—and deserve it. You’re the only one that can get it done. Two things that are terribly hard to do when you’re feeling sorry.

And now I’m kicking your virtual ass out of this virtual plane. But I highly recommend you use a real parachute.

Image credit: jcarwash31

Bull balls, How I’m not like a cow & The boss and the bitch

FYI, I could not decide on a title, so, yes, you got all three.

Bull Balls

This is what I love about my job, it opens my door to the coolest people and their fascinating subjects. Case in point, I recently spent the afternoon with a new client talking about castrating bovine. And laughing – it’s a woman thing that we take odd pleasure in such things. And it’s really pain free, she says, they just tie a rubber band around the testes and they get numb (you know, like if you do that to your finger) and then they turn black and fall off.

Easy peasy!

You see, unless women are looking to procreate, we don’t care that much about balls which is why we laugh about castration. As Miranda puts it so eloquently on SATC, “I’ve never once called my girlfriends after a date and said, ‘He had such big balls! Strong arms? Sure. Nice abs? Maybe. But never the balls! Frankly I wouldn’t know if you had 1 or 10 down there.”

But enough about balls – or bulls for that matter because during this meeting, I also learned some fascinating things about cows (and myself).

How I’m not like a cow

Apparently #1: Cows are creatures of habit. So, when you do something different they freak out. It could be as huge as milking them for the first time or as small as changing the time they get milked. They like to know when things are going to happen, how this shiz is going to go down.

When I heard that, I instantly thought, Me too! And then I rethought my thought and thought, Actually? Not so much. Thing is, I ‘used to be’ like that. I used to be a control freak (a few of you are snickering and I can hear you), but it’s changing. Okay, okay, about a few things I still like my control, like I literally won’t eat margarine or food with ingredients I can’t pronounce (unless it’s because they’re written in French or Italian or Japanese).

By definition, the freelancer’s life is a swirl of unpredictable activity. Our economic status can soar or plummet without a moment’s notice. A deadline can hit us from out of nowhere. Sometimes we have to fill our days on our own because clients can’t be seen for miles. Now, I can get a little hyper when a lot of balls (pun intended) come flying at me at once, but that’s not freaking out – that’s fanning the flames, amping up my energy to meet the task and then, whirling through all the madness pretty happily – and entirely un-cowlike.

The boss and the bitch

Apparently #2: In every herd of cows, there’s the cow that thinks she’s in charge and there’s the cow that is in charge. The cow that thinks she’s in charge at the Grey Barn in Chilmark, is Thelma. She tries to boss everyone around, she wants to be dominant, she attempts to lead the other cows to and fro. And she’s kind of bitchy about the whole thing – loud, pushy, obnoxious.

The cow that is in charge is Helen. And she’s more the silent type.

So, how’s this all working out? Well the story I heard was that Thelma gets so busy playing boss that she doesn’t notice at first, say, that Helen has actually led the other cows across the field. When Thelma finally realizes it, she hauls ass over the pasture to catch up. Which leads me to believe that Thelma knows she isn’t really the boss, she just tells everyone that she plays one on TV.

The actual lead cow, Helen, doesn’t try to put this nuisance in her place. Helen’s smart, savvy, patient. She knows she’s in charge, it’s undeniable. Unless Thelma puts either herself or the herd in harm’s way, Helen just kindly ignores that bitch and goes about her business.  I imagine Helen smiling her cow smile, keeping Thelma safe and steadily, confidently leading the way.

Note which cow wears the pants in this family. Food for thought, I tell ya. (unless you’re a vegetarian).

Image credit: JelleS

Pretty Girl Karma

Surprisingly, this post applies to my male readers too – and to people that don’t consider themselves to be pretty (you really are, like it or not).

Writers, freelancers, work from homers – whoever you may be. At some point in your illustrious career, some lovely person has said this to you, “That’s so cool that you work from home! You can just wear your pajamas all day and no one will care or see you!”

Uh huh. It’s true. We could do that. And some days, I’m sure we all do.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and proclaim, superficiality be damned, that what we wear, how we costume ourselves, really does matter. It affects what we think about ourselves, how we act, how we talk, what we say, what actions we take.

When I dress in sweats and running shoes, I’m casual, I slump – sometimes when I look from the work I’m doing on my computer down to my clothes and back up again, it occurs to me that I’m maybe I’m only ‘playing’ writer.

So, I don’t do that anymore. Because when I wear jeans that fit in all the right places, my good bra that erases 3. 5 years of pregnancy and nursing with a single clasp, a beautiful and stain-free sweater and shoes that make me almost as tall as most other people who are on the shorter side of average height – then, I feel it when I’m sitting in this chair.

