Free Stuff

People love free stuff. There's really no denying it, but sometimes I am amazed at the power of free stuff. Now rest assured, I am not immune to this myself. I am that idiot at the make up counter who will buy $40 more worth of stuff I don't really need, to get tiny sample sizes of more things I don't need. The "free gift". Also have you ever noticed that most of the time the things in the free gift are horrible? Like a strange tote bag in an awkward size and lipstick colors not found in nature, that would not flatter anyone?

Anyway, I'm not one to knock free stuff, as my entire career is built on Starbucks gift cards. I am shocked by their power. Business owners who normally would not make eye contact with me will give me 30 minutes of their time for a $5 gift card. Now, five dollars will barely get you a latte at Starbucks these days, and that's if you don't get too fancy, yet somehow it works! Now, I'm sure if I offered people a five dollar bill, it would not have the same effect.

My company also has normal type stuff, "swag" as it's often called, to give out to our customers. Pens w/ our logos, stress balls, etc. It is crazy how people will fight over these things! People who I know make hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, all jockeying over the same twenty-nine cent pen.

Heaven help you if you don't bring enough for everyone. You will find yourself in a sea of dirty looks, then making crazy promises like "I will mail you 10 more next week". And then you have to do it. So you spend more on postage than these items are even worth so that everybody gets a pen that will stop working or run out of ink in probably 4 days.

One of my co-workers recently had a dilemma with a pack of playing cards. She had promised the guy she was meeting with, "Yes, I will bring you some 'insert company name here' playing cards when I come". Now, first of all, who needs playing cards? Do people (outside of my family, who will caught up in a 4 hour spades tournament from time to time) even play cards anymore?

Well, she goes to her meeting and she has lost the cards. She can't find them anywhere after a thorough search of the rental car. Then the guy gets miffed about it! Incredible. I'm sure she had to go buy some playing cards and send them to him, and then it wasn't "the same" because they did not have the company logo.

The power of free! Remember that next time you need to get someones attention. People say their time is priceless, I say, nope, it's the cash equivalent of one grande pumpkin spice latte!

Over Dressed

As is common knowledge, I struggle about what to wear fairly often. Most of the time, I probably am close enough to acceptable to only draw minimal comments, which is good. I have always erred on the side of being under dressed if there is doubt. I think a girl in jeans among trousers can fly under the radar much more easily than the girl in a sequin dress among girls in khakis.

Not everyone agrees with this, it is the worst fear of some to not be the best dressed in the room. One year at the pageant (the pageant is what I lovingly call the big annual meeting at my job), I saw someone way over dressed. Or actually, under dressed depending on how you look at it.

At the annual meeting, we have "formal" night, which is a big fancy dinner and awards, among other things. Now "formal" in business can mean lots of different things, and I always hate the men on this night. They get to put on a suit with a tie and they have instant appropriateness. For us ladies, it's a little different. Some go really fancy, others pretty casual, and in general it is prime people watching. I try to go very camouflage, like if someone actually looked at me they would think "well, that's fine", but hopefully what I'm wearing is not causing people to actually look at me.

It is pretty common on formal night to have before dinner cocktail parties, hosted by various managers. Since I dotted line report to multiple people, I generally try to make at least a brief appearance at multiple parties. One year I walked in, a little late, to one of my favorite manager's receptions. Now, unbeknown to him, he was being "honored" for a special award. Several people got up and spoke and it was very nice. Right in the middle of the honorees acceptance speech, in walks a woman. Now, she was not going camouflage. I will admit to you, I thought she was a "lady of the night".

Because I work with a bunch of inappropriate, practical joke playing people (myself included), I immediately assumed that they had hired a stripper for the poor man accepting the award. I was immediately furious. I walked over to them and hissed, "Are you crazy? This is actually nice, do you guys have to do this?? He is not going to be amused at all!".

Well, they were extremely confused because, dear reader, this was a fellow employee. She had apparently gone for the deadly mix of formal and inappropriate. A horrible combination. Thankfully she did not interrupt the touching ceremony. Or did she? I will say she stole the spotlight, but not in a good way.

I've reflected on it several times, and at the end of the day, who am I to judge? I've certainly caught my own reflection at times and been horrified. Maybe she has male room-mates, who assured her this was a great outfit. Maybe it just looked different in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom? I can't say, but I do fall back on this memory from time to time. Most of the time when I look in the mirror, my thought is "well, that's as good as it gets", but sometimes I think "well, you probably won't be mistaken for a hooker".

