Marty Nemko's Blog, page 417

Susan's Saga: An unvarnished look at work today. Episode 14: Owning a Cafe

The Sapian Family Saga Part II: Susan's Saga  
Episode 14Owning a Cafe
In the previous episode, Susan and Ben decided to open the Town Hall Meeting cafe.
And they did. Six months later, it was neither as successful and fun as they had hoped nor as cataclysmic as they had feared.

On the upside, business was decent from Day One and had grown steadily--they were on track to netting $90,000 the first year. 

Not only was the concept of hourly discussions during the day and low-key entertainment at night popular, the weekly guest baker making their signature pastry each week kept things (ahem) fresh. In fact, the state's leading artisan bakers were lobbying for the opportunity. We all like to be selected. 

And Susan and Ben were glad they had held out for the dream location--where there was lots of foot-traffic and easy parking day and night, just steps from the only supermarket and only movie theater in town. 

And of course they felt good about having built something: They created the cafe, are making hundreds of people happy every week, they created jobs, decent jobs, enabling four other people to make a reasonable living, while being treated as human beings.

But there were downsides. Before opening, they benchmarked against three successful cafes and three that were closing down. A key difference: a beautiful room: lots of expensive wood, wall coverings, lighting, etc., all understated but all costly. So even though they saved a fortune by buying a failing coffee shop and they used friends to help with the build-out, after all the upgrades the city, county, and state required, it cost them $150,000 to open the cafe. Maxing new credit cards was far from enough. They did have to borrow from Susan's parents.

That bothered them far less than the fact that they already had to fire three workers. Although Susan and Ben felt they treated their workers like family, two of them just were unreliable. They often called in sick, almost assuredly because of their substance abuse problem. Often, Susan and Ben couldn't find a sub and had to cover for them--nights, weekends. They were working 70 hours most weeks.

Most painful to them was that one worker was stealing from the till---on a regular basis--starting at the very beginning, when everyone knew how scared and struggling Susan and Ben were. It made it hard to still believe what they were taught in the Small Business Administration course: "Treat your workers well and they'll treat you well."

Personally, Ben and Susan were also a mixed bag. Despite the pressures of their business, they nearly always got along, laughing far more than fighting. They both were low-maintenance, rarely in bad moods. And as they had felt from their first meeting, they were simply compatible: everything from their energy level to their intelligence to their quick pace of walking. 

Ben had become great buds with Adam, often going on long hikes with Casanova the dog, searching for "treasure" in the forest. Even more, Adam liked when Ben let him, now 8, help in the cafe. The customers loved it when little Adam would take the tongs that were bigger than him to reach a pastry, put it on the plate, hand it to the customer and say, "That'll be $1.95."  One customer asked Susan, "Aren't you violating child labor laws?" She said, "If there's a law against making my son this happy, I'll break it."

On the downside, Ben's ex-wife Vanessa had now gone to court to get an increase in her alimony, arguing that Ben now was making more money. It weighed on Ben. Another part of the marriage's legacy was that Ben every Saturday went to Spokane to see his two-year-old child. If he was really being honest with himself, he did it out of obligation not love. He and Vanessa broke up while she was pregnant, and it wasn't even Ben's biologically. His sperm wasn't up to the task so Vanessa had gotten pregnant by artificial insemination. In short, Ben had little connection to the two-year-old, biological or environmental. But society says he's the father with all the obligations appertaining thereto, so he trekked every week to Spokane to comply with the court order even though he'd much rather be with Susan, with Adam, and their business.

I'd be remiss if I didn't also mention that while Susan and Ben's sex life was good, it already was declining, and they didn't think it was the pressure of the business and from Vanessa. They felt it just was what happens to most couples after a few months. One night, by the fire, Ben lamented, "I guess the old saw is true. If you put a penny into a jar every time you have sex the first year, and take one out every time you have sex after that, the jar will never empty." 

Susan needed to change the topic. "I'm scared about my talk at Rotary. I know it's only a 2-minute report from the entertainment committee but..."

Ben understood. He used to be afraid to speak up at meetings but having joined Toastmasters and reading articles on public speaking, he was much better. He was tempted to launch into a long lecture but knew that Susan, like most people, get overwhelmed with too much input, so he just said,

"For someone who's scared of speaking, it makes sense to write it all out, read it three times, then reduce it to a few bullet points on one index card. If you try to memorize it, it will unavoidably sound stilted and if you mess up, which almost everyone does when trying to give a talk memorized, you could get thrown off. Second, when you get up there, focus your eyes mainly on one or two people you know like you. You'll feel the love."

"Ben, would you come?"

"Of course, and I'll sit where most right-handed speakers focus their eyes: a few rows back and just to the right of center."

"Thank you."

"Susan, and the most important thing? You needn't be perfect; you need be authentic. So just pretend you're talking to me after we've had a glass of wine. Conversational, relaxed, informal."

"I'll try." Susan said. 

The next and final episode is HERE.

Then I'll start on Part III of The Sapian Family Saga:  Adam's Saga.

