tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84809578960881594862024-02-02T17:53:16.214-06:00From the Looking GlassA series of musings on the world around meConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-31337539414889812622016-03-27T12:53:00.005-05:002016-03-27T12:53:58.884-05:00You know I can see you, right?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCoASQ6drpAKu9Fy03l32OpEPUeJh4O1q8CQu07aTMr53cPlux71E21MXu5wTruzYHsbFuIN3OMTr7nSkzmSp90mpnMbHyj0lQjzm4CRGiuP2ZTdFH_l5HYyEgm_0I5qi7VJagUUvHL3wH/s1600/hollywood-chicago.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCoASQ6drpAKu9Fy03l32OpEPUeJh4O1q8CQu07aTMr53cPlux71E21MXu5wTruzYHsbFuIN3OMTr7nSkzmSp90mpnMbHyj0lQjzm4CRGiuP2ZTdFH_l5HYyEgm_0I5qi7VJagUUvHL3wH/s320/hollywood-chicago.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Hello?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know I can see you, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On your computer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The interviewee?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">With
the influx of video interviews, comes the invariable video interviewing
outtakes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, at least what I wish
were outtakes, as for this job searcher, I find the total lack of regard for
what is going on in all of these video interviews ranges from making me laugh,
to wondering what this interviewer was thinking . . .or wasn’t he?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s take a look at some recent scenarios
that should have been outtakes but unfortunately for me, were not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Outtake #1-</span></u></b><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> Be careful what is in the
background.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I get that everyone is busy
but an interviewer the other day, did my Skype interview in a bedroom . . . .complete
with an unmade bed in the background.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hotel room? Working from home?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
have no idea, but as this guy said, he was “running late”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So late that he couldn’t find another room to do the interview from?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Outtake #2- Multitasking</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While I totally understand that everyone is busier
than ever these days, it is an interview.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A young man who was interviewing me the other day was actually running a
razor over his face while we talked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Must
be a “running late” syndrome going on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>See outtake #1.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Outtake #3- Weird objects
hanging on the walls</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unless you are interviewing for
a taxidermy company, dead animal heads hanging on the wall behind you could be
a turn off for some perspective employees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Maybe a phone interview would be better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Outtake #4</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">- <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Ancillary people in the shot</b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I get that people doing the interviews are at work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when teams of people are stopping by to
say hi, or just wondering what you are doing, it might be time to get a
conference room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just a suggestion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Outtake #5- Lighting</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Video conferences rely on lighting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If your room is so dark that I really can’t
see you, what’s the point of a video conference? Therefore once again, a phone
call could work better, see outtake #3.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">For
those of us interviewees, let me offer some suggestions so that the interviewer
isn’t shaking his head on the other side as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Light
is important.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Natural light is best but
feel free to augment it with a ceiling light that will add shine to your hair
and a glint in your eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And also think
to add a table lamp to erase shadows on your face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">White
paper on the table in front of you will also help to reflect up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And finally, like those pics we all think we
look the best in, raise the computer camera up so that you are not staring down
into it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing looks worse than a face
hanging down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have several different
shirts or tops and try them on to see how each of them look on camera and with
the various light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trust me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It matters.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I’m
lucky for I spent most of my career watching commercials be lit, lit again and
re lit for just the right view of the product.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Today
we are the product.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t we deserve the
same treatment?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Hello?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know I can SEE you, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you wearing a swimsuit?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-61439600357987000182015-10-27T22:00:00.002-05:002015-10-28T11:53:35.093-05:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>I was interviewed by an Avatar . . . .</b></span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVHHbdWpKPi89ESYJ2HHErrhI10fFBV2EfYzqyuPD0xnJTEJm-JZWFVaQtAumlThyphenhyphen7ZoS_UECQij0A3z5PTf1QEvoGW5RcRsE7KeH39VmR6lQVNQapr_wlg5wcd1BF2tksWcSF_a-77h01/s1600/computer-meeting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVHHbdWpKPi89ESYJ2HHErrhI10fFBV2EfYzqyuPD0xnJTEJm-JZWFVaQtAumlThyphenhyphen7ZoS_UECQij0A3z5PTf1QEvoGW5RcRsE7KeH39VmR6lQVNQapr_wlg5wcd1BF2tksWcSF_a-77h01/s1600/computer-meeting.jpg" /></span></a><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">A</span><span style="font-family: Arial;">s one
who hadn't looked for a new job since gas was about a buck a gallon and postage
to actually mail a letter was only 22 cents (mailing a letter alone should tell
you how long it's been) I realized that many things had changed but some
not for the better in the job hunting process.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Take for
example the role technology plays in the job search today. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"> Just
when I thought I had seen it all . . . I was interviewed by an
Avatar. Yep. An Avatar. Her name was “Ann”, she
wore a paisley scarf, and this is her story. Mine too, I guess but I
am sure the view from her perspective was far funnier than from mine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Take a
deep breath, job hunters, as this gets a little painful. The
experience went something like this:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I sit
down at my computer at the scheduled interview time, thinking I am doing
another Skype interview which have become so popular. I log into the
appropriate site and wait. My computer screen opens and a cartoon
woman, an Avatar, if you will, is sitting at a desk with her arms folded.
"Hello, Carol", she said in a soft voice. "I'm Ann
and I'll be doing your interview today. Let's begin by saying your
name"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">"Carol
Koepke", said I, thinking this was going to be interesting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"> "Oh
c'mon.” she says. “You can do better than that. I can barely hear
you".<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">"CAROL
KOEPKE!" I scream at my screen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"> "Thank
you", says she. "Now let's begin."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">At this
point the first question comes up on the screen and the second I open my mouth
to answer it, the camera on my computer comes on and they record my response.
The second I stop talking? Zwoop. The screen goes black and
I'm back talking to "Ann". <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Now
"Ann" is sitting on the edge of her desk. Legs crossed,
arms folded, looking like she is going to have a casual discussion with me.
"Thank you for that", says she and the next question comes up
on the screen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I answer
and once again the screen goes back to “Ann”.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">This time
“Ann” must clearly be thinking she has other things to do than talk to me, for
she is standing, and is pinching off dead leaves on a potted plant in her
office. She offers up some encouragement and then the next question pops
up on the screen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">At this
point I have decided I have had enough of this entire process, so I begin to
interact with "Ann", albeit a one sided conversation. I compliment
her on her paisley scarf, her perfectly coiffed hair, her practical work shoes
(not too high of a heel) and ask where her kids go to school. All the
while answering the interview questions and all the while knowing I was being
recorded. Unfortunately, “Ann” did not respond to my questioning but then
again, I really didn't expect her to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">After my
final answer, the screen goes dark and I sign off. And within 30 minutes
my phone rings and it's a live HR professional laughing and saying that my
interview was the funniest one they had seen and they needed to get me in for a
"real interview".<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"> A
real interview, thought I? What the heck was what I had just done, and if
it wasn't real, why waste my time? But as I found on this transitional
journey, oftentimes, my time wasn't really valued. And what I really
found interesting is when did companies forget that interviews go both ways,
with both sides wondering if the "fit" is right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"> So,
in the end, that job turned out not to be a good fit for me. I know I need to
be in an organization that values it’s people. And an Avatar doing an
interview? Doesn’t leave you feeling that way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Who ever
created this software (and the companies that pre screen with it) get a failing
