I was complaining about the state of my tennis game. I started playing the game later in life and I wasn’t particularly athletic during my school years. I play two types of players: Guys half my age that seem to run down my best shots effortlessly and guys around my age that have been playing since they were two years old. I was lamenting my sad fate to my buddy when he asked me why I played the game. “Because I love it,” I said.
Then he said something to me that completely changed my outlook. “Len, you’ve been successful in other areas of your life, why do you feel you have to be so successful at tennis? Could tennis be a game you just play for fun without worrying about whether you win or lose?” Had I been undergoing a brain MRI when he said those words the technicians would have been treated to a light show rivaling the Pinball Wizard’s pinball machine.
How many times in your life does someone drop a gem into a casual conversation that wipes the clouds away, and allows you to see things with the clarity of the Hubble Space Telescope? It’s not the kind of thing that occurs every day but when it happens we are more than grateful. My friend’s tip wasn’t a life changing experience. Yet it has helped me enjoy tennis even more and, I am happy to note, my game seems to have improved now that I’ve relaxed. (If by some chance you’ve seen me play recently, go along. It makes the story better.)
Once in a while someone says something to you that does dramatically change your life for the better. It’s happened to me more than once. My wife said yes when I asked her to marry me. Certainly men and women I have worked for have given me a nudge in a better direction, often when I was drifting. I write because friends and colleagues said I had potential.
Saying something insightful requires exquisite timing, an impeccable choice of words and a listener who has stopped watching The Food Channel just long enough to connect the dots. With the possible exception of motivational speakers, being profound is not the kind of thing one goes around doing all the time. It would be nice to be able to routinely dispense sage advice. But who can plan for such moments? I suppose the best we can do is listen carefully for opportunities to help, do our best to keep our motives pure and speak the truth as we know it, recognizing that our “truth” has its limitations. Naturally, knowing when to say something and when to be still is yet another challenge. Silence at the right time can also be profound.
As a sophomore in high school, Brother Quigley, a member of the Irish Christian order, said something that stuck with me. “When your life is over,” he said, “even if you don’t make it to heaven, you will be amazed by how much good you’ve done.”
Well, if we each have a heavenly bank account that stores good works, all I can say is this: The longer I live the more I worry about whether my account balance is large enough to alleviate some of the things I’ve done that would have been better left unrecorded. Does helping someone improve his life for the better count if I do it by accident?
Most of us have not chosen lives in any way similar to Mother Teresa’s. Yet, in our daily lives we probably unknowingly say and do things that inspire others to change their behavior, take a chance, or become more giving in their relationships. It isn’t always immediately obvious when someone’s words and actions change the way we think or feel. Too often probably, we don’t appreciate the impact others have on us in the moment. When someone’s good work finally dawns on us, how often do we make the effort to tell them how much it meant to us? And do we get points for that too? Don’t laugh! I’m in the September of my years.
My friend probably never imagined he was dispensing marvelous wisdom about my tennis game. At least not consciously; most likely, he felt he was just going along with the flow of the conversation. Sometimes my friend reads The Observer. I hope he recognizes himself. If he doesn’t I’ll have to tell him what his words meant to me. I need the points.
Copyright 2009 Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
That Enthusiastic New Kid
Pity the new employee. She comes into the job excited that her new boss picked her over a slew of other candidates. She is ready to love her new co-workers. She’s ready to make dramatic changes in her department.
She’s also the only person in the office that doesn’t know the tribal secrets. With just a few false steps she can and will be voted off the island. If she lasts long enough to become a full fledged member of the tribe she may wish she had been voted out. More likely, she’ll rue the day she agreed to set foot in the office she now believes is Limbo, Dante’s first circle of hell.
As my friend Heather said, “We’ve all seen the enthusiasm of the new person at work. It’s intriguing to watch what happens to them.” All of us have been in the new kid’s shoes at one time or another. It’s hard not to feel a little pity for her. At the same time it’s probably even harder not to find the newbie’s rose colored glasses annoying. Maybe it’s because we envy her. For those of us who have chosen the rat race, is there a better feeling than the notion, however fleeting, that we can make a difference?