End of the Cope Rope

Have you ever just had it? Emotionally, physically? I had that experience on a plane once. I do seem to have problems with flying, but most of the time I can work my way out of it. Once on the way home from Chicago, I was not able to. It had been an extremely long work meeting and I think I'd had a glass of wine while waiting with co-workers in the airport.

I boarded my flight, feeling relatively okay. As soon as we took off, I knew I was in trouble. I suddenly starting feeling like maybe I might throw up or burst into tears. Now, when having this sort of mental/physical break down, your traveling companion is really important. I knew I was really in trouble when I glanced to my right (thankfully, I was at least on the aisle) and saw the worst traveling companion possible, the frequent flyer businessman.

Now, you know who I mean. That guy that will run you down like a dog to get in front of you. He has to be first on the plane, he has to get his over sized suitcase in the overhead first, he has to get his drink order taken first, etc. They are the worst, they really define rude.

So, he won't even make eye contact with me, he is for sure not chatting through this with me.

Okay, I tell myself, here comes the flight attendant with drinks. This is nothing a little gingerale won't cure. I get the gingerale, no better. Then the unthinkable happens, they park the drink cart right in front of me, blocking me in completely. Now, when you are on the verge of a panic attack, this is not good. I decided I must make them move it, but I must make up a good reason.

"Umm, I'm so sorry, but I have to go to the bathroom right now". I don't have to go at all. Plus I've got this gingerale. So, oddly, I go to the bathroom with my gingerale. I go sit in there for a minute, sadly realizing I have ruined my gingerale, because surely it has absorbed the germs that are the airplane bathroom. Being in that tiny room is not doing anything good, so back I go. Now all I have is un-drinkable gingerale.

I try to read. Not helping. I look at the businessman again, praying I've misjudged him and now he will become this super supportive guy. Nope.

Well, this is it. It's time for what I save for worst case scenario. The tiny air vent thing on the ceiling. Now, I try to save this for absolute last minute freak out. Like this whole time I'm thinking, "Okay, if the gingerale doesn't help, maybe I'll turn the air on", "If getting the drink cart out of the way doesn't work, then the air".

I decide it's time. I reach up, and twist the air vent. NOTHING! No air comes out. Here I am expecting this ambrosia-like whiff of air that will somehow revive me and nothing happens!!

I start crying. Not loud, just tears running down my face because I'm sure I won't make it. That's it, sorry uninvolved businessman, you're involved. I do not ask him, I do not look at him, I just hoist myself up on our shared arm rest (which OF COURSE he has hijacked with his jacket) and grab his air vent. I point it towards myself and turn it on.

It works. The air helps. This odd behavior does get at least a look, of course a look of annoyance, from mr. business. I narrow my eyes and give him my best "you don't want to start something with me right now", through tears, and it works. He does an indignant eye roll, but no comment.

"Go ahead", I say to him telepathically, "touch that air vent and see what happens".

Though I've been on a few transatlantic flights, that not more than an hour was the longest in my life.

The moral of this story, be compassionate with your flying companions. You just might save somebody from getting to the end of their cope rope!

Elevators

As my 7 year old nephew shared with me last week (in defending why he does NOT care for this particular artist), Justin Bieber is afraid of elevators. Now, feel how you want about Justin Bieber, but I agree with Chelsea Handler that Justin did single handedly take down the Jonas Brothers, and for this we should thank him.

Anyway, I digress, but unlike Justin, I love elevators. Especially when in one by myself. It is a tiny capsule of time just to yourself. If it's metallic, you can check your reflection. There's all kinds of things you can do in an elevator, but mostly I just slump against the wall, relieved to have a moment to myself. I do not have to smile, make small talk, feign interest in mundane topics, etc. If I'm really exhausted and am headed to a pretty high floor, sometimes I will even squat or sit down. Of course you then run the risk of the elevator stopping, someone getting on and looking at you like you are crazy. Worry not, just say something clever like, "I was just tying my shoe". Even though you have on high heels.

We have a saying about elevators on my team at work, "Don't celebrate until you get on the elevator". Which means if a customer meeting is going particularly well, do not look at your colleague and smile. Do not give them a look that says "hee hee, we are going to make all kinds of money on this!". Now this sounds like common sense but at the end of a long fight for business, it is tempting. So anyway, you want to keep your poker face on until a safe distance from the customer.