grade in my book. We're talking about people. We're talking about
people’s livelihoods, incomes that support families and make it possible for
things in life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">While I
love technology as it makes my life easier every day, I think technology in the
job search needs to benefit both sides. And in this instance, it was a
abject failure in this job hunter's opinion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">But know
that I wish “Ann” well in all of her future endeavors. And be sure to
tell her hi! if you meet up with her during your job search.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-78040196911163796022013-03-10T11:38:00.000-05:002013-03-10T17:55:17.217-05:00Smart Women<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMgg8G4DI-u3QduktKLZBe_bIFKliEH7BEyLIuzzt0Ym4jDiLGvCsNhJXBYhZEl9bpSi4HJ1EXxwbimx2yQ5QAakvdyTJCC9JUR9Bzlm_ibGBoBP-6EATp0TMm31WgQxFnfUbhyphenhyphenB-gQ_t/s1600/smart-woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMgg8G4DI-u3QduktKLZBe_bIFKliEH7BEyLIuzzt0Ym4jDiLGvCsNhJXBYhZEl9bpSi4HJ1EXxwbimx2yQ5QAakvdyTJCC9JUR9Bzlm_ibGBoBP-6EATp0TMm31WgQxFnfUbhyphenhyphenB-gQ_t/s320/smart-woman.jpg" width="320" /></a>Are women getting smarter? Or are men just starting to appreciate what they bring to the table more? I ask this as the last couple of men I've been out with, their observation of me is that "you are so smart". One went so far to say that I was the "smartest woman that he knew".<br />
<br />
I pondered this for a moment as while I am highly educated, can carry on a conversation about a wide range of topics, have many life experiences (ah, the joy of being older) and consider myself smart, I am hardly a Rhodes Scholar. So what is this new phenomenon?<br />
<br />
Are my fellow women hiding their smartness thinking it will not be appreciated? <br />
<br />
I started to talk to my women friends about this, and it seems like there may be a issue on both sides; men who choose poorly and go for fluff versus substance . . .and women who put their substance on the shelf for their man so that they are more of what he wants.<br />
<br />
Women, it's time to embrace our smartness if you are not already doing so. Get involved, be engaged, stay current. Any guy who doesn't want you to be smart is a fool and not worthy of your smartness. And why would you want that guy anyway??<br />
<br />
I have a smart woman friend who dates a wide range of men. The interesting thing is that she sort of "morphs" into what ever that next man wants her to be. Sometimes when we go out, I can barely find the woman that I know in her. She is passive when I know she's not. Interested in things that I know she hates and even laughs at things that I know she doesn't think is funny. And my biggest challenge? She acts dumb on things that I know she knows about, just to appear interesting to her man!<br />
<br />
When I brought this to her attention, she denied it vehemently but I have seen it happen again and again. Why can't she just be herself? And what is so wrong about being smart?<br />
<br />
Young girls have had this issue with trying to impress boys for years. Many "girls only" schools use this phenomenon of girls acting less smart around boys to support why girls get better grades in single sex institutions as well.<br />
<br />
It's a crazy dance that we do to have people in our lives. But being smart should not be an option. And it should be appreciated by whoever you are with.<br />
<br />ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-53484012730983048052011-12-21T23:06:00.006-06:002011-12-22T08:41:05.111-06:00The Ultimatum<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXiNz5sftrSzW2_oJsLAk8k2q1tyrWLHjemq1Dt3LmpaTVn3WZTqbj0pI_hv_jh9HMKibkIfW_2W0JedTX5dv6wGid0H4ZWy2eF9lu4o911gs_vpJ8iDyr1y8zucLZlzf-irEc5vA4K6k6/s1600/arguing.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXiNz5sftrSzW2_oJsLAk8k2q1tyrWLHjemq1Dt3LmpaTVn3WZTqbj0pI_hv_jh9HMKibkIfW_2W0JedTX5dv6wGid0H4ZWy2eF9lu4o911gs_vpJ8iDyr1y8zucLZlzf-irEc5vA4K6k6/s320/arguing.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688822518162938338" /></a><br />I lost a friend today. He didn't die, move away, nor did I have a fight with him. No, he was presented with an ultimatum from his girlfriend that it was she or me. Crazy, eh? What is the matter with women that they are so insecure that they feel threatened by anyone who comes into contact with "their guy"? And what the heck is wrong with the guy that he gives in to this pressure and walks away from a long term friendship with a woman he has known for years?<br /><br />I will never know for I am not a jealous person. But as a woman with plenty of men friends, this scenario has played out over and over again over the years. So many times that I can almost always predict the end of my friendships with men . . .as the women they meet will often make them choose, me or them. And in some situations the men stand tall and don't deal with the manipulation, and in other cases they fold and say goodbye to me.<br /><br />The word ultimatum rolls off the tongue like a nice word. But it's not. It's ugly. It means a demand coupled with a threat. And the second definition is extortion. If you really love your partner, do you think threats, demands and extortion sound like the kind of relationship you want to be in? <br /><br />To you jealous women out there, take a step back and love yourselves. Your guy is already with you. He is with you for a reason and I highly doubt it is the jealous, possessive side of you that he loves, for that side is dark and nasty. But how can you be so insecure that you think someone your guy knew long before you came into the picture could be a threat? If this person and your guy were going to be together, don't you think they already would have? And if they had and found it didn't work, what makes you think that they would go back?? It's not even a logical argument . . then again this isn't about logic, is it? It's about emotions.<br /><br />As for those emotions, even if you get what you want with the ultimatum this time, what happens the next time and the time after that? Who wants to be in a relationship where everything is negotiated, where everything comes with a catch? Certainly not me. And maybe that is why I have so many men friends for I get them far better than my female counterparts, for the games that women play often make me want to run from my gender in shame.<br /><br />Emotions can be great. They fill our bodies with endorphins and make us happy and sad. They tangle up in our heads until some days we can't even figure out what is up or down. And having someone in your life requires compromise and love.<br /><br />But love doesn't come with ultimatums. It doesn't come with strings, rules, or manipulation. For love to be true, it needs to come with trust and respect. And if you have those, there is no need for anything else.ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-73528394840975522232011-12-18T21:06:00.006-06:002012-01-14T11:07:33.969-06:00The Treasure Hunter and the Neurosurgeon<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVqicdggsLRv0bcT5XEOKk2b0lQFlTFdvVQ3fKp3ot_8Sg1tRhnrEO_N2x8peaIxqLuUozyf1IVRFGXHSWRo7prQehLFr2LFJoQBFjmKScUUbZXFeGMwBRi_3TSr_VpauB4zcZwFR3tTIJ/s1600/treasure-hunters.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVqicdggsLRv0bcT5XEOKk2b0lQFlTFdvVQ3fKp3ot_8Sg1tRhnrEO_N2x8peaIxqLuUozyf1IVRFGXHSWRo7prQehLFr2LFJoQBFjmKScUUbZXFeGMwBRi_3TSr_VpauB4zcZwFR3tTIJ/s200/treasure-hunters.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697530923623599634" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT4nCxAyalteSEtNqwSuDxplbsiqIRdy5PvgTFtzdaFCAkrMtbA2FevCZ17WT_WOSnlMg4qSQbkc_FK75oShTtjgVQuTCRTZbG5sGo_7BRN38ATQWl03Hff5nUnTPm-SXtS8l58yjDKR5b/s1600/neuro.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT4nCxAyalteSEtNqwSuDxplbsiqIRdy5PvgTFtzdaFCAkrMtbA2FevCZ17WT_WOSnlMg4qSQbkc_FK75oShTtjgVQuTCRTZbG5sGo_7BRN38ATQWl03Hff5nUnTPm-SXtS8l58yjDKR5b/s200/neuro.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697530921788417682" /></a><br /><br />This is a story of the Treasure Hunter and the Neurosurgeon.<br /><br />I have a theory that people want to believe. It's why the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus work when we are young, and lottery tickets are our way out when we are not. And the stories that people spin are the things that make us laugh and sometimes make us cry. Lucky for me, this story has a little of both.<br /><br />So while many people, on a night out, upgrade their professions or life interests to be more interesting to others, a couple of friends of mine decided to build a new story line for themselves, eliminating the mundane and banal elements from their lives, and elevating their backgrounds to that of a neurosurgeon and the other, an adventurer who hunts treasure. And their stories interconnected, so it went, that the neurosurgeon funded the treasure hunter's adventures which gave them reason to be together.<br /><br />Could they pull it off, they wondered? After all- they were headed to an island in the Pacific where they knew no one and where the locals were not quick to engage with visitors. But would people believe them? And if they did, how would it affect the interactions with the people that they met?<br /><br />I watched the interplay of men and women with these two as they spun their yarns in countless bars and restaurants. The women's eyes would light up when "Doc" would talk about his steady hands or tell some "brain surgery" joke, you know the ones- where the husband asks the brain surgeon to do a little "tweak" while in his wife's head so that the wife would be the perfect "Stepford wife"? These women clearly thought that there might be a future payoff with this guy.<br /><br />Or the Treasure Hunter who had done enough research on "big dives" so he could talk about "diamonds and rubies as big as baseballs" and list some of the dives he had been on. This guy was so good at his tale, I actually began to believe that he had done all that he claimed. One man was so caught up in the tale, that he said he even recognized the storyteller from a piece on the Discovery Channel, which had us all rolling on the floor!<br /><br />But the sobering moment for all of us came when one night, a man came up and asked the "Doc" for some medical advice about his girlfriend. Seems she was having numbness in her chest and arm and wanted the "Doc" to give a diagnosis. There was a long pause and then we realized that this little "parlor game" was not so funny. People's lives could be in danger. Thank heaven that the "Doc" was quick on his feet and said he was on vacation but that this guy should get his girlfriend to the hospital for tests as soon as possible.<br /><br />A few days later, I reflected on the trust that people inherently have for each other. These people wanted my friends to be who they said there were. After all- what could be more exciting than a Treasure Hunter finding bounty at the bottom of the sea or a man who has saved countless lives? <br /><br />I was a bit surprised that people were so trusting- so willing to believe the tales spun, but why wouldn't they believe? For me it was a lesson. For once I got over the angst of the phoniness, it gave me pause to remember that people are usually good. We come into contact so often through the news media and other programming that showcase human kind for less than it can be, that I had forgotten what human kind CAN be.