Days of Our Work Lives: An unvarnished look at work today: Part II: Susan's Saga. Episode 13: The Town Hall Meeting Cafe

Days of Our Work Lives Part II: Susan's Saga  
Episode 13The Town Hall Meeting CafeIn the previous episode, despite being a star, Susan got laid off--Part of her work was automated, the rest offshored.

Susan was happy to keep her promise to make the four-hour trek to Ben's condo. For a guy's place, it was surprisingly well-kept. She liked that. 

Susan was afraid she'd never land another job. "Ben, I was at each of my last three jobs for a really short time and before that, I was a stay-at-home mom."

"And a singing teacher."

"Part-time. Very part-time. Oh, I'm the perfect job applicant: 15-year-old degree in sociology from San Francisco State, stay-at-home mom who taught singing a few hours a week for 14 years. In my next job I got accused of creating a hostile environment against gays. As a sales clerk at Rory's Ag Supply, I lasted a grand total of two hours. And now I just got laid off after a big three months as an academic adviser. Now that's the sort of focused career with "a pattern of continual advancement" employers are looking for. Who's going to hire me, Jack in the Box?"

Ben offered, "Maybe you need to start your own business, hire yourself. That way you instantly go from hard-to-employ to CEO."

"Yeah, part-time singing teacher. Big CEO."

"Well maybe you need to do something with a better chance of making a real living?"

"Like what, start a biotech company?"

"Of course not."

"Ben, I was joking."

"I know that but there's a point here. Any time you go into some cutting-edge field, you're competing with the world's smartest, big-moneyed-interests. And even if you came up with, say, some amazing drug, you'd need a fortune and ten  years to bring it to market. I used to work for a biotech company in regulatory affairs. To get FDA approval, it takes ten years and three truckloads of data, I swear."

"No wonder drugs cost so much."

"Susan, I'm talking about something simple, something under-the-radar, something all those geniuses from Stanford and Harvard wouldn't touch. You want a business where the competitors aren't that smart or hard-working. Like a business installing real estate sign posts or cleaning windows."

"You expect me climb up to the 44th floor of buildings with a squeegie?"

"You'd hire kids to do that. You'd do the sales and marketing. And the books--now that you know Excel and Quickbooks."

"What, I'm going to tell my family and friends I clean windows?"

"Susan, status is the enemy of contentment. You can quote me on that. Millions of executives, doctors, and lawyers, especially lawyers, work 12 hours a day, finally get home totally stressed out and collapse in their 4,000-square foot house getting loaded every night. Many people who run simpler businesses don't have that."

"But can you make money?"

"Well, take for example, a shoeshine stand in Seattle's financial district, at a hotel, or at the airport. It costs almost nothing to start. Profit margin's amazing. The only product with a higher margin is cocaine."

"You can't make a middle class living with a shoeshine stand."

"Maybe, maybe not. But you sure can net at least $20,000 a year. Then you simply clone it. You work in the first stand until you've learned the business. Then you hire a trustworthy friend to work there--pay them fairly, with profit sharing--and you open another one. Five locations and you're making six figures."

"I still can't see myself running a shoeshine stand."

"What could you see yourself running?"

"I dunno, maybe a cafe or something."

"Susan, there's a cafe under every rock in Seattle, even here in Sage River."

"What if it had something special to bring people in, keep people there."

"Like entertainment?"

"Maybe. At nights maybe poetry readings, folk guitar, light jazz, comedy. And during the day, let me think..."

"You're doing great, Susan."

"Hey wait a minute. When David and I went on our honeymoon to Switzerland, there was a cafe called The Community Cafe. And in the window was a blackboard: Anyone could sign up to lead a one-hour discussion on whatever topic. We went back three times: Once they were talking about immigration, the next time Swiss banking secrecy, the next time whether they should rescind  legalization of drugs. Every time we were there, it was packed."

Ben added, "In America, we could call it the Town Hall Meeting Cafe."

"Town Hall Meeting Cafe."  Hmm.

"Susan, let's do it together."

"What?!"

"Really, Susan. I'll do all the tech stuff, you do the people stuff: serve, make people feel welcome. Hey, now that you know Excel and Quicken, you can even be the bookkeeper!"

"With help. Ben, this is crazy! It costs a lot of money to start a cafe. I inherited some money from David but I can't afford to lose that."

Ben was on fire: "Like I said, there are a zillion cafes. Too many. Lots of them go out of business and we could buy a cafe, fully outfitted, for a song. You could contribute eight bars. And for the rest, we could get credit cards that are zero interest for the first year. After a year, we'll have good cash flow and can pay off the credit cards without paying a dime of interest."

"We couldn't get that much in credit cards."

"If we need more money, wouldn't your parents invest a little? And how about that rich friend you told me thought you were great?"

"Ben, this is crazy!"

"Let's sleep on it."

And they did...together, for the first time.

And when they awoke, in each others' arms, they were more committed than ever: to the Town Hall Cafe...and to each other.

The next episode is HERE.

Susan's Saga: An unvarnished look at work today. Episode 13: The Town Hall Meeting Cafe

The Sapian Family Saga Part II: Susan's Saga  
Episode 13The Town Hall Meeting CafeIn the previous episode, despite being a star, Susan got laid off--part of her work was automated, the rest offshored.