What happens to the enthusiasm of the new person? I’m sure you know, but let’s review for old time’s sake. For starters, exactly three months after your first day on the job, they make you turn in your halo. Until that moment your brain works perfectly. You are infallible. Every idea, every suggestion and every analysis is greeted with knowing nods of agreement. You’re a breath of fresh air, bright and even funny. The boss thinks you’re wonderful. After all he picked you didn’t he? Who are the chowder heads in the chorus to disagree? But, once the halo is gone, turned over the guy who started work this morning, you suddenly morph from sage to sagebrush. Wasn’t that why you left your last job?
Right around the time the halo is transferred to the newer kid, you hear a rumor, never confirmed, that someone with less experience and the work ethic of the proverbial grasshopper is making a lot more than you do.
Then you decide that accountability is not exactly the coin of the realm in the organization you came to change. Your co-workers seem vaguely annoyed that they are required to show up for work to be paid. Would expecting them to do something productive during the 40 hours they are on the premises be unreasonable? You notice that their supervisors spend an inordinate amount of time on Monday mornings collecting money for lottery tickets. On Fridays they make the same rounds for the weekend’s football games. Once the Super Bowl is over and done, March Madness is on the horizon. Anyone whose team makes it to the Final Four is exempted from answering phones or responding to emails until the boss notices they’ve stopped working.
It’s about this time that you come to believe the guy in the corner office is crazy. By no means is this a metaphorical term. It’s merely an unkind word for a legitimate, if non-specific, diagnosis. The chief executive insists on making all the decisions, including the most important decision of all, which is not to make them. He schedules an all day meeting with an agenda full of important topics. After a six hour monologue he closes the meeting by saying, “We got a lot done today.” As you nod your head in vigorous agreement it dawns on you, now the formerly enthusiastic new person, that it’s over. It’s not going to be different here than it was the last place you worked.
If you’re nodding your head in agreement, thinking, “Yes, I have been there and done that,” an eerie feeling should come over you. What if this is the best Americans can do now? Obviously there are many people in this country doing great things and succeeding admirably. But I worry about creeping mediocrity in too many areas of our lives. A flight went down over Buffalo last winter while the pilot and co-pilot of a doomed commuter plane discussed their inexperience and lack of expertise in coping with icy conditions. Recently the media ran a story about a couple given the wrong embryo.
Shouldn’t we embrace and then emulate the enthusiasm of the new person? The pursuit of excellence is a communicable condition. Catch it if you dare.
Copyright 2009, Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
She’s also the only person in the office that doesn’t know the tribal secrets. With just a few false steps she can and will be voted off the island. If she lasts long enough to become a full fledged member of the tribe she may wish she had been voted out. More likely, she’ll rue the day she agreed to set foot in the office she now believes is Limbo, Dante’s first circle of hell.
As my friend Heather said, “We’ve all seen the enthusiasm of the new person at work. It’s intriguing to watch what happens to them.” All of us have been in the new kid’s shoes at one time or another. It’s hard not to feel a little pity for her. At the same time it’s probably even harder not to find the newbie’s rose colored glasses annoying. Maybe it’s because we envy her. For those of us who have chosen the rat race, is there a better feeling than the notion, however fleeting, that we can make a difference?
What happens to the enthusiasm of the new person? I’m sure you know, but let’s review for old time’s sake. For starters, exactly three months after your first day on the job, they make you turn in your halo. Until that moment your brain works perfectly. You are infallible. Every idea, every suggestion and every analysis is greeted with knowing nods of agreement. You’re a breath of fresh air, bright and even funny. The boss thinks you’re wonderful. After all he picked you didn’t he? Who are the chowder heads in the chorus to disagree? But, once the halo is gone, turned over the guy who started work this morning, you suddenly morph from sage to sagebrush. Wasn’t that why you left your last job?
Right around the time the halo is transferred to the newer kid, you hear a rumor, never confirmed, that someone with less experience and the work ethic of the proverbial grasshopper is making a lot more than you do.