<br /><br />So like any good story, the tale of the Treasure Hunter and the Neurosurgeon has a moral. And it goes something like this . . . .Believe in people, and they will believe in you.<br /><br />I, for one, hope my friends leave their alter egos at home on our next foray out, for I love them both for who they really are. But if they don't, at least I know that there are always lessons to be learned. And hopefully, those lessons won't come with too high a price.ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-26858431408714658962011-11-06T10:12:00.000-06:002011-11-06T13:42:43.398-06:00Seat 28B<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkuR15bDisz76ZovY52vbwmCsY8p1u7MLJDZLvyk61gbWHPRKaueArLip0dG3sJ9SlAcp-NBgzjzhcDuiPBSEXWZ7YmSf_sCytCNVNaXfX9ttkmApbxV6OsdcVHfD7dRBQHgVwiy0HTu9L/s1600/plane-middle-seat.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkuR15bDisz76ZovY52vbwmCsY8p1u7MLJDZLvyk61gbWHPRKaueArLip0dG3sJ9SlAcp-NBgzjzhcDuiPBSEXWZ7YmSf_sCytCNVNaXfX9ttkmApbxV6OsdcVHfD7dRBQHgVwiy0HTu9L/s320/plane-middle-seat.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671915070072757122" /></a><br />I had to travel like a layman the other day. I had forgotten the smells, the sounds and the people who actually sit in the back of the planes that I travel on each week. For I am one of the "lucky ones". I have status with a certain airline . . . . .and with that status comes an aisle seat in the front of the plane with more leg room, flight attendants who actually recognize me on frequently traveled routes and the ability to get on the plane early so there is always room for my bag. And the other thing? Most of the people who sit in the front of the plane are "just like me", business people who have a place that they have to be and who use air travel like a bus to get to their next meeting.<br /><br />Not so much is the case in the back of the plane. Lest I sound like a "travel snob", I want to preface this that years ago when I first started traveling- I was always in the back. But it has been ages since I had a trip like this one and I realized that the segregation that exists in the world is also on a plane . . .it may not be a neighborhood or have a designation, but there are definitely boundaries that should not be crossed.<br /><br />Nestled between a pilot who was deadheading to LA, and a man who must have taken in a large amount of liquids before boarding the plan, I just knew that for the next four hours, I would have a glimpse of the "real world" as my friend calls it.<br /><br />As I sat for the duration of the flight with my knees pressed up against the seat in front of me, watching the countless people file by to the bathroom, putting bags that were far too large for the overhead bin over my head, being bumped and jostled when all I wanted to do was sleep, I was reminded that all of these people had somewhere to go, someone to see. So why were they so darn irritating? The people in the front of the plane have the same needs, yet it just seemed so much more obnoxious in the back , like there was less air to breathe and so much less room.<br /><br />Was it a personal bias that I held? A knowledge that those in the front of the plane knew how to travel and wouldn't try to bring all their worldly possessions on the plane? A resentment that my normal carrier had re booked me on an airline that would get me to my destination but that the experience would suffer? Or had I just become that "travel snob" that my friend purports me to be?<br /><br />I shifted slightly in my seat to push the sleeping pilot off of my shoulder and pondered this for a moment. And in that instant, the clarity of the situation came to me. For those of us who have to travel for their jobs, a little preferential treatment is not wrong. After all, it is the full priced, refundable ticketed, business traveler who keeps many of these airlines in the air. And if they give us a few perks along the way, so be it, as we all know there is nothing glamorous about traveling for work today.<br /><br />I poked the sleeping pilot to wake him up as the man in the window seat needed to get up for the third time during this trip. And as his eyes focused on me, I saw the same irritation, the same resentment in his eyes that I felt. And then in a flash it was gone. For he knew, just as I did, that the "back of the plane" while never an enviable position, carries people who deserve the same consideration as those in the front, no matter how much their "travel savvy" was lacking.<br /><br />It was a long trip. But one that made me appreciate what I have just that much more.ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-23872745546827479772011-10-23T20:02:00.000-05:002011-10-23T20:02:43.894-05:00Fool me once . . . . . .<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIMzrAE2BCcYMJ12mcZ_Ra1hfGzIUJ8ywaCKJFelSPX77nLTA8c1vLUsCKs6nRwBKEttcMefMaxpvSWZWXmQk67LXHn0sJxJ_wO8jlBxyWMNH0Mw1qgxsqwlG7nVjfPwMVfbAyRrKXW2c/s1600/two-women.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 282px; height: 282px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIMzrAE2BCcYMJ12mcZ_Ra1hfGzIUJ8ywaCKJFelSPX77nLTA8c1vLUsCKs6nRwBKEttcMefMaxpvSWZWXmQk67LXHn0sJxJ_wO8jlBxyWMNH0Mw1qgxsqwlG7nVjfPwMVfbAyRrKXW2c/s320/two-women.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666856443162624482" /></a><br />A woman I had once helped to get a job, came up to me in a bar the other night, throwing her arms around me like a long lost friend. <br /><br />Not out of the ordinary, right? As I pulled myself away from her, I wondered how I was going to handle the situation. This woman had put me in a vulnerable position by betraying my trust and stealing from the company that I helped to get her employment with, and in doing so raised credibility questions about me. And while 4 years had passed, I was no less angry with her than I had been at the time of the incident.<br /><br />I am all for helping people if I can. I had met this woman through a mutual friend, and since she was just getting out of school, she needed an entry level position in marketing. She was smart, ambitious and and seemed like the kind of person any organization would be happy to have on their team. Through my network, I was able to get her placed in a entry level position with full benefits and endless possibilities. And that's when the trouble began.<br /><br />I got a call from my contact with allegations that this woman was charging personal items to her company credit card. A fast way to end employment with any company. I asked if she had been warned (after all- this was her first position, maybe she just didn't know what the protocol was, I naively thought) and she had. So I thought the matter was over. This was not a stupid woman. Surely she would stop.<br /><br />And then the next month, the same thing happened. My friend didn't want to fire her without letting me know, so I got a call I never thought I'd get. A person I had recommended for a position was dishonest in her business practices. And then I got an even more unexpected call- from the woman I had placed telling me all it was a big misunderstanding and asking if I could help her get another job. Really? She wanted my help again? I couldn't decide if she was stupid or just plain ballsy. But I didn't return her countless calls and emails to find out. I subscribe to the old adage of "Fool me once . . . ."<br /><br />Misunderstanding or not- to lose your job over stealing from a company is pure stupidity. And not only did it affect her job- it could have indirectly affected mine as well, as I was the person who recommended her for the position. I was disappointed that I had been so duped, angry that she thought she could once again come to me for help, and for a brief moment mad at myself for sticking my neck out to help someone. <br /><br />In that moment, I was reminded why so many people don't help others as "no good deed goes unpunished" or so the saying goes; why people scurry by with their heads down, when folks in need ask for something; why just doing what you have to do is better than doing what you should do. There's no risk involved in any of those scenarios.<br /><br />But as I extracted myself from this woman the other night, I was reminded once again about how it feels to help others. And while standing in front of me was an example of why not to help people, dozens of images of people I have helped and who have prospered through the years ran through my mind like an old silent film.<br /><br />I stood up and left the bar. But not without a backward glance at this woman who reminded me that there are takers and givers out there in the world. I'm just happy to be on the giving side.<strike><strike></strike></strike>ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-90924771094807354232011-10-21T07:41:00.000-05:002011-10-21T07:57:30.915-05:00Hot? Or not?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOc99zxCEamCJD6OBCJ03dUDyxtHMP9dy1jDUVBWqNMx6p5vrFrpy0MFxwYi0sfsVkworwIHDi2hJWlou85eUt66akjeSzhheZ1b3JvSBDYFPhAHIezooGj5OJBoK_3-CsGvIm9Kc4J1zh/s1600/hot+or+not.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOc99zxCEamCJD6OBCJ03dUDyxtHMP9dy1jDUVBWqNMx6p5vrFrpy0MFxwYi0sfsVkworwIHDi2hJWlou85eUt66akjeSzhheZ1b3JvSBDYFPhAHIezooGj5OJBoK_3-CsGvIm9Kc4J1zh/s320/hot+or+not.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665321532224278962" /></a><br />I had a flash back to 7th grade recently. You remember those days when a boy poked you and then told you, "you're not a fox"? I remember looking down at one such boy (literally as all boys were shorter than me back then),and wondering just what prompted this mean behavior toward me? After all- did this kid think that he was all that with his skinny chest, short legs and braces?<br /><br />Well fast forward almost 40 years to a man I know telling me I wasn't his type as I wasn't "hot". "Hot"? Really? A middle aged man who was still using the lines from 7th grade only "hot" is now the new "fox"? The absurdity of it all struck me.<br /><br />And then I wondered, do some boys ever really grow up?<br /><br />When do they learn to appreciate what women bring to the table beyond looks? Can they appreciate anything other than the superficial or for some- is that "hot woman" the badge of honor that they need to feel fulfilled; to be the man that other men envy.<br /><br />I'm reminded of a woman that worked for me once whose "husband to be" made her sign a pre nup that she would never gain more than 10 pounds during their marriage or he would divorce her. "You signed it?" I asked, incredulous that any woman would sign such a thing. "If you signed that- did you ask him to sign one that said if he went bald you'd do the same?" I mean really- what's the difference?