Susan was happy to keep her promise to make the four-hour trek to Ben's condo. For a guy's place, it was surprisingly well-kept. She liked that. 

Susan was afraid she'd never land another job. "Ben, I was at each of my last three jobs for a really short time and before that, I was a stay-at-home mom."

"And a singing teacher."

"Part-time. Very part-time. Oh, I'm the perfect job applicant: 15-year-old degree in sociology from San Francisco State, stay-at-home mom who taught singing a few hours a week for 14 years. In my next job I got accused of creating a hostile environment against gays. I lasted a grand total of two hours as a sales clerk at Rory's Ag Supply. And now I just got laid off after a big three months as an academic adviser. Now that's the sort of focused career with "a pattern of continual advancement" employers are looking for. Who's going to hire me, Jack in the Box?"

Ben offered, "Maybe you need to start your own business, hire yourself. That way you instantly go from hard-to-employ to CEO."

"Yeah, part-time singing teacher. Big CEO."

"Well maybe you need to do something with a better chance of making a real living?"

"Like what, start a biotech company?"

"Of course not."

"Ben, I was joking."

"I know that but there's a point here. Any time you go into some cutting-edge field, you're competing with the world's smartest, big-moneyed-interests. And even if you came up with, say, some amazing drug, you'd need a fortune and ten  years to bring it to market. I used to work for a biotech company in regulatory affairs. To get FDA approval, it takes ten years and three truckloads of data, I swear."

"No wonder drugs cost so much."

"Susan, I'm talking about something simple, something under-the-radar, something all those geniuses from Stanford and Harvard wouldn't touch. You want a business where the competitors aren't that smart or hard-working. Like a business installing real estate sign posts or cleaning windows."

"You expect me climb up to the 44th floor of buildings with a squeegie?"

"You'd hire kids to do that. You'd do the sales and marketing. And the books--now that you know Excel and Quicken."

"What, I'm going to tell my family and friends I clean windows?"

"Susan, status is the enemy of contentment. You can quote me on that. Millions of executives, doctors, and lawyers, especially lawyers, work 12 hours a day, finally get home totally stressed out and collapse in their 4,000-square foot house getting loaded every night. Many people who run simpler businesses don't have that."

"But can you make money?"

"Well, take for example, a shoeshine stand in Seattle's financial district, at a hotel, or at the airport. Costs almost nothing to start. Profit margin's amazing. The only product with a higher margin is cocaine."

"You can't make a middle class living with a shoeshine stand."

"Maybe, maybe not. But you sure can net at least $20,000 a year. Then you simply clone it. You work in the first stand until you've learned the business. Then you hire a trustworthy friend to work there--pay them fairly, with profit sharing--and you open another one. Five locations and you're making six figures."

"I still can't see myself running a shoeshine stand."

"What could you see yourself running?"

"I dunno, maybe a cafe or something."

"Susan, there's a cafe under every rock in Seattle, even here in Sage River."

"What if it had something special to bring people in, keep people there."

"Like entertainment?"

"Maybe. At nights maybe poetry readings, folk guitar, light jazz, comedy. And during the day, let me think..."

"You're doing great, Susan."

"Hey wait a minute. When David and I went on our honeymoon to Switzerland, there was a cafe called The Community Cafe. And in the window was a blackboard: Anyone could sign up to lead a one-hour discussion on whatever topic. We went back three times: Once they were talking about immigration, the next time Swiss banking secrecy, the next time whether they should rescind  legalization of drugs. Every time we were there, it was packed."

Ben added, "In America, we could call it the Town Hall Meeting Cafe."

"Town Hall Meeting Cafe."  Hmm.

"Susan, let's do it together."

"What?!"

"Really, Susan. I'll do all the tech stuff, you do the people stuff: serve, make people feel welcome. Hey, now that you know Excel and Quicken, you can even be the bookkeeper!"

"With help. Ben, this is crazy! It costs a lot of money to start a cafe. I inherited some money from David but I can't afford to lose that."

Ben was on fire: "Like I said, there are a zillion cafes. Too many. Lots of them go out of business and we could buy a cafe, fully outfitted, for a song. You could contribute eight bars. And for the rest, we could get credit cards that are zero interest for the first year. After a year, we'll have good cash flow and can pay off the credit cards without paying a dime of interest."

"We couldn't get that much in credit cards."

"If we need more money, wouldn't your parents invest a little? And how about that rich friend you told me thought you were great?"

"Ben, this is crazy!"

"Let's sleep on it."

And they did...together, for the first time.

And when they awoke, in each others' arms, they were more committed than ever: to the Town Hall Cafe...and to each other.

I hope to post the next episode tomorrow, Sunday, midmorning.

Days of Our Work Lives: An unvarnished look at work today: Part II: Susan's Saga. Episode 12: The Fairy Tale

Days of Our Work Lives Part II: Susan's Saga  
Episode 12The Fairy Tale
In the previous episode, Susan landed a exciting albeit temporary job as an academic adviser at North Central Washington University. 