I’m confident, I’m worthy, I’m an adult, I’m a professional. I’m in touch with my power source. I own it. You can see it in the way I hold myself, in the way I walk, in the way I am and in the way I do. I dare say it’s my pretty girl karma. Because what I put out, comes right back at me – respect, value, compensation for what I’m worth, hotness, good people, great projects.

And in this case, karma is not a bitch. (Unless you piss her off.)

This post is dedicated to the FANTASTIC Kelly Diels who, when I told her that I dressed hot for the big Dragon Tattoo Blog Hunt launch yesterday even though no one saw me all day, remarked, ‘Of course…pretty girl karma’ without skipping a beat – and sparked my brain and ignited this post. Kelly gets it and just so you know, Kelly always looks hot and always shows plenty of Cleavage. I love her to bits.

What about you? Do you have power clothes? A power look? Are you affected by your threads? How?

Image credit: AlyssssylA

What’s security anyway?

I got a phone call yesterday afternoon. Well, first I got a message via LinkedIn requesting the call, then I got the call.

It was from a recruiter. Offering a very (very) high paid job at a company in Boston. For those of you who read this blog regularly and saw yesterday’s post, you can join me in a good laugh here: the position was to create and manage the social media department – wait for it – for a PR firm.

I know. As an old friend used to say, you just can’t make this stuff up.

It turned out that the job wasn’t right for me, the company’s looking for someone with strong social media experience and hands-on programming experience (HTML, Javascript, AJAX, XML, etc.) Which would be like asking me if I could write and do chemistry…which I couldn’t, can’t and, quite frankly, won’t. (If this is YOU, let me know and I’ll guide you right to this recruiter!!! And don’t let the Boston thing scare you, they’re even willing to pay for relo.)

Even though that particular job wasn’t for me, we got to talking – and said recruiter was very excited about what it is that I do, how I do it and why I do it. To be honest, I was excited about my answers too. And this confirmed that it would be sorta hard to woo me away from my present situation – owning my own company, being my own boss, freelancing and the randomness that comes with it.

Let’s be honest.

An actual job has some things going for it: a steady paycheck, health insurance, VACATION TIME, SICK TIME               sorry – I’m back, I think I just fainted for a minute there.

But, and it’s a big BUT – how secure would this job really be? As it stands, my success is entirely dependent on me. It’s a lot of pressure, but at least it’s mine. I do well when I work hard, seize opportunity, smear my gumption all over people…and things like that. I do poorly when I don’t do those things. And I have no one to blame but myself. Really. Even if I get screwed over or let down by a client, it’s up to me whether I cry about it and sling responsibility (and we all deserve at least 5 minutes of this) or whether I just get up and go find another one, a better one. Companies fold all the time or it’s just not a good fit or…there are so many things that could make this opportunity crumble.*

So, what I told her was, “Of course, I’ll send my resume, but:

• I’d be more interest in working as a contractor,
• Or as a consultant,
• Or on a special project for a few weeks to several months,
• And I’d need to telecommute,
• But I’d be happy to travel in on a regular basis.”

I’m not closing any doors. If a job-job came along that was just perfect (and had a sizable signing bonus), I would heavily consider it. As always, there is no definitive path…but there’s a helluva lot of excitement and possibility.

What about you? If you had your choice, would you go it alone or pull your chair up to a cubicle?

*I’m really not a pessimist. The other night, a loud truck with flashing lights woke me up in the middle of the night – my first and only thought was, why are they cleaning the streets at this hour? When, in fact and of course, it was a snowplow and we were in the middle of a snowstorm on March 1st. I think this is a sign of my deeply embedded optimism. (Which is why, for now, I’m putting my chips on Writing Roads.)

Image credit: Lokner

The Sense of Write

I have an uncanny sense of smell. Seriously, I’ve broken up with people over it. Not because they liked the smell of lavender while I insist on freesia and lilac, but because they didn’t smell right. If this writing things doesn’t work out, I might become a pheromone detective.

My nose is my directional. And this week, it stopped working. It’s a little bit completely amusing because I wrote a post about voluntarily shutting your nose on the 15th. I can only guess this is the Universe telling me, Not so fast, sweetheart, we still hold the ultimate control card in these parts.

Anyway, it stopped working because I have a cold. For me this is a once a year occurrence, the last time was late last February when I had a full-blown flu. This time, just a wicked head cold.