<br /><br />Well, it turns out she signed it but asked for nothing in return. And when she couldn't drop the weight she gained having HIS baby, he divorced her. Hard to write, but harder to watch her raise that kid on her own because she was 20 pounds heavier than her wedding weight. Nice guy, eh?<br /><br />I am fascinated by this "hot" concept for I know my value, although "hot" isn't a word I would use to describe me. I know I am smart, highly accomplished and have a huge network of friends and acquaintances. I give back to the community through volunteer work, I help prepare young people for the future, I help those in need, am funny and engaging at a cocktail party, and am a woman many men vie to be with because I am all of those things and more. But "hot"? Is that still the ruler that I get judged by all these years later?<br /><br />Disappointment set in for all of a millisecond that a man I knew could say such a thing to me. <br /><br />And then my brain kicked back into being and I instantly realized the problem. If "hot" was the only ruler that this guy used, he was measuring the wrong woman. For I don't need a man to define me, let alone by my looks. <br /><br />As for "hot"? You bet I'm "hot". And in all the ways that matter most.<br /><br /><br />ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-38585673128416414162011-10-09T10:49:00.000-05:002011-10-09T11:28:58.500-05:00The Pilgrimage<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKxlg1Bry5RCBfhZy-b1YyXUhHpKv0ri9YIfs-_0__1e14jRqQJZRYw4mfTp9lf4r3hyphenhyphenx7Fz2EoCuL_eE5PHVQREvT_NwLHNsZUdft86AuTTAoUCkIVL8FK2AbVutMNJ1x3lDxdbZD0tUL/s1600/trail+2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKxlg1Bry5RCBfhZy-b1YyXUhHpKv0ri9YIfs-_0__1e14jRqQJZRYw4mfTp9lf4r3hyphenhyphenx7Fz2EoCuL_eE5PHVQREvT_NwLHNsZUdft86AuTTAoUCkIVL8FK2AbVutMNJ1x3lDxdbZD0tUL/s320/trail+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661528662372859890" /></a><br />There's a new movie out starring Martin Sheen that I saw the other night called "The Way". I probably wouldn't have even gone to see it had I not just been in the Basque Country of France and Spain and spent a few hours of my own hiking along this path.<br /><br />Called El Camino de Santiago, this trek can start anywhere but usually originates in St. Jean Pied de Port and always culminates at the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, purported to be the place that St. James was interred. While people come to walk "The Way" for a variety of reasons, many say they want "a spiritual adventure to remove themselves from the bustle of modern life"<br /><br />Well let me tell you, removing yourself from everyday life is not hard on this path. I, for one, had misread the day's itinerary and thought we were going to a vineyard to sample wine. So I was dressed to sip wine and not hike along a stone path that was pretty much out in the middle of nowhere. Imagine my surprise when we began to hike with others dressed in hiking boots, and carrying backpacks with all of their worldly possessions and carrying walking sticks!<br /><br />We started our journey at one of the hostels that the "pilgrims" stay at during their walk. A quick coffee later and we were on our way. After the first 7 kilometers, I was quite convinced that being a Pilgrim was never going to be my thing. After all- I was still looking for that darn vineyard.<br /><br />As we came into the second town, another 7 or so kilometers down the path (I use that term loosely for it was merely a collection of 4 or 5 buildings but at least one of them was a tavern where I could get a cold beer)I was busy taking off the various layers I had worn, as the sun had come up and it was quite warm. And then back on the path we went.<br /><br />About this time, I wasn't the person that you wanted to be walking down this path with. Instead of finding the "inner peace" that so many found on this path, I was beginning to grumble and wonder out loud where the darn vineyard was. It was at this point that I looked around and realized the group I had been with had dispersed leaving me to meditate on this on my own.<br /><br />And just when I was wondering if I could call a taxi somehow to pick me up in the next "town", an Australian man sidled up beside me. "Hey Mate!", he said in that oh so Australian way. ""Are you walking the entire way?"<br /><br />"The entire way?", asked I, thinking that this guy had to be blind as I had no back pack, shoes that were better served for sipping wine than hiking and an outfit that was beginning to fade in the mid day heat. "How long will that take?", questioned the naive me.<br /><br />"Oh you can do it in about 5 weeks", said he as he pulled aside a branch for me to step over.<br /><br />Five weeks? Out here on this path? Egads! I looked over at him with his cheery face and his oblivion to my plight and answered a definitive, "No. I am just walking to the next town".<br /><br />"Too bad", said he. "You meet the most interesting people out here." <br /><br />And with that he was gone. And I was once again alone on the path to contemplate my life, my poor choice of shoes, and where there might just be a vineyard out here in the middle of the Pyrenees.ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-64003132347578066912011-10-08T10:54:00.000-05:002011-10-08T10:54:22.652-05:00Paying it Forward<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrTpx3z73hv8BgBduXxYb4DAUgb05uD_rdjglY1Qv3xbjWWEKtGCo8xQxO7ngBdH2cSQnjtwR29O7B620hd4KcXjsex4H3gzRTyR7kEiEREU7skYy6OUcshQPAz0kSkYnh0Z6bKKTZY4DL/s1600/intern.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrTpx3z73hv8BgBduXxYb4DAUgb05uD_rdjglY1Qv3xbjWWEKtGCo8xQxO7ngBdH2cSQnjtwR29O7B620hd4KcXjsex4H3gzRTyR7kEiEREU7skYy6OUcshQPAz0kSkYnh0Z6bKKTZY4DL/s320/intern.jpg" /></a></div>
A young man started his first job today. Remarkable? Probably not. But because I got to play a role in his future I am reminded over and over again how sometimes the smallest gestures have the biggest reward. <br /><br />I was never a mother. I was never a teacher. I was never a drill Sargent. Yet every Summer I get to be all three as I host my company's new class of college interns that invade my office. As I tell them on that first day, "this is the hardest job you'll ever love". And love it they do.<br /><br />Over the years I have had probably 60 young people pass through my "boot camp". I laugh and tell my friends that "they come in boys and leave men". But all kidding aside, the change in these young people who take the job to heart is remarkable.<br /><br />This Summer, I had a special intern, a son of a friend of mine who had somehow gotten through 4 years of college without any practical experience. And as I walked into the conference room on that first day for the interview, my assistant walked by and said, "Be gentle. I think he's going to throw up".<br /><br />As I closed the door behind me, I turned and saw a young man, the spitting image of his dad but without any of the confidence that his dad possessed. His suit was new, his shirt and tie were scratching his neck and his eyes were searching the room like a wild animal looking for a way out.<br /><br />But yet there was something there, deep inside, that led me to hire him for the Summer. And it turns out that within this kid was a kind soul, a smart mind and the willingness to do whatever it was going to take to be successful. He not only did the work that was assigned to him, but he also sat through grueling "practice interview" sessions with me critiquing him at every step of the way . . ."Eye contact, stop wiggling, give me your elevator speech" I said, in my best drill Sargent voice.<br /><br />And all of his practice paid off, for at the end of the Summer, through some networking, he was able to secure employement at one of the top advertising agencies in Chicago, in one of the worst economies.<br /><br />In the advertising business, we all pay our dues, starting at the bottom rung of the ladder and doing whatever it takes to move up. But every once in awhile, we get a chance to "pay it forward" and give someone a "leg up". Someone took a chance on me over 30 years ago and put me in a job that I was not qualified for, but saw my future potential. Today I get to sit in that chair and help the next generation of marketers get into this business that I love.<br /><br />Remember that kid of my friend? I think he said it best in his thank you letter to me. He wrote,"I don't know how I can ever repay you for what you have done, but I will start by making the absolute most of my future that you helped to craft". And helping to craft a young person's future is a legacy I am proud to leave behind.<br /><br />Imagine the world we would live in if everyone "paid it forward". It would be a better place.ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-89765990662915253562011-06-17T19:18:00.000-05:002011-06-17T20:11:25.628-05:00Communication Failure?<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0VBrtR7QGNgmjNRZwBaqYrZFFNVupWgBh9Udxw4fCZrbpC-6vh1c4CIC9HmbA_O52wfBR9Fvn0H3BXRr7amSzYI-bBqfsjq7Um3vfhbg6ey5gY4d0-H7nao2L_FerznjNzeDlAg4Cxm-_/s1600/CursivePractice.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 200px; height: 127px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619358581099841538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0VBrtR7QGNgmjNRZwBaqYrZFFNVupWgBh9Udxw4fCZrbpC-6vh1c4CIC9HmbA_O52wfBR9Fvn0H3BXRr7amSzYI-bBqfsjq7Um3vfhbg6ey5gY4d0-H7nao2L_FerznjNzeDlAg4Cxm-_/s200/CursivePractice.jpg" /></a><br /><div>There was a story on the news the other night about an educator down in Florida who felt that cursive handwriting had outlived it's usefulness and so they were no longer going to teach it in that school given kids need to learn to type and text more. Thank heaven saner minds prevailed and cursive continues to be taught, but it got me thinking to the type of communication we have today. Sure, it's faster. But is it better?</div><div><br />Case in point. Most electronic devices today have an "auto finisher" option that will finish typing a word for you, saving you time. But when that auto finisher inserts the wrong word, the resultant message, while oftentimes funny, totally misses the point and causes the receiver to furrow their brow in bewilderment wondering just what the original message was supposed to be.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div><br />Or how about all the acronyms and just plain parts of words that are to save again on having to type it all- but that may be lost to the end user. I get there there may only be 160 characters to say all that you've got to say, but really! When you get a message like, "R U F2T?" (are you free to talk for those of you text challenged out there) my response is always a resounding "Yes" for at least by talking, I won't have to think so hard about what the sender is really trying to say.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div><br />Now that's not to say I don't enjoy the brevity of today's communication, but is is a bit of a misnomer to think we are communicating with those right in front of us. Now instead of going out to catch up with friends- we still get together, but invariably are all on the phone texting others rather than connecting with those around us. Look around. If you are in a public place, I'll bet that most people around you are not looking at the world around them, but at the world, their world, that exists is that small phone device in their hand.