And unlike her baptism by fire at Rory's Ag Supply, her onramping at NCWU was textbook. Susan watched the best advisers conducting sessions and, after each, Susan was encouraged to ask questions. When she felt ready, she did some easy advising, with a master adviser watching and after each session offering feedback. Her boss told her the department's unofficial rules, the things that wouldn't appear in the employee handbook. For example, "We have a joking-around culture but never with the students or staff as the butt of the joke." Her boss said he had an open door and meant it. Each time she walked into his office, he smiled and she never felt rushed or demeaned. She thought, "I didn't think this existed any more in the real world."

The fairy tale continued, with Susan quickly becoming beloved by her fellow advisers and by students. Indeed, first-time visitors to the advising center would often ask if Susan was still taking on new advisees.

But the real world, alas, too often isn't all rainbows and fairy godmothers. One day, her boss walked into her office, his relaxed demeanor replaced by a furrowed brow. He sighed and said, "Susan, I told you the position was temporary but I didn't know how temporary. The dean has informed us that we are to replace 40 percent of our FTEs: 20 percent with computerized advising--some new artificial-intelligence thing--and 20 percent will be outsourced to a firm in India, which will cost us--when you count the benefits and protections--85 percent less. I just couldn't fight that. Susan, you could not have been more of a star. I'm so sorry."

"But if you say I'm so good, why can't you choose someone else?"

He sighed again: "Union rule: Last hired, first fired."

She was thinking of saying, "How come you administrators never think of outsourcing or automating yourselves," but she liked her boss and besides, didn't want to burn bridges---she'd need a great reference from him.

So Susan was shoved back to the starting line, yet again. With her short tenure at each of her recent jobs, behind the starting line. 

The next episode is HERE. 

Susan's Saga: An unvarnished look at work today. Episode 12: The Fairy Tale

The Sapian Family Saga Part II: Susan's Saga  
Episode 12The Fairy Tale
In the previous episode, Susan landed a exciting albeit temporary job as an academic adviser at North Central Washington University. 

And unlike her baptism by fire at Rory's Ag Supply, her onramping at NCWU was textbook. Susan watched the best advisers conducting sessions and, after each, Susan was encouraged to ask questions. When she felt ready, she did some easy advising, with a master adviser watching and after each session offering feedback. Her boss told her the department's unofficial rules, the things that wouldn't appear in the employee handbook. For example, "We have a joking-around culture but never with the students or staff as the butt of the joke." Her boss said he had an open door and meant it. Each time she walked into his office, he smiled and she never felt rushed or demeaned. She thought, "I didn't think this existed any more in the real world."

The fairy tale continued, with Susan quickly becoming beloved by her fellow advisers and by students. Indeed, first-time visitors to the advising center would often ask if Susan was still taking on new advisees.

But the real world, alas, too often isn't all rainbows and fairy godmothers. One day, her boss walked into her office, his relaxed demeanor replaced by a furrowed brow. He sighed and said, "Susan, I told you the position was temporary but I didn't know how temporary. The dean has informed us that we are to replace 40 percent of our FTEs: 20 percent with computerized advising--some new artificial-intelligence thing--and 20 percent will be outsourced to a firm in India, which will cost us--when you count the benefits and protections--85 percent less. I just couldn't fight that. Susan, you could not have been more of a star. I'm so sorry."

"But if you say I'm so good, why can't you choose someone else?"

He sighed again: "Union rule: Last hired, first fired."

She was thinking of saying, "How come you administrators never think of outsourcing or automating yourselves," but she liked her boss and besides, didn't want to burn bridges---she'd need a great reference from him.

So Susan was shoved back to the starting line, yet again. With her short tenure at each of her recent jobs, behind the starting line. 

The next episode is HERE. 

Days of Our Work Lives: An unvarnished look at work today: Part II: Susan's Saga. Episode 11: The Job Interview

Days of Our Work Lives Part II: Susan's Saga  
Episode 11The Job Interview
In the previous episode, over a romantic first date, Ben helped Susan prepare for a chat about a possible job as an academic adviser at a college. 

She had an outsized fear of public speaking and in driving to the interview, she had been able to remain calm--well, relatively calm--because the director had said, "I'd be pleased to chat with you about a possible job over a cup of coffee." "Chat," "coffee." Those were nice, unintimidating words.

But when she walked in, there were four people sitting on one side of a conference table. Her worst nightmare come true.

The director said, "I thought I'd ask the assistant dean and a couple of the academic advisers to join us. Have a seat. Coffee?"

"Sure." The only thing Susan really was sure of was that she was dying, absolutely dying. She tried to calm herself, "Deep breath, deep breaths. There always are other jobs. There always are other jobs." 

"Well Susan, tell us something about yourself." She couldn't believe it--the exact question she and Ben rehearsed! And slowly, her terror subsided.

Most interviewers aren't pros at it so they rely mainly on stock questions. So it wasn't surprising that many of the questions were those she had prepared for, like, "What's your greatest strength and greatest weakness?" She resisted giving the stock BS answer: "I tend to take my work too seriously but I'm working on dialing it back a little." Instead she said, "Well, I've never been an academic adviser before. I like to think I could do it because I did well working with the middle school kids but do you think someone like me could do the job?" The integrity, the non-desperation, was more impressive than any BS answer. 

