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Welcome to WordPress. This is your first post. Edit or delete it, then start blogging!
My friend John struggles with his boss. He claims she is quick to criticize him, and takes for granted the things he does well. Discouraged, he complains about her every time we talk. “Listen to what Stacy did today! She drives me nuts.” Whenever he tells the story, he is the victim and Stacy is the bully. What’s interesting to me is John is an Event Planner for several Fortune 500 companies, traveling all over the country creating memorable events, telling lots of important people what to do. But when it comes time to go toe-to-toe with his boss, things get fuzzy for him. […]
As a trainer here at dotStaff™, my favorite moment in my training presentation arrives early on, when I point out our Reverse Auction feature. “A reverse what?,” you say. The phrase “reverse auction” is like a 97% chocolate bar, almost too rich to get your head around. Think of it like eBay, only in reverse. To better illustrate, here’s how it works: In the job board table, both the Client and Vendor have the ability to see the lowest bill rate submitted to date. This allows the vendor to decide if they want to submit at a lower rate. I used to believe that this feature is more advantageous for our Clients than our Vendors. But not anymore. Here’s what this feature looks like in dotStaff™: […]
In light of our new company wellness program called “Save the Body,” and for the wellbeing of all of you, I want to share some personal information. I just learned that a close friend has Stage 1 melanoma, or skin cancer. The good news is, it’s operable and it was caught early enough. The more I read about melanoma, though, I see how narrowly he dodged a bullet. He did what a lot of people do: He thought, I don’t have the kind of coloring susceptible to skin cancer (he’s dark haired, has dark eyes & dark skin). As a result, he was cavalier about using sunscreen. He also kept putting off going to the dermatologist because he’s so busy. When he went to see the dermatologist last Monday, she took one look at the big honkin’ mole on his chest, got in his face and said, “This could be serious. It has all the signs of melanoma.” Since Monday, while awaiting the results, he and I have been like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, staring feverishly at our hourglass running out of sand. […]
How many things can I do each day—not just steps—to amp up my “feel good” meter? If every physical step boosts my total, what about other choices I make in my day?
Last Wednesday I talked to my teammates, Brent and Melanie, about how hard it was for me to get myself out of bed and into the gym. (Gym vigilance is a must thanks to my daughter’s divine cake experiments). Brent and Melanie both shared motivating affirmations that get them out the door and on that treadmill. I began wondering how others here in the Indianapolis office motivate themselves to go exercise. I thought, surely I’m not the only one struggling! So I canvassed people at my office, and asked them, “What do you tell yourself to get out of bed or out the door to the gym, even when you don’t want to?” Their answers have been trickling in the last few days, and they range from light to as serious as a heart attack. Here are a few of their responses: […]
Last Sunday I dropped my daughter off at a culinary camp in Chicago—a four hour drive from Indianapolis.After arriving in Chicago, we spent 3 hours touristing Michigan Ave and Navy Pier in 90 degree heat before arriving at her camp dorm downtown. The counselor scanned her list and shook her head:“Your daughter’s name is not on our list.” These were not the words we wanted to hear after a very long day.While speaking on the phone to the director, she repeated some solutions out loud to us, one being “there’s one empty bed in the boy’s room” (Pah! Over my dead body!).After about 15 minutes of fraught negotiations, my daughter finally secured a bed.Later I spoke to the director myself, who apologized profusely.He ‘fessed up to his mistake, and did an excellent job of soothing our frayed nerves. My daughter and I were both still a bit rattled, and as she and I said goodbye, she gave me the look that said, you’re leaving me here? I pulled myself together and said, “Mistakes happen angel.Part of life. He’s entitled to make them. So are you.” […]
Last night my kids and I rode the elevator to The Eagle’s Nest, a revolving restaurant on the 14th floor of the Hyatt Regency in downtown Indianapolis. The maître d’, Leander, happened to ride with us to the top, and I told him we planned to just have dessert. “There’s a banquet going on now, so let me seat you at a regular dinner table!” he said. My kids were casually dressed in cutoffs and t-shirts, and I felt a twinge of self-consciousness as we walked by the swank white tablecloths and shimmering wineglasses. For the next hour it was like—well—sitting in a warm nest—while we enjoyed our two desserts. Several different members of the waitstaff came by our table (with delighted smiles) filling our water glasses, asking if we needed anything, answering our questions about the mechanism that twirled the restaurant. Then, as we boarded the elevator to leave, I noticed a sign by the exit that said, “Proper attire required: no t-shirts, cutoffs, sleeveless t-shirts permitted.” […]
I love that little Undo button available in various programs. It is the most forgiving feature! Thanks to that little twirly arrow, it no longer matters that you accidentally copied your entire distribution list into the subject line of your email. All you have to do is click the button, and voila! The mistake is gone, and the world rests once again on its axis. Sometimes I wish I could click a button like then when I’m relating to people. Recently a co-worker came by to tell me something he was really excited about. I faced a huge deadline in that moment and didn’t give him my full attention and excitement. He walked away a little mopey because normally I’m that girl people tell cool stuff to because when they tell me, I feel as excited as they feel. . . But not that day. It was a lose-lose moment for me and him: I lost out on hearing his exciting story, and he lost the chance to share his thrill. […]