</div><div> </div><div><br />I wonder what face to face communication will look like in the future? Will the term "John Hancock" at some point really only refer to the man and not the signature that many people reference when people say, "we need your John Hancock on this". Will cursive writing really go the way of the buggy whip? And are we ready to let machines finish our communication for us, guessing on the word that we may want to use just because we have used it so many times before?</div><div> </div><div><br />For this writer, I hope the answers to all of these questions are no. While I love the convenience and brevity of today's communication, I love more the English language and the vast array of words that are available to us. Sure, some of the words have more letters that you may want to use in a text, some words will never come up in an "auto finish" option, and some things just can't be said with an acronym. But some thoughts are more important, more necessary than simple words warrant. And that's the beauty of the written word, and ALL the letters they contain.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div></div><br />ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-14362237258119883902011-02-13T19:28:00.000-06:002011-09-30T16:15:06.857-05:00In Love for 4 days<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt_UGjSSNbuxS0I06bltcStMlQurNpGJ9pTycPlivGdV1tT1k4z1m32K5M3btcZedp7SbHEeA3_qxjIwpiCg8TzdYGfSToSL-N9bNtvs_4zSJTb-iOtOABjsY3srjEtiHnl4CGY8x1nT6w/s1600/couple+on+beach.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 210px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt_UGjSSNbuxS0I06bltcStMlQurNpGJ9pTycPlivGdV1tT1k4z1m32K5M3btcZedp7SbHEeA3_qxjIwpiCg8TzdYGfSToSL-N9bNtvs_4zSJTb-iOtOABjsY3srjEtiHnl4CGY8x1nT6w/s320/couple+on+beach.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658263109650714722" /></a><br />Can you feign love? A friend of mine decided to put it to the test. She went away with a man she had been casually dating on his promise that her 4 day "Getaway" could be as romantic as ever, in fact he called it "In love for four days", but once they returned it was "back to normal" in terms of their relationship. Back to normal?, she thought. What would that look like after living as a couple for a long weekend?<br /><br />People put parameters on so many things in their lives. To work out, or not. To buy something for looks or functionality. To put their "Game face" on or to show emotion. All in an effort to do what? Keep true emotions at bay? And are we better for feigning true emotion or is it a protective measure to protect ourselves from being hurt?<br /><br />So the long weekend happened. According to her they had an amazing time. They slept late, laughed over beers at a local watering hole, walked holding hands along the beach, ate late dinners over candlelight and made love in front of a crackling fire overlooking the ocean. Anyone who saw them certainly would have thought that there was a relationship; a history between these two. Casual friends? Doubtful.<br /><br />Yet when they returned from their trip, while she was re thinking the casualness of their relationship as she was sure his feelings had changed, he was back to "normal", sticking staunchly to the idea that they were just "friends" and that no connection, nothing meaningful had transpired. <br /><br />What is it that makes men and women process the same information in a different way? Could she have mis read the signals so dramatically, or did she really not believe him when he said that the trip would change nothing between them? And how could he be so solicitous, so caring for those 4 days going through all the motions but meaning none of them? <br /><br />Feigning love or any emotion puts those involved in the relationship at risk. Feelings get hurt, hearts get broken and all those painful childhood crush insecurities redevelop.<br /><br />But for this ConnectedGirl- for those 4 days my friend was happy, happier than I had seen her in a long time. So is there a value in short term happiness at any price? Or was the price in this case too high a price to pay?ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-89702905401112302212010-09-26T16:09:00.000-05:002010-09-26T16:41:50.731-05:00Don't look now!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDzvWnlBXnj4sURUdUh4lhU4QzyBBqnvRnkaIxDG-PBNCudkYoED9ueIYmvYscNQWNKetkPxxGHZfXDpa1WOz0u2nGFEqNVVQKX2jnskf1R2LTWE9Mf2kO_hETmtSoyIn2VJAXu2iY02xO/s1600/embarrass.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 173px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDzvWnlBXnj4sURUdUh4lhU4QzyBBqnvRnkaIxDG-PBNCudkYoED9ueIYmvYscNQWNKetkPxxGHZfXDpa1WOz0u2nGFEqNVVQKX2jnskf1R2LTWE9Mf2kO_hETmtSoyIn2VJAXu2iY02xO/s200/embarrass.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521340258841241378" /></a><br /><br />My friend stood up in a bar the other night and because of a "shoe failure" slipped and fell down. She was horribly embarrassed and kept apologizing and saying she wasn't drunk. We didn't think she was.<br /><br />Another friend,on another night, almost got us kicked out of a bar for making a scene over a sports score that didn't go the way he wanted it to go. He apologized later and said how embarrassed he was for his behavior. I had never given it another thought.<br /><br />And yet another friend walked out of a restroom with her skirt tucked into the back of her underwear. Red faced and almost in tears, she, too, said how embarrassed she was. We all laughed.<br /><br />Three separate incidents. But one word to describe them all. Embarrassment. It's kind of a funny word.<br /><br />My friend who almost got us kicked out of that sports bar, has an observation on it. He feels that if no one sees it- there is no embarrassment. True? For if you slip in your own home, yell at your own TV or have a clothing malfunction in your closet, who's the wiser?<br /><br />I think on this one, I have to agree. After all- I can be angry with myself for doing something stupid when alone- but embarrassment? Not so much. That embarrassing feeling only happens when you look up and know that someone saw the stupid move, heard the mispronounced turn of phrase, or participated in the awkward situation. <br /><br />So the next time you see me- don't watch too closely. For I'd hate for my actions to cause me embarrassment. And that can only happen when you are looking!ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-48321170466282182852010-09-06T16:18:00.000-05:002010-09-06T16:57:58.122-05:00Relationships<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaD7QPlzu0goy_oYZ-ryA87bYIPKkjnmeiazYoduCM6Pza_Nr6A4wXLC63u1IfggHL6HnSuFN9aydHqcRWy7WeIcJ_U5j81R_zfnbi4lLrJCru47QgpTN-dq3RccFSYoPtV6kfMs_NBgYu/s1600/man-and-woman.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaD7QPlzu0goy_oYZ-ryA87bYIPKkjnmeiazYoduCM6Pza_Nr6A4wXLC63u1IfggHL6HnSuFN9aydHqcRWy7WeIcJ_U5j81R_zfnbi4lLrJCru47QgpTN-dq3RccFSYoPtV6kfMs_NBgYu/s200/man-and-woman.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513921632137056338" /></a><br />I am always fascinated when people tell me they don't want to be in a relationship. "Hmm", I think. "Isn't every interaction we have with someone, some type of a relationship? And isn't the fact that we are even having a mere conversation suggest some type of relationship, now matter how minimal?"<br /><br />Maybe it's the type of relationship that they are pushing back on. After all- there are many kinds of relationships -romantic, friendly, adversarial, casual, etc., the list goes on and on.<br /><br />So how do you clarify when someone says they don't want a relationship what they really want?<br /><br />A friend of mine had been seeing a man for about 3 months when he told her he didn't want a relationship. Yet he didn't stop calling or seeing her. In fact, nothing really changed in their lives at all, that she could see. She was stymied about this until she finally asked him what was the purpose of the "big speech" that he had made about relationships.<br /><br />"Well", he said. "I love being with you. I just don't want a relationship".<br /><br />"What do you think we have?", said she, exasperated to the point of directness.<br /><br />"What do you mean?" replied he. "This isn't a relationship. It's just us."<br /><br />And so it goes. Will we ever know what a true relationship is? And how special all the different types of relationships are that we have? Our lives are fuller and richer for those people who pass through them over the course of time and for those that stay for the long haul. Be they friends, lovers, teachers or even adversaries, we learn and grow from every type of relationship that we have.<br /><br />I personally value all the different types of relationships in my life. They make up the mosaic that is me. When people tell me I have a good life, I always laugh. For my life is not so much a entity unto itself- but more a weave of people who I am in relationships with and for whom I am forever grateful. For this journey called life that we are on, is always better when there are others along for the ride. Here's to relationships and all the smiles, tears, heartache, confusion, humbleness and laughter that comes along with them!ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-85146702570774731182010-08-13T08:51:00.000-05:002010-08-13T09:25:33.147-05:00Inequitable Power<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCnk_MNmcme-LfR3AVJayCFi4bvUbr4nBUqIbTYYmRtOOEsIugzs9qdi_4Jp4BXOeOCwfcFZsgL9mnib96GcQ7MN9GYwaHvfezs7zxb_U_28J6IfBDisqmTh3C7t8TUKiyrZdDuO5s30Vu/s1600/apower1.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCnk_MNmcme-LfR3AVJayCFi4bvUbr4nBUqIbTYYmRtOOEsIugzs9qdi_4Jp4BXOeOCwfcFZsgL9mnib96GcQ7MN9GYwaHvfezs7zxb_U_28J6IfBDisqmTh3C7t8TUKiyrZdDuO5s30Vu/s320/apower1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504900380579237394" /></a><br /><br />They say the person in a relationship who cares the least has all the power. True?<br /><br />And can you always tell where that power is or does is shift and move throughout the course of a relationship? And does it hold true for any relationship, business or personal?<br /><br />After all, I watch my girlfriends pine away that men they really like don't call when they say they are going to. And then when they do finally call- my friends drop whatever plans they have to be with these men. Power score? Men, one. My friends? Zero.<br /><br />Or how about the business relationship where one person owes another something by a deadline and that deadline is missed? Power Score? Ower, one. Owee? Zero.<br /><br />Or how about the popular kids in high school who seemingly have all the power as everyone wants to be like them to hang with them. You would do anything to be in that "in" crowd, right? Power Score? Cool kids, one. Geeks? Zero.