They say that when one sense stops working, the others kick into overdrive. But, I can’t smell, taste or hear from the cold and I haven’t been able to see since 1983. (I’m practically blind and my vision can’t be corrected to 20/20 even with my glasses or contacts.) So that leaves me with the 5th sense: feel. Except that the cold has usurped that as well. Because all I’ve felt like is crap.

First let me say that there’s something refreshing about not having any of the senses work. While I can’t taste my food, I also can’t smell anything bad. When I was running yesterday (yes, I still ran even though I was sick – I think sweating helps), I couldn’t smell any exhaust. There I was moving up the last hill on State Road thinking, Wow! These cars are all running so clean! It usually stinks out here! And then I remembered. And I can’t taste that nasty cold/sick taste you usually have in your mouth when you’re sick. And I can’t hear annoying people. All in all, not so bad.

But the best news is that I think I’ve developed my own sickth sense: the Sense of Write. My writing has been lip-smacking good. Everything else is hibernating, but my writing brain and my writing fingers are looking for the party. Which is great because I have a lot of work to do. And because it’s one of my favorite things to do. And because my boss refuses to give me any sick time. (So I’m leaving used Kleenex all over her desk.)

Image credit: hebedesign

Racing up City blocks…

Last week, I went for one of the best runs I’ve ever, well, run. I was in Manhattan – and I just flew around the place. It was a mini-exploration that began when it was still dark outside and things were relatively quiet, and ended in winter’s muted daylight, the City in full motion.

I ran around cases of food being piled into restaurants and crowds of people pouring up and out of the subway. I saw a lot of dogs – some tragically wearing sweaters. I finally, and only, stopped because I had to shower and get to a meeting. I could have kept running all day.

Now, my mother will tell you that ‘order’ has never been my thing. She loves right angles and, you know, cleanly arranged things. I’m more of a believer in the chaos theory. It’s how I cook, it’s how I write this blog , it seems to be how I love – following the gut, the heart and some other good body parts.

But, when I’m running and when I’m writing for clients, I love order. I seek it out, I set it up. I love ticking off the neat little markers along the way. I think it was part of why that run was so damn good – the progress towards my destination of, say, 33rd street could be easily measured as I raced up the clearly numbered city blocks. I knew how far I’d to gone, I knew how far I had to go.

When I’m writing – especially a big project. I stake out points along the way like these city streets. By the chapter, by the page, by the section. Again, I know just how much I’ve accomplished and just how much I have left to do. And the best days of writing, like the best days of running, are the ones when ‘what’s left to do’ is never enough, when I never, ever want to stop.

Image credit: ShellyS

By the way, I guest posted on AngEngland’s blog today, writing about Knowing Your Value (and getting paid for it)…part of a series she’s doing on better blogging.

If you try to do it all yourself, I bet you’ll fall over

I just got off the phone with a friend. She was telling me about her morning. Like me, she’s a freelancer, but of graphic design. This morning, before she even opened Photoshop, she did her bookkeeping, went to the bank and the post office, cleaned her office, fixed the leaky faucet in her bathroom, booked plane tickets for an upcoming conference and worked on a video segment she’s trying to edit to put on her blog.

Did you forget what it is that she actually does for a living? I almost did – and I’ve known her for years.

It all boils down to this: If you’re going to be a graphic designer, be a graphic designer. If you’re going to be a plumber, be a plumber. If you’re going to be a writer, be a writer. Don’t be a graphic designer – and a bookkeeper, a plumber, a travel agent, an administrative assistant and a videographer. It’s just not an effective use of your time.

And it reminds me of an interview that I did for journalist Marilee Crocker not too long ago – and that I’ve tweaked and pasted in below…

Note: Before I get mauled for suggesting that you don’t try to be as self-sufficient as hell in this economy, hear me out. The issue of outsourcing work is vitally important to understand and explore – as a businessperson and as a person in general.

What gets in our way when it comes to outsourcing? Why do we hold back (if we do)?

We are fantastic multi-taskers, and we’ve been socialized to think we need to do it all. As if getting help or outsourcing is somehow lazy, representative of us shirking our duties and a sure sign of failure. For women in particular, I’d say, ‘SuperWoman complex anyone?’ It’s outdated, but deeply ingrained that we will watch the mothership – both at home and at the office (and manage each one magnificently) – no matter what.

So…why is it so important for us to outsource?

It’s important because if we can give some of the work away, we will open ourselves up to more greatness: more time for creativity, more time to grow the business, more opportunity to spend our time in the places where we’re most needed, where we shine, where our passion is. In the end, it provides more work/life effectiveness, severely reduces stress and increases productivity. Which all equals happiness and fulfillment and success.