I have always observed this rule because I want other people to observe it with me. I do not want to be at Verizon buying a phone, and when I agree to sign up for a texting plan, the sales guy starts high fiving people. That just doesn't seem right.

So, I was with one of my colleagues when one particularly hard fought deal finally closed. It took forever and at this point I didn't even think it would happen, but there it was, actually happening.

We walked slowly to the elevator (and this is one of those offices where the elevator opens right up to the lobby, no hallway), excitement exuding from us, but we are observing the rule. We get in the elevator, he presses the button, and the door closes. Once it does, we both start dancing. Now, let me say this, I'm not much of a dancer. I might do a little jig if I find a $5 bill in my coat pocket or something, but it's rare.

I wouldn't have really pegged my coworker for one either, but he broke into something right out of the soul train line. It was really impressive. I don't know if I can really describe it, but every time I think about it, I hear the Sanford & Son theme song. It was really funky for a white guy.

I, on the other hand, did more a kung-fu robot sort of thing. I'm not proud of it.

Well, we are way into our celebratory dance, and the door prematurely re-opens. Someone at our customer's office has hit the "down" button before we get the chance to take off. What ensued was great improvisation on our part. I put my arms up over my head and landed in some sort of yoga stretch, saying "wow, are my shoulders tight" (of course I said it in my dishonest-3 octaves too high-voice). My coworker fell mid-groove quite nonchalantly up against the wall, like he was just hanging out, leaning sideways.

All we got was a really strange look, thankfully. So beware, elevator celebrators!

Awkward

In my life as a corporate gypsy, I am often called upon to give presentations to large groups of people. Now, I don't mind it so much, but I would rather work with folks individually, as I feel my strength is getting to know them one on one. I don't so much hate public speaking to large groups, it's more that I can sense how ineffective it is. Especially while they are eating lunch or something like that. It's not fun to stand up at a podium while people are eating salads and avoiding eye contact with you.

I had to present to about 100 people (while they were eating lunch) a few months ago. A couple of my colleagues were there, not to help or anything, just to cause confusion mostly. We got there ridiculously early to set up my equipment and make sure everything was working. After using all of my jedi like concentration to get my laptop & projector hooked up and working, I was standing at the podium (I have total mixed emotions about the podium, on the one hand, it's weird, on the other it is at least a place to perch your stuff), getting myself in order. My co-worker steps back and says "you need to test the microphone".

I also have mixed feelings about the microphone. I have never learned how to project my voice, so when I talk loudly, I do strain my voice and that is hard to sustain for an entire hour's presentation. Also when you are competing with the clanging of forks and such, it's pretty much necessary. The only downside to the mic is that I feel like a total televangelist or Phil Donahue with it. It also only compounds my southern accent, making me probably need subtitles to those non-native North Carolinians.

So I turn it on and we start testing it. It appears to be working, but it is attached to the podium and far away from my mouth, so I have to lean in a little. We start fiddling with it and get it a little closer. My co-worker takes this opportunity to tell me (and at this point we are about to start, people are starting to file into the room), "I can hear you okay, but you look really awkward". Great, thanks. 100 people and you are going to tell me this right now? So supportive.

Anyway, by this time yet another co-worker has joined us and we all decide this microphone situation must be solved (with all of 3 minutes until our start time). We are fiddling around w/ cords and plugs, and we start making casual conversation. This is a transcript of our earth shattering conversation:

One of them says, "I went hunting last weekend, got some great deer meat".
"Wow", I say, "did you cook any yet?".
"Yes, my wife put some in the crock pot".
My other co-worker, "Did she make stew?
Me: "OH, I love a stew".
Other co-worker: "Me too, did it have those tiny carrots".
And so on.

Our yankee manager at the time walks in and says, "Hey rednecks, your mic is on".

So we talked about deer stew in front of our audience, making my awkward-ness the least of our worries. I still will say, that could have been much worse. I mean we could have been discussing something much more embarrassing than tiny carrots.

Uniforms

Could we all just start wearing uniforms? Please? In my world, where any given client any given day could wear jeans or suits, it is a challenge. I try to dress somewhere in between casual & formal to accommodate the multiple customers and dress codes that I encounter in a day.

I often feel under dressed or over dressed and most of the time there's not much to be done about it. In my "prissier" north carolina cities (like Charlotte), I always feel inadequate. I try to glance at my purse a lot. Subliminally saying "I know, I know these pants aren't right, but get a load of this pocket book!".