<br /><br />While we were taught in business school to get to the "win win", and that are no "losers", we all know that day in and day out, this is just not the case. Life is about winning and losing. I guess I just hope in the final tally that my wins off set my losses. It's the competitive part of me.<br /><br />But the question that plagues me is does there always have to be a winner? And what does it say about you as a person- if for one moment, one day, one relationship, you walk away from your pride,your arrogance, your ego, and you succumb to the fact that you care more than the other person. <br /><br />Imagine the world we would live in. Just think of how powerful that would be.ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-42160381141344865822010-07-26T10:04:00.001-05:002010-07-26T10:33:38.958-05:00Just a Kid again<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5rO0Xzs3bK0HBnxvdVjOi2e_fGs0gGuEtvYXeTcbqgp06_N125tTHF7jNCd2LiAM5abFOSyUffn1cWaLQIVwXqWW0Qlb5gu5Qtlr1nZ6_4qpmAcuLMmrQSaZ4Nd9maB1u7aLyrjsWjY03/s1600/kids-running_300.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 269px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5rO0Xzs3bK0HBnxvdVjOi2e_fGs0gGuEtvYXeTcbqgp06_N125tTHF7jNCd2LiAM5abFOSyUffn1cWaLQIVwXqWW0Qlb5gu5Qtlr1nZ6_4qpmAcuLMmrQSaZ4Nd9maB1u7aLyrjsWjY03/s320/kids-running_300.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498237294337261378" /></a><br />I got to be a kid again yesterday. . . . .if only for a little while. I threw away the trappings of my so called "life" and reveled in what only kids get to do . . .be carefree and curious. And while we may all want to do that every day- rarely do we get the opportunity.<br /><br />Yesterday was different. When the adult activity was just too boring for the beautiful day that it was, I set off on an adventure of my own. An adventure of exploration. <br /><br />As a kid I used to love to run through the empty fields by my house. I would pretend to be an explorer, would play house in abandoned sheds or find tree houses built by kids who had grown up and moved on. <br /><br />While there were no abandoned sheds or tree houses- there were paths through the woods leading to a lake, to muddy vistas, to savannas full of butterfly bushes, raspberry vines, chickweed, sumac and other remembrances of my childhood.<br /><br />My friend who went with me- forged a path through the fields, and sometimes, we lost sight of each other so high was the foliage. We happened upon children fishing, dogs frolicking in the water, and any number of birds singing on this beautiful day.It flashed me back to being that kid with mosquito bitten legs chasing after my friends all those many years ago.<br /><br />When I returned home- I had a smile on my face and I didn't know why until this very moment. I got to be a kid again. A curious, adventurous, don't worry about the mud on my shoes, caution to the wind, kid. <br /><br />Where do we lose that adventurous spirit along the way? Are we so caught up in being an adult that we forget the fun things in life? Does experience teach us that there are too many dangers around that next path, that next turn, and that it's easier to sit back and watch life go by?<br /><br />I don't know the answers. But I do know for just a minute, I was a kid again. And that was the greatest feeling in the world!ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-40402860928814656162010-07-24T20:23:00.000-05:002010-07-24T21:01:24.503-05:00The Age Old Debate<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVvLHPRwb6r6cK_F4C1xY0HoJ0Lih8Qdo__zINpYigwt1ryGK21rmegAafkPOkBUJgkwWfXeIBFnGpOnQkt6L8Hlxj3Y6Nrw4VHWBwmo7VmCnRpz70drOSVAZ8zK1x2NKuJ2f1xBOo0kxL/s1600/early-bird-owl.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 114px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVvLHPRwb6r6cK_F4C1xY0HoJ0Lih8Qdo__zINpYigwt1ryGK21rmegAafkPOkBUJgkwWfXeIBFnGpOnQkt6L8Hlxj3Y6Nrw4VHWBwmo7VmCnRpz70drOSVAZ8zK1x2NKuJ2f1xBOo0kxL/s320/early-bird-owl.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497656367216378466" /></a><br /><br />You know, there might be one difference that even the best of us cannot solve for in a relationship. We tackle the easy things like what side of the bed do you like to sleep on (for me- it's always the left), which way the toilet paper should hang (I'm an over girl)and whether you put water on your toothbrush before or after you add the toothpaste (I'm a little of each). But the one difference that seems insurmountable time and time again is the issue of a morning person versus a night person.<br /><br />Now try as I might- I will never be a morning person. I swear I'm nocturnal. I do my best thinking after noon and have no problems staying up til the wee hours with boundless energy.<br /><br />Yet relationship after relationship, I find myself with guys at the other end of the sleep spectrum. These beings are like foreigners to me, springing out of bed at crack of dawn (no- I am sure that some times it is not even dawn when they leap up).<br /><br />I groan and roll over and am not heard of for at least a few more hours. Yet during the time I am at my best,in the dead of night, where are these morning creatures? Fading fast, and all but dead to the world. It is like their light has been shut off.<br /><br />So I decided to try an experiment. Could I, the habitual nocturnal soul TURN into a morning person? I decided to give it a try for a month.<br /><br />I set my alarm for 5am. The first day, in my stunned, disoriented state, I poured juice on my cereal and put milk in the coffee maker. Not a good start. And as the days wore on, I was tired. By 8pm- I was ready for bed. This little experiment was seriously cutting into my night life. Cripes! Under my usual schedule, I wasn't even thinking about where to eat until 8. And now each day I couldn't wait to hit the hay.<br /><br />They say that once your body gets used to something it will do it on it's own. Well let me tell you- 5am wake ups are never going to be the norm for this girl. <br /><br />With that effort as an abysmal failure, I asked the man in my life ,at the time, to do a similar experiment only in reverse. He needed to sleep in more and stay up later for one month. <br /><br />Seriously, he just couldn't sleep in. He'd lay there in the morning, trying to make me happy, staring up at the ceiling, breathing in that way that only men do, just itching for me to wake up so he could get up. And at night? We'd go out to enjoy a dinner and I would always end up driving home as his eyes were closing and head bobbing before we even left the restaurant. He begged to be let out of the experiment long before the month was over.<br /><br />So I posit that we are what we are. Creatures of the day or creatures of the night, living our best on one side or the other. How about you? Which side do you fall on? And while you're at it . . .how is your toilet paper on the roll?ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-70067456496000244912010-07-09T21:03:00.000-05:002010-07-09T22:29:03.467-05:00The Best Laid Plans<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh85x56kEjd7Ucd_CCzrtfyK1Yv-uwthXyHm7hZqHpV3KcJcHAXoVj8t7Eh2rbaVL5MgQTeg8Y0p3-tioi6CB47yYHleIHx4tpDfQxCnC9RYB1QqhZCkLOTwixkvhxBHdwyMADfpcGPVKvP/s1600/a+gator.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 117px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh85x56kEjd7Ucd_CCzrtfyK1Yv-uwthXyHm7hZqHpV3KcJcHAXoVj8t7Eh2rbaVL5MgQTeg8Y0p3-tioi6CB47yYHleIHx4tpDfQxCnC9RYB1QqhZCkLOTwixkvhxBHdwyMADfpcGPVKvP/s200/a+gator.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492105666606728770" /></a><br />Are you one of those people where things you plan, never turn out quite the way you imagined them? Well, I am. <br /><br />Take for example a simple canoe trip I planned down the Hillsborough River in Tampa. My friend told me how beautiful it was and since I love the tranquility of canoeing, I reserved a canoe.<br /><br />As I pulled up to the ramshackle lean to that housed the canoe rental place, I was reminded of the canoe trips I used to take back when I was a student and I couldn't wait until I was on the water again, paddling downstream.<br /><br />On the other hand, my canoeing partner was there only because I asked him to be. He didn't care for the water, hated the outdoors, and if the truth be told, couldn't swim.<br /><br />"No problem", said the canoe guy who was shoving us into the water in the middle of a swamp. "You're going to want to stay in the canoe anyway."<br /><br />"Why's that?", I asked naively.<br /><br />"It's alligator mating season, ma'am. Gators are everywhere. Shouldn't be a problem if you stay in your canoe", said he.<br /><br />Stay in my canoe. Stay in my canoe. It was like a mantra as we floated down the river. Hard to relax when at every turn, there were alligators sunning themselves on logs, laying in the shallows and swimming in the river. They looked a bit like tires in the water as all you could see were their eyes as they paddled silently.<br /><br />Now for this Chicago girl, being this close up to alligators that weren't in a cage, seemed a bit insane. After all, this was no Disney ride where if something went wrong, a man in a park ranger uniform was going to be there to "stop the ride" and let you get off. Nope. This was real life. A 3 hour survival course and we were soon to be put to the test.<br /><br />Around the next corner was a submerged log and within minutes we were somehow stuck on top of it. On the shore around us, alligators were sunning themselves but keeping one eye on us as well. Funny that there were no other canoers on this day. Maybe they knew something we didn't.<br /><br />My canoeing partner thought the best way to get off the log was to rock the canoe. A word of advice? That is never the right thing to do and within a nano second we were in the water eyeball to eyeball with the alligators.<br /><br />My biggest issue wasn't my fear of losing a limb (although it was right up there)- no it was that my friend had fallen out of the canoe, and had sunk to the bottom of the river like a stone. In seconds, he came up from the bottom shrieking like a baby and then sank again and I was trying to calm down the situation lest the alligators thought there was something (or someone as the case may be) in distress and come over to investigate.<br /><br />Let's stop here to review. We are 20 minutes into a 3 hour canoe trip, have lost all of our belongings (including the canoe and almost my friend) in the river and alligators are everywhere. I kept wondering where was the fun in all of this?<br /><br />And it wasn't until we beached our canoe at the end of the trip (yes we were able to get the canoe, empty it of water, and start anew all without adverse alligator intervention) and stumbled toward the canoe rental guy that I realized the absurdity of it all.<br /><br />He took one look at us and said, "Go into the water, did ya?"<br /><br />I caught a glimpse of myself in his sunglasses- makeup streaked all over my face, sunburned arms (we lost the sunscreen in the river), hair sticking up all over, river dirt on my legs and I started to laugh.