They did ask a few questions she couldn't have prepared for, for example, "Your biggest challenge will be dealing with the many students we admit to college who frankly aren't at all prepared for college work. Most of them end up dropping out. How would you do academic advising with such students?"

Her first thought was, "Why would you admit students you know are so likely to fail, costing them money and time they could have more wisely spent, not to mention the assault to their self-esteem?" But she realized that would endanger her chances of getting the job while not changing the university's admission policy. So she just said, "Baby steps. All I can do is help them come up with smart baby steps and be encouraging without being dishonest. Does that make sense?"

Standard interview advice encourages you to exude confidence. But too often that appears like phony bravura. Honesty trumps overconfidence...at least with the sort of employer you'd want to work for. 

She had another challenge to her honesty. An interviewer asked her, "What would you say to a student who says, 'Why do I need to learn about the symbolism in Milton's poetry, about stochastic processes in chemistry. I'm from the inner city. I want to go going back to my community to be an accountant. Isn't there more important stuff they could teach me?"

She was afraid to give the stock answer, "A liberal arts education prepares you for life." Not only is it a cliche, she wasn't quite sure she believed that learning about the symbolism in Milton's poetry teaches you more about life than say a course in conflict resolution. She decided to strike a middle ground: "There is truth to the idea that a liberal arts education prepares you for life but I'm afraid if I said that to a student, he'd blow me off. So I'd probably say something like, "I understand. Might it help, as you're taking these courses, to ask yourself, "How the hell could I apply this to real life? Actually some of it does."

Throughout, remembering how important chemistry is, Susan did smile appropriately, was enthusiastic, and asked a couple of questions that showed she had thought about the job. And she used a technique she used when coaching singers: As you're singing, look one audience member pleasantly in the eye, then someone a little to the right and so on. Susan did that with the interviewers and often, they smiled back at her. Chemistry! 

At the end, the director asked, "Do you have any other questions?" Susan didn't ask a standard question like, "When will you let me know?" That would make her seem desperate. Nor did she ask a question that suggested a less-than-great work ethic like, "How much vacation will I get?" 

Instead she was deciding among three: "If I were to be an outstanding employee, what would you hope to see in the first month?" "Every workplace has its cultural norms. What sort of person fits best here?" and "Anything make you hesitant to offer me the job?" She decided on the latter. She thought, "If he raises an objection, I have a chance to counter it. If he says that nothing makes him hesitant, it concretizes his commitment to me, making him more likely to offer me the job."

His answer, "I guess nothing is making me hesitant. He turned to the other interviewers. They all shook their head---no objections. "Well then, I say we offer you the job right here." They all smiled--including, of course, Susan. "It's only part-time and the contract ends at the end of the school year but the pay isn't bad: $22 an hour plus benefits. What do you think?"

"I think, yes!"

The next episode is HERE.

Susan's Saga: An unvarnished look at work today. Episode 11: The Job Interview

The Sapian Family Saga Part II: Susan's Saga  
Episode 11The Job Interview
In the previous episode, over a romantic first date, Ben helped Susan prepare for a chat about a possible job as an academic adviser at a college. 

She had an outsized fear of public speaking and in driving to the interview, she had been able to remain calm--well, relatively calm--because the director had said, "I'd be pleased to chat with you about a possible job over a cup of coffee." "Chat," "coffee." Those were nice, unintimidating words.

But when she walked in, there were four people sitting on one side of a conference table. Her worst nightmare come true.

The director said, "I thought I'd ask the assistant dean and a couple of the academic advisers to join us. Have a seat. Coffee?"

"Sure." The only thing Susan really was sure of was that she was dying, absolutely dying. She tried to calm herself, "Deep breath, deep breaths. There always are other jobs. There always are other jobs." 

"Well Susan, tell us something about yourself." She couldn't believe it--the exact question she and Ben rehearsed! And slowly, her terror subsided.

Most interviewers aren't pros at it so they rely mainly on stock questions. So it wasn't surprising that many of the questions were those she had prepared for, like, "What's your greatest strength and greatest weakness?" She resisted giving the stock BS answer: "I tend to take my work too seriously but I'm working on dialing it back a little." Instead she said, "Well, I've never been an academic adviser before. I like to think I could do it because I did well working with the middle school kids but do you think someone like me could do the job?" The integrity, the non-desperation, was more impressive than any BS answer. 

They did ask a few questions she couldn't have prepared for, for example, "Your biggest challenge will be dealing with the many students we admit to college who frankly aren't at all prepared for college work. Most of them end up dropping out. How would you do academic advising with such students?"

Her first thought was, "Why would you admit students you know are so likely to fail, costing them money and time they could have more wisely spent, not to mention the assault to their self-esteem?" But she realized that would endanger her chances of getting the job while not changing the university's admission policy. So she just said, "Baby steps. All I can do is help them come up with smart baby steps and be encouraging without being dishonest. Does that make sense?"