Then you decide that accountability is not exactly the coin of the realm in the organization you came to change. Your co-workers seem vaguely annoyed that they are required to show up for work to be paid. Would expecting them to do something productive during the 40 hours they are on the premises be unreasonable? You notice that their supervisors spend an inordinate amount of time on Monday mornings collecting money for lottery tickets. On Fridays they make the same rounds for the weekend’s football games. Once the Super Bowl is over and done, March Madness is on the horizon. Anyone whose team makes it to the Final Four is exempted from answering phones or responding to emails until the boss notices they’ve stopped working.
It’s about this time that you come to believe the guy in the corner office is crazy. By no means is this a metaphorical term. It’s merely an unkind word for a legitimate, if non-specific, diagnosis. The chief executive insists on making all the decisions, including the most important decision of all, which is not to make them. He schedules an all day meeting with an agenda full of important topics. After a six hour monologue he closes the meeting by saying, “We got a lot done today.” As you nod your head in vigorous agreement it dawns on you, now the formerly enthusiastic new person, that it’s over. It’s not going to be different here than it was the last place you worked.
If you’re nodding your head in agreement, thinking, “Yes, I have been there and done that,” an eerie feeling should come over you. What if this is the best Americans can do now? Obviously there are many people in this country doing great things and succeeding admirably. But I worry about creeping mediocrity in too many areas of our lives. A flight went down over Buffalo last winter while the pilot and co-pilot of a doomed commuter plane discussed their inexperience and lack of expertise in coping with icy conditions. Recently the media ran a story about a couple given the wrong embryo.
Shouldn’t we embrace and then emulate the enthusiasm of the new person? The pursuit of excellence is a communicable condition. Catch it if you dare.
Copyright 2009, Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Job Interview? I Might be Rusty
I heard from a recruiter the other day who, against all odds, thought I might be a good candidate for a management position with a health care company. Interested in me? I’m at the age now where my resume is far less interesting than my Outlook contacts list.
I’m more than happy to help of course, working on the assumption that those who preceded me may have mentioned my name and given my career a boost. Still, it is flattering to be asked whether I might be interested in an opportunity. Somewhere between age fifty and today, the calls dwindled down to a precious few. I have loads of experience and enough energy to stoke the growth engines of a company on the move, but my hair is gray and no matter what the hair color commercials say, a return to black won’t change the fact that I was in the class of ’70.
Regardless, I got to thinking about how I might handle an interview. I’m a bit rusty and the role of the green, eager beaver on the make is a distant memory. Do interviewers still ask the same questions they were asking ten or fifteen years ago? Some of the questions are bound to trip me up. Interview queries I used to handle with aplomb might turn into a bomb if not handled carefully. Consider some of the time honored questions and responses I might offer having spent six full decades on earth.
“Where would you like to be in five years?”
“Not dead,” comes to mind immediately. It’s honest but probably not what my prospective employer has in mind. Could I keep a straight face if I give the response conventional wisdom demands? “I hope to be in a position with more responsibility once I have proven my ability and added value to the company in my current position.” Chances are I will have already accomplished more than my new and much younger boss has even attempted with 14 months of experience in his current position. Let’s face it, in five years I hope to be still turning down Social Security payments because, having won the Power Ball lottery, my annual annuity is way above the SSA threshold.
“Why are you thinking of changing jobs?” Again the traditional response, “I am seeking a new challenge that will help me to grow…” seems woefully inappropriate. Lately my interests run toward not growing things like tumors and the size of my stomach. The most accurate answer might be, “I’m here because I can’t believe you saw my resume, guessed my age and still asked to meet me.” I have to admit I would be excited if the interviewer turned out to be around my age. Maybe my new boss will be as perplexed as I am about exactly how annuities work. We would have a lot in common I’m sure.
“Tell me about yourself.”
Yikes! “How much time do you have?” Thanks to the natural shrinkage of my frontal lobes, the part of the brain that enables us to edit ourselves, my answer could run long and might include an episode where I called a high level executive an SOB and nearly blew a multi- million dollar deal.