<br /><br />"Yeah. We went into the water." <br /><br />But what he didn't know, was that I was thinking about the more important thing. The thing that had me laughing in relief. The thing I still think about today, every time I step into a canoe.<br /><br />What is that, you ask? Simple. It wasn't that we went into the water. No. It was that we came out of the water. Now that was the big thing of the day!ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-27918675056751912532010-07-03T19:19:00.000-05:002010-07-04T12:19:07.856-05:00You had me at hello . . .<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLtoKaD5Li8lzWKhwii0_E0IN13x-U5WoiE0oA9QbV6OvyLaikIFgiwtpSeQU_PoRvGj37Z-ySVgxUSc88-b-a5Bpbp-8da3W8tmk1YmN_v0Akrp6kpGbi3kdAi8KtcjAeCNLBGmI-ZSJl/s1600/a+kiss.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLtoKaD5Li8lzWKhwii0_E0IN13x-U5WoiE0oA9QbV6OvyLaikIFgiwtpSeQU_PoRvGj37Z-ySVgxUSc88-b-a5Bpbp-8da3W8tmk1YmN_v0Akrp6kpGbi3kdAi8KtcjAeCNLBGmI-ZSJl/s200/a+kiss.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489852907749403746" /></a><br />Have you ever thought about all the time we've spent in our lives kissing? <br /><br />We could probably spell it before we really knew what it was, from taunting children singing their song, "Carol and Eric, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!". (wonder where little Eric is these days? Hmmmm. . .) Or that first foolish peck of an adolescent boy fumbling to do what he thought he ought to do, but not really knowing how to do it. Or the memory of the safety that a parent's kiss brought before tucking you in for the night. Kissing is a way to connect, to show affection, to love.<br /><br />Today, however, there seems to be a swell toward greeting everyone with a kiss. I don't know about you but I still feel awkward about this. After all, my family was not a family of demonstration. Not like the family that grew up a few doors down from me where even we kids were greeted with a big smooch and hug. No, my family was reserved, with a hug being the most that we would do in the most formal of occasions.<br /><br />So as times have evolved, I find myself kissing all kinds of people these days- friends, co-workers who I see frequently and infrequently, and even strangers who are introduced to me. Odd, isn't it? One of the most intimate gestures reduced to a peck on the cheek, or at least waving your face in that direction and moving on to the next person?<br /><br />I seem to have perfected my own "signature move". I like to call it the "grip and smooch". Perfect for business situations, I put out my hand for a shake and then as the person draws me in, I bend my arm creating a slight gap between the kisser and me. The kiss usually ends up deflecting into air just above the person's right ear which suits me fine.<br /><br />I watch at large meetings for the notorious kissers. You know the ones. Tons of cologne if a man, tons of makeup if a woman. The telltale signs are there on both sides- the lipstick smear on a man's shirt or jacket shoulder or in my case- I seem to smell like various men's cologne all day.<br /><br />The worst of it, though, is the sweaty guy. Every office has one. He sweats constantly and is always wiping his brow. It's like clockwork that this guy sees me at a meeting and then swoops in for the smooch. I slide right off his face and then spend the next ten minutes hoping to find a tissue with which to wipe my face. I'm all for going with the flow- but does anyone else find this a little gross?<br /><br />And it's a "Germ o Rama". Do you think it's coincidence that we all come back from large conferences sick at the same time? Heck no! We've been passing germs on a first name basis through all this darn kissing!<br /><br />And then don't get me started on the protocol for International kissing (and I'm not talking French!) Is it a double kiss? Single kiss? Both sides? Three sides? I am quite sure I am going to get a black eye one of these days as I will stop in the middle of the greeting sure that it is over, only to have the person return for some part of my face that hasn't been kissed and catch me in the eye with his chin! Urrgh!<br /><br />I think it's a trend to stay and maybe I am the only one who finds it a little much. I long for the days when a mere handshake would do in a business situation.<br /><br />But for now, since this trend seems here to stay, I am going to keep perfecting my signature move and try to stay away from that sweaty guy. But if you are reading this and notice the next time we greet that my kiss on the check is more like a fly by your right ear . . . .you'll know you've just witnessed the old "grip and smooch". Pretty effective, eh?ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-20327895359252443742010-07-03T18:04:00.001-05:002010-07-03T18:05:46.232-05:00Unconditional Love<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0GqJwuhvO7gDIFcz0GJD4OI7vc4lnHBlpFt-fXQDe6gZ9g030sv5ysy4wO9OwTG7aPcWEF_7SPitcMoet5sIxcBaFry7SOcxdE_0cBdVhO-oVcJMsjkYS-bsEWX46SE-hvTMP6BcdFcRi/s1600/a+cat.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0GqJwuhvO7gDIFcz0GJD4OI7vc4lnHBlpFt-fXQDe6gZ9g030sv5ysy4wO9OwTG7aPcWEF_7SPitcMoet5sIxcBaFry7SOcxdE_0cBdVhO-oVcJMsjkYS-bsEWX46SE-hvTMP6BcdFcRi/s200/a+cat.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489819998749991714" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyb9fmK6F0rjZpIQhSzF1VD1Ftt5BZFbTVJJIx2Ydjxv8DnFK8IrBqt8acemJdvscJxwdz667AjVCfb7msyCOpQ4mHJHE7mu7KEvkdVlLgKJyGRiY8R7VwEjUX0Vt3wmM3gjY5Rzp_HLis/s1600/a+dog+2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyb9fmK6F0rjZpIQhSzF1VD1Ftt5BZFbTVJJIx2Ydjxv8DnFK8IrBqt8acemJdvscJxwdz667AjVCfb7msyCOpQ4mHJHE7mu7KEvkdVlLgKJyGRiY8R7VwEjUX0Vt3wmM3gjY5Rzp_HLis/s200/a+dog+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489819993509327218" /></a><br />Today was my day to work at a local animal shelter. It's been 9 years since I first walked into those doors to find myself a feline companion. And each day I walk into the shelter, I am always amazed by the unconditional love that those animals have for us, the humans, who oftentimes, mistreat them horribly. <br /><br />People ask me if volunteering there makes me sad. "Sad?", I ask. "Not at all", for I know they are going to go to good homes. What makes me sad, however, are some of the "back stories" of these animals. And those kill me.<br /><br />Take, for example, the two cats who were left at the front door of the shelter (illegal, so you know) in a sealed plastic box in the Winter. No food, no water, no air and temperatures in the 20's. By the time we arrived to open the shelter in the morning- the two were near death, sweaty from trying to breathe and covered in urine. But most of all, they were scared. Great human thinking there.<br /><br />Or how about the family dog that was gotten as a puppy and now that the couple had divorced, neither side wanted the 12 year old animal? Through no fault of the dog- he was homeless and at 12, the likelihood of that dog getting adopted in his later years were slim. Again. Great human thinking.<br /><br />Or how about the animals that are given up because people are moving? I don't know about you- but I don't think there is a state in the US that doesn't allow for dogs or cats, but "moving" is the number one reason people give up their pets. Sure, I'm being facetious- I know moving means into a non pet friendly environment. But if pets were truly a part of a family- people wouldn't move to places that don't allow them.<br /><br />Want to know what does make me sad? Walking through the kennels. I am saddened by the looks on the animal's faces. You can see hopefulness and expectation in their eyes. Their tails wag, their ears perk up, for they are all looking for a familiar smell, a touch or a look, as these animals have no idea why they are here or what they did to get there. All they want is to go home, to sleep in their own bed, or to crawl into the one that they were sometimes allowed into. Yet each time the door is opened, the expectation is replaced by the realization of the home they once knew is gone forever. And the longer the animal has been there, the less interested they are when the door opens, to the point that some don't even rise to their feet any more.<br /><br />So why volunteer? The real joy is when an animal gets to go to its new, forever home. When kids and adults alike have that glow in their eyes of a perfect match. When tails are wagging, hands are petting and each is imagining just what life might be like together. It's a magical moment and it happens day after day in shelters around the country. Once abandoned pets are adopted by people who have the time and the intelligence to be good owners. Ones who lavish their pets with love and who in return receive that perfect, unconditional love that only a pet can bring. <br /><br />And as the door closes behind them to start their new life together, the kennel is readied, for the next abandoned or stray animal is about to arrive. And so, it all begins all over again.ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-11797702097113357372010-07-01T20:37:00.000-05:002010-07-24T21:22:54.475-05:00In my Mother's Mirror<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0l22nMCouDHlKc77skwquVvb6uJuEIMT15Ja6nC7QRRvzGC8-CNFqdH9epK8SOl_00RpEAybgR8kWXQW0NQINT5wFjGEdpnA33qOzs63KIa_vZuHL27_Wg5u84fnOiFXSiTg6IBuICklI/s1600/mirror.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 201px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0l22nMCouDHlKc77skwquVvb6uJuEIMT15Ja6nC7QRRvzGC8-CNFqdH9epK8SOl_00RpEAybgR8kWXQW0NQINT5wFjGEdpnA33qOzs63KIa_vZuHL27_Wg5u84fnOiFXSiTg6IBuICklI/s320/mirror.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497662199571277234" /></a><br />On my last visit home to my parent's house, as I bounded down the stairs the way I did for all the years I lived there, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror at the bottom of the stairs. And I thought of all the things that mirror had seen during my life in that house.<br /><br />That mirror became the inspiration for this blog as "From the Looking Glass" is a blog about my view on things that intersect my life each and every day. Just like that mirror that saw me basically grow up and reflected those years back to me, so is this blog a reflection of things around me.<br /><br />That mirror was a focal point. It was where I knew I was growing taller as I couldn't see me in it originally unless I climbed up a stair or two, or my dad gave me a "lift up". And then one day I could stand on the floor and see my reflection. <br /><br />It was the mirror that I would practice my singing in front of to see how I looked belting out a Carole King song for my junior high talent competition. <br /><br />It was the mirror that watched me practice lines for a play- going over and over the same scene until it was perfected. <br /><br />It was the mirror that I would check my makeup in as I dashed out the front door for a date. <br /><br />And it was the last thing I saw as I pulled the door shut and moved into my own apartment.