Standard interview advice encourages you to exude confidence. But too often that appears like phony bravura. Honesty trumps overconfidence...at least with the sort of employer you'd want to work for. 

She had another challenge to her honesty. An interviewer asked her, "What would you say to a student who says, 'Why do I need to learn about the symbolism in Milton's poetry, about stochastic processes in chemistry. I'm from the inner city. I want to go going back to my community to be an accountant. Isn't there more important stuff they could teach me?"

She was afraid to give the stock answer, "A liberal arts education prepares you for life." Not only is it a cliche, she wasn't quite sure she believed that learning about the symbolism in Milton's poetry teaches you more about life than say a course in conflict resolution. She decided to strike a middle ground: "There is truth to the idea that a liberal arts education prepares you for life but I'm afraid if I said that to a student, he'd blow me off. So I'd probably say something like, "I understand. Might it help, as you're taking these courses, to ask yourself, "How the hell could I apply this to real life? Actually some of it does."

Throughout, remembering how important chemistry is, Susan did smile appropriately, was enthusiastic, and asked a couple of questions that showed she had thought about the job. And she used a technique she used when coaching singers: As you're singing, look one audience member pleasantly in the eye, then someone a little to the right and so on. Susan did that with the interviewers and often, they smiled back at her. Chemistry! 

At the end, the director asked, "Do you have any other questions?" Susan didn't ask a standard question like, "When will you let me know?" That would make her seem desperate. Nor did she ask a question that suggested a less-than-great work ethic like, "How much vacation will I get?" 

Instead she was deciding among three: "If I were to be an outstanding employee, what would you hope to see in the first month?" "Every workplace has its cultural norms. What sort of person fits best here?" and "Anything make you hesitant to offer me the job?" She decided on the latter. She thought, "If he raises an objection, I have a chance to counter it. If he says that nothing makes him hesitant, it concretizes his commitment to me, making him more likely to offer me the job."

His answer, "I guess nothing is making me hesitant. He turned to the other interviewers. They all shook their head---no objections. "Well then, I say we offer you the job right here." They all smiled--including, of course, Susan. "It's only part-time and the contract ends at the end of the school year but the pay isn't bad: $22 an hour plus benefits. What do you think?"

"I think, yes!"

The next episode is HERE.

Days of Our Work Lives: An unvarnished look at work today: Part II: Susan's Saga. Episode 10: The Dinner

Days of Our Work Lives Part II: Susan's Saga  
Episode 10The Dinner
In the previous episode, Ben gave Susan quite the lesson on how to reduce her procrastination. But more potent than his tips was his suggesting they postpone their first date--his coming over for dinner--until she felt she made progress on her job search.

Well, the next week, Susan job-searched-up a storm: She wrote custom-applications for the ten best-fit jobs she could find on the superjob sites: Indeed.com and SimplyHired.com. She looked at the websites of local colleges--She pictured herself happiest working on a campus, especially as an academic adviser. Alas she found nothing on-target so she defied herself and phoned the director of academic advising at each college. And lo and behold, at Central Washington State University (where she had taken that impenetrable Excel course,) the director said, "We'll be posting a position for an academic advisor. It will only be part-time/temp, but if you like, I'd be pleased to have you come in for a cup of coffee."

As soon as Susan got off the phone, she called Ben: "Dinner is served."

Of course, the dinner's first minutes were awkward. They'd have to be, even  if she weren't a new widow and he hadn't just broken up with his girlfriend. It is rather unusual for a woman to--for their first date--invite a guy to dinner. 

But they relaxed more quickly than either of them predicted. Part of it was that he had been tutoring her, part was that they had an obvious topic of conversation: her upcoming job interview, but the biggest part was that they somehow felt magically compatible. They couldn't explain it but they both felt it. But they both knew that the place to start was to talk about the job interview.

Ben began, "You sound really excited about the job."

"I am but I'm terrified about the interview."

"Remember, I'm always having to work on contract. That means, every few months, I have to go on another string of interviews. So I've read a zillion articles on interviewing, even Marty Nemko's.  ;-)  And I joined Toastmasters, which made me much more comfortable talking in front of people, and actually, I met someone there who got me a job. But there's no time for that now."

Susan asked, "So what are the most important things you've learned about interviewing?"

"It basically comes down to three things: First and maybe most important, create chemistry."

"How do you do that?"

"It's hard to say but the obvious really helps: have good eye contact, smile when it feels natural to do so, err on the side of being positive, and be enthusiastic. For example, ask a question or two that shows you read the job description carefully."

"What else?"

"Have ready a few one-minute PAR stories that would impress that employer: some p roblem you faced, the impressive way you a pproached it, and the p ositive result."

"But I don't think I've done anything that would impress him."

"Everyone has. Think."

"Well, how about this? I had a singing student who was thinking of dropping out of college. We talked a lot and I was very patient. Finally he told me it was because his girlfriend broke up with him and he couldn't bear to run into her on campus."

"That is the perfect story!"

"And the third thing I need to remember about interviewing?"

"You can't anticipate all the questions but be prepared for two. The first is the question you're most afraid he'll ask."