“Tell me about a time when you overcame a serious problem and how you did it.”
“Weren’t you listening? Or didn’t I mention that I hid in my office for two years every time the SOB came to our company for a meeting.”
“Why should we hire you instead of someone else?”
Here again experienced professionals know that this is a good time to reiterate your strengths, accomplishments and burning desire to be part of an outstanding team. At this stage of my life though, I am sorely tempted to say, “How should I know? You’re the one doing the interviews. If you like, I’ll interview the other candidates and give you an assessment.” Of course it’s quite possible that I will come out the winner. If nothing else I’ll be able to answer the interviewer’s query specifically. “You should hire me because the other candidates don’t have enough experience. And I might add I have yet to be indicted for anything.”
“Would you like to have this job?
“Maybe. How far is the restroom from my office?”
“When can you start?”
“Thursday assuming the Power Ball ticket I bought Wednesday is another five bucks down the drain.”
Copyright 2009, Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
I’m more than happy to help of course, working on the assumption that those who preceded me may have mentioned my name and given my career a boost. Still, it is flattering to be asked whether I might be interested in an opportunity. Somewhere between age fifty and today, the calls dwindled down to a precious few. I have loads of experience and enough energy to stoke the growth engines of a company on the move, but my hair is gray and no matter what the hair color commercials say, a return to black won’t change the fact that I was in the class of ’70.
Regardless, I got to thinking about how I might handle an interview. I’m a bit rusty and the role of the green, eager beaver on the make is a distant memory. Do interviewers still ask the same questions they were asking ten or fifteen years ago? Some of the questions are bound to trip me up. Interview queries I used to handle with aplomb might turn into a bomb if not handled carefully. Consider some of the time honored questions and responses I might offer having spent six full decades on earth.
“Where would you like to be in five years?”
“Not dead,” comes to mind immediately. It’s honest but probably not what my prospective employer has in mind. Could I keep a straight face if I give the response conventional wisdom demands? “I hope to be in a position with more responsibility once I have proven my ability and added value to the company in my current position.” Chances are I will have already accomplished more than my new and much younger boss has even attempted with 14 months of experience in his current position. Let’s face it, in five years I hope to be still turning down Social Security payments because, having won the Power Ball lottery, my annual annuity is way above the SSA threshold.
“Why are you thinking of changing jobs?” Again the traditional response, “I am seeking a new challenge that will help me to grow…” seems woefully inappropriate. Lately my interests run toward not growing things like tumors and the size of my stomach. The most accurate answer might be, “I’m here because I can’t believe you saw my resume, guessed my age and still asked to meet me.” I have to admit I would be excited if the interviewer turned out to be around my age. Maybe my new boss will be as perplexed as I am about exactly how annuities work. We would have a lot in common I’m sure.
“Tell me about yourself.”
Yikes! “How much time do you have?” Thanks to the natural shrinkage of my frontal lobes, the part of the brain that enables us to edit ourselves, my answer could run long and might include an episode where I called a high level executive an SOB and nearly blew a multi- million dollar deal.
“Tell me about a time when you overcame a serious problem and how you did it.”
“Weren’t you listening? Or didn’t I mention that I hid in my office for two years every time the SOB came to our company for a meeting.”
“Why should we hire you instead of someone else?”
Here again experienced professionals know that this is a good time to reiterate your strengths, accomplishments and burning desire to be part of an outstanding team. At this stage of my life though, I am sorely tempted to say, “How should I know? You’re the one doing the interviews. If you like, I’ll interview the other candidates and give you an assessment.” Of course it’s quite possible that I will come out the winner. If nothing else I’ll be able to answer the interviewer’s query specifically. “You should hire me because the other candidates don’t have enough experience. And I might add I have yet to be indicted for anything.”
“Would you like to have this job?
“Maybe. How far is the restroom from my office?”
“When can you start?”
“Thursday assuming the Power Ball ticket I bought Wednesday is another five bucks down the drain.”
Copyright 2009, Len Serafino. All rights reserved.
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