<br /><br />Many years have passed since I lived in that house, but that mirror is still there. I again wish it was animate and could share the stories of the lives in that house with me. <br /><br />But it is enough for me to know that it reflects back a life of love, of family and friends, and of happiness and laughter. And that's just what this blog is about.ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-55949558812995473212010-07-01T20:12:00.000-05:002010-07-01T20:34:05.558-05:00Happy or sad . . it's your choiceA friend told me the other night that I might be "too happy". I thought about this for a moment and then wondered, can someone really be too happy? Or was it just the chasm between the way that he looks at the world and the way I look at the world that makes me appear to be the happier of us two?<br /><br />Life gives us choices each and every day. I firmly believe that I can be happy. Or I can be sad. It really takes no more energy to be one over the other so I choose happy. I think my friend chooses sad. And maybe that's why we're friends as between the two of us the world balances, if only for one second.<br /><br />This happy thing was a bit of a puzzle for me. I remember back in junior high school that my best friend was really the more popular of the two of us and I couldn't figure out why. So I watched her. And it was then that I noticed that unlike me, who walked down the halls with eyes downcast- she said hi to everyone, smiled, and that her smile just lit up her face.<br /><br />"That's it?" I wondered. "Could I walk down the same hall and smile and have people respond to me?" I couldn't wait to try it out. So on the next break, I walked from my locker to my next class smiling and greeting friends and acquaintances alike. And from that moment on, I was hooked! Happy is the way to be! People responded to me just the way they did to my friend.<br /><br />And if you don't believe me- try it yourself. I was in the grocery store line the other day and the cashier and bagger were lamenting the world as they passed the groceries down the line. When I got to the front, I smiled and said, "Hi, Jason" (the name tag always helps here!) He looked up startled said hi back as did the bagger. His entire demeanor changed when he actually smiled back. Yes- smiles can be contagious! Imagine a world where people smiled instead of frowned.<br /><br />Now before you go all crazy like my second grade teacher who put those darn smiley face stickers on everything (hey- it was the 70's ya know!) happiness is not just a smile but an inner feeling of self. But it can all start with that simple simile.<br /><br />Too happy? I doubt it. As I said, we have a choice in this world and I choose happy. How about you? What face did you put on to the world today?ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-47716872138872238342010-06-27T09:58:00.001-05:002010-06-27T11:38:15.262-05:00What I meant to say was . . . . . .I don't know about you, but since I don't have all day to spend on social networking sites, I have them set to send me an email when people post on my wall or leave me a message.<br /><br />The funny thing about those notifications is that they show me how many times people re-think what they post to a public forum. For even if you delete your posting- the email notification stays.<br /><br />The first time it happened, I thought it was a glitch in the system- some nuance of cyberland that had a post not appear on my page. "Darn", I thought. "That was really funny", and while a personal joke, others would have laughed too.<br /><br />The next time it happened- I realized that my friend had thought better of his post and retracted it for personal reasons.<br /><br />So now it's a bit of a game for me for I want to know what prompts my friends to retract what it is that they had originally posted. Misspellings aside (that's almost always when I do a "do over"), for what reasons do people "un post" a post?<br /><br />Did they think it wasn't funny enough? In poor taste? Too personal? In this day and age of the Internet being the way most of us keep in touch, usually what people post is what pops into their heads at the moment of reading something.<br /><br />But it is here that the social media sites come under duress. For unlike a real conversation, that quip or statement is said and forgotten. But on the Internet . . .it is there forever for all the world to see. <br /><br />For me, social networking sites are like today's version of parlor games. And like a parlor game, it is meant to amuse and to wile away the time. They are a way to keep in touch with the masses and to share a snapshot of what my life is like in a moment. But I never really post anything too personal, too intimate, no more than I would in reveal that about myself to a room full of strangers. For while I am connected in some way to all on my page, many of them are acquaintances, not close friends.<br /><br />Maybe this is a good thing . . letting me know what my friends might say if we were live and in person, before they rethink and edit their thoughts to make them more socially acceptable. Maybe they think it's a reflection on them. Or maybe they think it will reflect poorly on me.<br /><br />But whatever the reason- know that I read each and everyone of the re thought posts. For it is there that I find the true thought or essence of the thought- before our personal edit button kicks in.ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-3966658615485812612010-06-25T17:35:00.000-05:002010-06-25T18:22:34.577-05:00Friends for a Reason, Friends for a Season, And Forever FriendsA friend once told me that he categorizes the people in his life as "Friends for a Reason, Friends for a Season, and Forever Friends". <br /><br />I pushed back at the time thinking it was too easy to label the people in our lives but now I think he's right. Every day- people come into my life as others leave. What makes them fall into one category or the other? Why do some people immediately click and in a blink of an eye-you can't imagine your life without them? And yet other relationships you are constantly working at to make work. What makes a friend a friend?<br /><br />Like most- I have moved several times in my life picking up and leaving those who are dear to me and while we say we will "keep in touch", you know as I do that that rarely happens.<br /><br />I like to say that the world is "self sorting". Meaning that those that are truly "forever friends" stick with you no matter what. And those that fall into the acquaintance category ebb and flow like the ocean. What I love best about "forever friends" is that no matter how much time has passed since you last saw or spoke to them- the moment you re-connect, it is as if no time passed at all.<br /><br />Case in point. I have known my best friend since I was 15. We met in High School for the mere reason our names were alphabetical and therefore our lockers were next to each other. We really had nothing in common but we took those differences and turned them into a lifetime relationship. We are both the sister the other never had. We have not lived in the same city for over 25 years but no matter how much time elapses between visits, it is as if no time has passed. That is a forever friend.<br /><br />Friends for a Reason are a little tougher for me to describe, for if someone is only with you for a reason, is that really a friend? That person may not even be aware that they are doing it, but ever since my friend brought this category of friend to my attention, I look for it now. Am I a little jaded? You bet. <br /><br />There were days when I had nothing to offer that this kind of friend didn't even cross my mind. But today- people try to "friend" me for all kinds of reasons- connections, jobs, money, business, you name it. I recently had someone put my name as a reference for a job who I had only met once in a bar two years ago. When the recruiter called? I barely recognized the name. Definitely a "Friend for a Reason".<br /><br />And "Friends for a Season" are those people who you are sure will turn into "Forever Friends", but through time, the connection fades, the glow dulls and you find yourself wondering when you are out with them, why you ever connected with them in the first place. Sad but true.<br /><br />Take stock of the people in your life. Where do they fall? Are they there for a Reason? For a Season? Or are the people you surround yourself with, real "Forever Friends". You decide.ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8480957896088159486.post-7217173416361887812010-06-22T19:20:00.000-05:002010-06-23T07:33:30.381-05:00Bad SamaritanCan there be such a thing as a "bad" Samaritan? After all- we always hear the word Samaritan coupled with the word "good". But on a recent night in the city of Chicago- I, myself, I think, fell into the category of "bad" Samaritan.<br /><br />It's one of those experiences that keeps you wondering what the right action could have been. Knowing what to do in most situations is a skill set of mine . . so why would this situation leave me so unprepared for the right course of action? Or to feel so strange about the course of action I pursued? Have I been trained and taught to act unlike myself in certain situations? You be the judge.<br /><br />On a recent Sunday evening, I found myself driving in a strange neighborhood in the city at dusk. The car in front of me, a Chevy, was driving erratically, weaving from side to side so I gave it plenty of room thinking the guy may have had a little too much to drink.<br /><br />We both turned onto a major street with two way traffic. The car in front of me crawled to a stop but got so close to crossing the line into the oncoming traffic that buses and cars alike were honking at him. From behind- I honked my horn so as to get around his car.<br /><br />"Pick a lane", I yelled, totally frustrated with this person's actions and snail's pace. When I finally gained enough space to pull around the guy, I looked over with a look of disdain on my face. And it is there, in that moment, that I saw the driver for the first time.<br /><br />Unconscious and slumped in his seat, with only the seat belt holding him upright, eyes closed, was the driver. Did he have an attack? Die? Fall asleep? Should I stop? Try to help? My mind was racing.<br /><br />And then all those years of working in the city of Detroit kicked in. You see, my first job out of college was in inner city Detroit (hey- someone had to work there!) where my employer sent us to "survival classes" to learn what to do in certain situations. Stay in your car. Do not try to help. Phone the police. Keep moving.<br /><br />It was as if that training was yesterday and not 20 years ago when it actually happened. So this Samaritan (good or bad) did just that. Grabbed an address, a license plate number, phoned 911 and went on my way.<br /><br />But it haunts me still today if I did enough. Would I want someone to just leave me there unconscious in my car? What if he needed immediate care? Was there really anything more I could do?<br /><br />When do we ever know if what we think is the right action, really is?ConnectedGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13285421983659522717noreply@blogger.com1