"I'm afraid he'll ask why I left my previous job. I can't tell him I was accused of creating a hostile environment for gays."

"You were acquitted."

"Acquitted or not, he won't take the risk of hiring me."

"If you tell him the whole story, all that detail will make clear that you really did nothing wrong. And unless he's a silly guy, he'll really appreciate that you answered honestly rather than making up some stock BS answer. Honesty may be the most important ingredient missing in job interviews."

"And in society. Deep down, all of us crave integrity."

"Susan, if he sees integrity in you, he'll see your telling him as a net plus."

"What's the other question I should be prepared for?"

"Some version of "Tell me about yourself." 

"Do I start with where I was born?"

"No. Take about one minute to tell the pieces of your life's chronology that would convey that this job is a logical next step for you. Wanna try one?"

"How's something like this: "I always liked college and really appreciated my academic advisor. He was very helpful in steering me to the right courses and majors. Then more recently, I worked with at-risk kids and spent quite a bit of time advising them and I loved it. So I was really excited when you invited me to come talk with you about a possible academic advisor job here."

"Susan, you're amazing!" He looked into her eyes the way Rory had. But this didn't feel like a technique. This felt real. 

He leaned over toward her but she got scared. "Ben, I think it's time to call it a night."

"I understand. Will you see me again?"

"If next time, you'll let me come see your place."

With thoughts of Ben and the interview tomorrow, she couldn't sleep.

The next episode is HERE.

Susan's Saga: An unvarnished look at work today: Episode 10: The Dinner

The Sapian Family Saga Part II: Susan's Saga  
Episode 10The Dinner
In the previous episode, Ben gave Susan quite the lesson on how to reduce her procrastination. But more potent than his tips was his suggesting they postpone their first date--his coming over for dinner--until she felt she made progress on her job search.

Well, the next week, Susan job-searched-up a storm: She wrote custom-applications for the ten best-fit jobs she could find on the superjob sites: Indeed.com and SimplyHired.com. She looked at the websites of local colleges--She pictured herself happiest working on a campus, especially as an academic adviser. Alas she found nothing on-target so she defied herself and phoned the director of academic advising at each college. And lo and behold, at Central Washington State University (where she took that impenetrable Excel course,) the director said, "We'll be posting a position for an academic advisor. It will only be part-time/temp, but if you like, I'd be pleased to have you come in for a cup of coffee."

As soon as Susan got off the phone, she called Ben: "Dinner is served."

Of course, the dinner's first minutes were awkward. They'd have to be, even  if she wasn't a new widow and he hadn't just broken up with his girlfriend. It is rather unusual for a woman to--for their first date--invite a guy to dinner. 

But they relaxed more quickly than either of them predicted. Part of it was that he had been tutoring her, part was that they had an obvious topic of conversation: her upcoming job interview, but the biggest part was that they somehow felt magically compatible. They couldn't explain it but they both felt it. But they both knew that the place to start was to talk about the job interview.

Ben began. "You sound really excited about the job."

"I am but I'm terrified about the interview."

"Remember, I'm always having to work on contract. That means, every few months, I have to go on another string of interviews. So I've read a zillion articles on interviewing, even Marty Nemko's.  ;-)  And I joined Toastmasters, which made me much more comfortable talking in front of people, and actually, met someone there who got me a job. But there's no time for that now."

Susan asked, "So what are the most important things you've learned about interviewing?"

"It basically comes down to three things: First and maybe most important, create chemistry."

"How do you do that?"

"It is hard to say but the obvious really helps: have good eye contact, smile when it feels natural to do so, err on the side of being positive, and be enthusiastic. For example, ask a question or two that shows you read the job description carefully."

"What else?"

"Have a few one-minute PAR stories that would impress that employer: some p roblem you faced, the impressive way you a pproached it, and the p ositive result."

"But I don't think I've done anything that would impress him."

"Everyone has. Think."

"How about this? I had a piano student who was thinking of dropping out of college. We talked a lot and I was very patient. Finally he told me it was because his girlfriend broke up with him and he couldn't bear to run into her on campus."

"That is the perfect story!"

"And the third thing I need to remember about interviewing?"

"You can't anticipate all the questions but be prepared for two. The first is the question you're most afraid he'll ask."

"I'm afraid he'll ask why I left my previous job. I can't tell him I was accused of creating a hostile environment for gays."

"You were acquitted."

"Acquitted or not, he won't take the risk of hiring me."

"If you tell him the whole story, all that detail will make clear that you really did nothing wrong. And unless he's a silly guy, he'll really appreciate that, rather than making up some stock BS answer, you answered honestly. Honesty may be the most important ingredient missing in job interviews."

"And in society. Deep down, all of us crave integrity."

"Susan, if he sees integrity in you, he'll end up viewing your telling him about it as a net plus."

"What's the other question I should be prepared for?"

"Some version of "Tell me about yourself." 

"Do I start with where I was born?"

"No. Take about one minute to tell the pieces of your life's chronology that would convey that this job is a logical next step for you. Wanna try one?"