What can help us get over it?

Talking to other people and getting strength from each other as we march into uncharted territory is always supportive. Share well – and this includes sharing success stories and encouragement. I think it also helps to hire people you respect and feel good about as your outsourcers/contractors. This way, you aren’t just relieving your full plate, you’re simultaneously supporting another ‘good guy’ in their work.

Why should we? How is the reluctance to outsource holding us back?

It’s interesting to examine what we readily outsource (putting on a new roof) and what we tend to cling to (writing our own marketing materials). Why should we outsource as much as possible? Because why should you spend 40 hours a month balancing your books, when you could hire a bookkeeper that can do it in 10 while you design this winter’s fashion line? We think we can’t afford to pay the bookkeeper for those 10 hours, but can we afford to give up the 40 hours of our own? We’re paying for that lost time as well. Not to mention that if you’re a fashion designer, those 40 hours spent with your finances promise little more than frustration, boredom, stress and confusion. What’s the payoff? Who wins?

Ultimately, this is about letting ourselves off the hook – giving ourselves the freedom to achieve what we desire.

Image credit: antwerpenR

Check out the latest interview on The Daily Norm: Banker White, Filmmaker, Artist & Activist

Go get it.

I had the good fortune of meeting Chris Brogan on Tuesday night…and to listen to him tell story after story, all of them heavy with hidden ideas and more than a fair bit of laughter. One in particular keeps playing in my head…

Chris’ phone rings and he answers. A pipe fitter or roofer or something of that nature is on the other end, chewing his dinner loudly into the phone.

In between chomps, slurps and smacks, he tells Chris, “Someone told me I should call you.” Chew, swallow. “That you might be able to help me.” Burp, gulp. “Do you think I should have you help me or should I invest in some of those door hangers (I would call this door knob spam – see picture to the left)?”

“Door hangers,” said Chris. “Go with the door hangers.”

There’s an obvious lesson here about saying no. That even as freelancers or starving artists, and even in these dismal economic times, it’s important to just say no to the guy chewing in your ear, the guy that doesn’t get it. And by ‘it’ I mean: you, what you do, the value of your work and what he should be doing with his marketing money.

But, this story reeks of something else. Because when you sit around and wait for the phone to ring (not implying that Chris was doing that – this is an extrapolation, people), you’re likely to get some real crap. Or at the very least, you’ll get something passing as ‘okay’ but not what you really want. (Of course, a beautiful goose might also randomly waddle over, squat and lay a golden egg on your doorstep – but that’s another post).

I think Brogan’s story is a bit of a call to action. Who do you want to work with? What do you want to write? What do you want to do? Go get it. Make it happen. And make it happen the way you want it to. Seek, search, pull ‘em in.

Chris had a choice, and he took it. And those door hangers? I always throw them in the trash.

Image credit: CogDogBlog

Check out the latest interview on The Daily Norm: Alexa DiCarlo, Sex Educator, Sex Worker & Sex Worker Rights Activist

All brains, no legs

I broke my foot…and it sucks. But my inability to move has shown me a few things. For instance, I had no idea that I had so many good ideas until I was virtually unable to act on any of them.

As I sit stranded on a chair, the couch, in my office, I’ve been paying close attention to this. Within a span of a minute, I’ll have twenty ideas – things I could do – but then I can’t, I’m just stuck siting there. Or worse, I’m telling my family to do them…which they’re getting very sick of. They include: cleaning the bathrooms, culling through the fridge for old leftovers, cutting the dog’s nails, alphabetizing our bookshelves…you know, things like that.

At first I saw all of this as negative. I got fairly bummed out and I even cried. I tried to come to terms with the fact that there are some things that I just can not do.

Then I remembered that that was bullshit. I refuse to take no for an answer in most places in my life, so why was this different. And I come up with solutions to circumvent my handicap, like scooching on my butt to get to the ice cream, calling one of my neighbors to carry my lunch out to my office, enlisting the help of my children and dogs to bring me my crutches, practicing thumb-twiddling patience and dealing with a life full of nothing non-attachment and, yes, barking orders.

It’s not so different, you know, from what I do here at my computer all day. As I talk to clients and hear what they need, I determine what I can do for them and what I can’t. The ‘can’ts’ got solved by finding people in my sphere that ‘can.’ No problem is really insurmountable and the really good ones force your creativity. I find more strength when I embrace the fact that I’m never completely whole by myself – life and work are fuller when I invite others in.

And just like I’m always learning new writing and marketing skills and developing my craft – one day, I’m bound to walk again.

Image credit: hurley gurley