I think I'd like to work in the medical field, simply based on scrubs. I could do scrubs. I would even jazz it up with fanciful hats and accessories. Maybe I'd wear crocs w/ those doo-dad things in them for personality.

In my on-going quest for easy, comfortable clothes, I recently had a humorous mis-hap. I have a co-worker in Charlotte and I adore his wife. Now, keep in mind, she's probably around 60. I have lunch with the two of them often while I'm in Charlotte, and she is one of those people who always looks just right. Mind you, she's gorgeous, and could wear a paper sack and still be gorgeous.

Last time I met up with her, I noticed her outfit. It was kind of like a mono-chromatic "set", if you will. It reminded me of "garanimals", but for adults. And not in a bad way, it looked great on her, and come to think of it, she wears this sort of thing all the time. So I asked her where she got these outfits. She tells me she gets them from one of the home shopping channels, tells me the brand, the reasonable prices, etc. I file that away.

Well, guess what I flipped by at 2 am in the hotel (not sleeping of course)? One of the home shopping channels. Guess what was on? That brand of clothes. Well, you know what happened. I ordered an outfit. Now, just as a general rule of thumb, don't shop at 2 am. No good can come from it.

Much like "sleep eating" while taking my sleeping pills, I completely forget this entire incident. I go on about my trip, and honestly do not give it a second thought. Four days later, I'm back at home, my husband comes up to my office w/ a package. Hmmm...oh right, my new clothes.

Oh my, this sort of thing should not be worn by anyone under 50. It's so "matchy matchy", it's all wrong. It looks utterly ridiculous on me. It's very sad, because these could be the most comfortable clothes I have ever put on. I'm going to admit to you, I did keep it. My husband and I decided that if I wore them separately, and never to anything important, it would be okay.

He did say, "I bet once you hit about 45, you'll wear that all the time". He's so right.

Team Building Part 2

Writing the previous post made me think of the ultimate in ridiculous team-building events, Rattlesnake Canyon. What's that, you might ask? That is corporate team building at its craziest. The place was Louisville KY. Our travel department (who hates me) had sent me from North Carolina, through LaGuardia to get to Kentucky, but that's a whole different post.

Anyway, we arrive in Louisville for a "team meeting". There is all kinds of mystery around an entire afternoon on the agenda. We are even foolish enough to think we might be getting some sort of fun reward, because we'd had a really good year.

The mystery afternoon arrives, and we are ushered in to a huge conference room. But it's not just any conference room. It has been transformed to the wild wild west. Now when I tell you it was jarring, scary and disorienting; friend, believe me, it was! There were big barrels and other cheesy western decor, but my favorite was that there were actual tumbleweeds! Seriously, giant balls of jumbled up hay.

Our "cowboy guides" for the event were in full western wear. Shirts with fringe, holsters, chaps, cowboy hats, boots, etc. This might have been the most frightening part, because these poor people refused to break character. The minute we walked in the door they started shouting at us, things like, "Howdy partner, I hope you're inclined to help us build this here new railroad!", "Welcome to Rattlesnake Canyon" and other nonsensical things. Oh, and they had head microphones, a la Britney Spears, so they were amplified.

We were split off into teams and given books of stamps and bandannas. You had to wear your bandanna, seriously, your team was disqualified if you did not wear your bandanna. I wore mine on my head, gangsta style, which got a serious look from my manager. I'm going to be honest, to this day, I have no idea what the object of that game was. I know we were trying to build a railroad (?), I know we were supposed to trade stamps and collect a bunch of them, other than that it was pandemonium.

It was also timed, which of course adds to the frenzy. Just when you think you have enough "corn" stamps, along comes this John Wayne character screaming "10 MORE MINUTES" into his microphone and we all start sweating. Maybe it was supposed to teach us about negotiation or something? I don't know. What I do know is that at one point I looked across the room and saw one of the most mild mannered people in our department standing on a chair, bandanna tied around her wrist, shouting, "DOES ANYONE HAVE ANY PIGS????". I knew in that moment that we had broken down as a group. That if the world ended and currency became these mythical stamps, we would all die.

My group didn't help things either. As usual I tried to defer to others while also being organized, which makes no sense. I think we got one bale of hay stamp and maybe a few chickens. At one point I think we just lied to people, "I'll give you two chickens for a horse.", took the horse and then just ran. Some people just gave up completely, which we should have.

So, if you think that doing a scavenger hunt or obstacle course is a little over the top, may I enter Exhibit A: Rattlesnake Canyon!