"Okay. How's something like this: "I always liked college and really appreciated my academic advisor. He was very helpful in steering me to the right courses and majors. Then more recently, I worked with at-risk kids and spent quite a bit of time advising them and I loved it. So I was really excited when you invited me to come talk with you about a possible academic advisor job here."

"Susan, you're amazing!" He looked into her eyes the way Rory had. But this didn't feel like a technique. This felt real. 

He leaned over toward her, but she got scared. "Ben, I think it's time to call it a night."

"I understand. Will you see me again?"

"If next time, you'll let me come to see your place."

With thoughts of Ben and the interview tomorrow, she couldn't sleep.

I hope to post the next episode tomorrow morning.

Days of Our Work Lives: An unvarnished look at work today: Part II: Susan's Saga. Episode 9: Procrastinating

[image error] Days of Our Work Lives Part II: Susan's Saga  Episode 9: Procrastinating
In the previous episode, a claim by a student's parent that Susan had created a hostile environment toward gays was found baseless. But disgusted by the unfair inquisition, Susan then quit. 

But now what?

That job had fallen into her lap, the result of her volunteering. But now she needed to find a job, with no time for additional months of volunteering and schmoozing in hopes it will lead to something. 

She dreaded having to look for a job:

No matter how she carefully she crafted her resume, if honest, it would unlikely be top-of-the-stack for any job, even a menial one. She felt she needed all her ducks in a row but had few ducks, in a row or otherwise. 

She found the networking game distasteful. She was, for example, repulsed at using social media for leads, for example, retweeting someone's posts not because they were so wonderful but because it makes the person more likely to tout you. As a result, judgments are made not on merit but on scheming.  She didn't mind getting together with her close friends but they'd be unlikely to have a useful job lead.  

Cold-calling target employers is a surprisingly effective job-search strategy but Susan was shy even about stopping someone on the street for directions. The thought of bothering employers not advertising a job and pitching herself felt anathema. That was especially so because she felt she brought little to the table, basically saying, "I'm not great but would you hire me anyway?"

Nor did she feel good about requesting an informational interview. Even if she told the employer she wasn't expecting a job from him or her, she feared it would be perceived as a ploy to access an employer, like cutting in line at a movie theater whose performance will be sold out. 

Even answering ads--the least offensive of the job-search methods--felt onerous. She knew that many people carefully answer dozens of ads and usually don't even get the courtesy of a rejection--silence is today's rejection letter. And reports of hundreds of applications even for jobs at Wal-Mart could make anyone procrastinate. 

And indeed procrastination had been Susan's career cancer, indeed life cancer. So often she knew what she should do but couldn't make herself do it. She'd rationalize that she'd feel more like doing it tomorrow but too rarely did. Even though she was well aware that the short-term pain of doing the task would be outweighed by the long-term gain, she rarely could get comfortable being uncomfortable.

She did step-up the Excel tutoring sessions with Ben. That would add a duck to her row. 

One day, Ben asked her how her job search is going. When she tepidly answered, "Okay," Ben said, "It's easy to put off looking for a job. Part of my tutoring service is being a loving taskmaster."

The word she mainly heard was "loving." She thought, "That doesn't sound like what a guy with a girlfriend would say. Maybe they broke up?" But after being rebuffed when she invited him to dinner, she'd keep those thoughts to herself. "Okay, loving taskmaster, what should I do?"

"Obviously, you have to break the job search into baby steps. Write it on a whiteboard or something. Then, every time you get an item done, erase it or put a check-mark next to it. When you're tempted to procrastinate, picture how you'd benefit if you landed a good job...

"Like be proud of myself. Be able to afford stuff." 

"And what could happen if you did procrastinate."

"Be a bag lady."

"I doubt that would happen but...

"I have a hard time getting started."

"Maybe be more conscious of that moment of truth, that moment you're deciding, usually unconsciously, whether to do the task or something fun."

"The problem is the task of landing a job seems so enormous."

"Might it help to ask yourself, "What's my next one-second task?" That's a friendly, unintimidating amount of time."

"Like even turn on the computer."

"Yup. Even that can get you started. Then ask yourself, "What's my next one-second task?"

"And then I'm an object in motion, which tends to stay in motion."

"Right."

"I really procrastinate when I reach a hard part." 

"Maybe you should struggle with a hard part for just a minute or so. If you haven't made progress by then, chances are that more struggling won't help. It'll just make the process more odious which will make you want to procrastinate more."

"So what do I do when I reach a roadblock I can't make progress on in one minute?"

"Either figure you can let it go and work on something else, or if you can't, call someone to get help. Even me." 

Susan didn't want to jump on that lest she reveal her feelings about him but she didn't want to ignore it either so she said, "I worry I won't stay on track."

"How about this? Every night, you make a list of what you hope to accomplish tomorrow and email to me. I'll make a point of checking my email every night before I go to bed."

That sounded sexier than if he offered to check in the morning. "Was he flirting?" she wondered. And she got her answer. 

"Susan, is your offer to make dinner still good?"

"Still good."

"Would it help if we don't schedule it until you feel you've made good progress in your job search?"

She thought, "That will motivate me more than all those procrastination tips." But all she said was, "Okay." 

The next episode is HERE.