Author: catherinewemette

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Ashley Career

Bossy

My husband and I were walking through Old Town Alexandria recently and our conversation veered towards work. Out of nowhere he says, “Isn’t it weird how when men are successful leaders, everyone admires them and talks about how much they respect them, and when women are great leaders, people just think they’re bitches?” (Sorry for using French so early!) Dear husband of mine, it’s not just weird, it’s unfortunate and wrong.

I read Sheryl Sandberg’s Lean In a few years ago and, since Nick isn’t a reader, I imparted  as much of Sandberg’s wisdom as I could to him. On our walk, I reminded him about the Lean In movement and the unfortunate “bossy” tag we give women in leadership positions. I asked him how he would describe me and my leadership style. He used words like fiery, intense and “a little bit rage-like…” Whatever that means (though I envisioned a female version of Bernie Sanders). We laughed, and then I got serious. Not exactly what I was hoping to hear from the #1 man in my life.

Oddly enough, earlier that week, someone used some very different, very flattering adjectives to describe me: energetic, upbeat, approachable, and always smiling. Jackpot! …those comments came from a woman. Then, the very next day, another female coworker called me the “team mom.” I can hardly tell that story without choking on the words. I can’t win.

My husband is a wonderful man and great husband. He’s always proud of me, encourages me, isn’t afraid of my need for the spotlight, and he believes in me. He cheers me on to success and dares me to continuously do more, and do better. I adore that about him. But when he started describing my leadership style, I wondered if my husband, my biggest cheerleader, is using these descriptors, do other men view me that way?

Recently, after some recurring and tense interactions, my (male) boss confronted me so we could work it out. We calmly worked through the “whys” and addressed how we could work better together. He let something sneak into the conversation that made the recent frustrations on both ends make much more sense…“well, let’s face it, you’ve basically been running the team.” Bingo. It was a compliment, and yet maybe a warning. My leadership skills were too much for him to handle, and were overpowering my boss’ own management style. (Team mom, or faux boss?)

So what’s the deal?! How do I break free from the perceptions and the descriptors, that my male and female counterparts are attributing to my leadership style? I don’t have the answers yet, but I’m making some strong observations and hopefully will start to really stand on my own two feet as a leader. I do know that I’m grateful to be a part of history where the expectations of women have changed and we feel and are a part of real progress. I’m grateful that we can participate in a dialogue around the challenges we still have to overcome…and that we can do it over a glass of wine or bourbon, neat.

– Ashley Respecki

Categories
Career

Human Engineering Skills

“15% of one’s financial success in life is due to your technical knowledge and about 85% is due to your skill in human engineering.”

– Dale Carnegie

I love when smart people say what I’ve been thinking in a much more eloquent way than I ever could (I guess it’s a long time until I get some quotes of my own…). I’ve been at a training all week to get certified in one of my favorite approaches to life – Crucial Conversations – and our trainer led with this quote on day one.

I’ve always believed that for most jobs (at least the jobs I come across in my world), there are many technically qualified people. It’s not hard to find people who have the technical skills to do what you need done – marketers, trainers, writers, accountants, volunteer managers, sales people. It’s much harder to find people who have the personality and people skills to blend with your team. But “human engineering” sounds WAY cooler than people skills, so that’s what I’m going to go with from here on out.

Hiring for human engineering skills and then training for technical knowledge isn’t a new concept. Nor is the importance of said people skills. I do think, however, that we often lose sight of its importance because it’s an intangible and we don’t know how to ask for it in a job description or posting. Describing it as the “X Factor” isn’t helpful, nor is the “It Quality.” Yet, we somehow know those people when we see them. Carnegie seems to almost quantify it and make it sound quasi-scientific with the term human engineering – like it’s an actual valuable skill rather than some touchy-feely business you can’t quite put your finger on.

Crucial Conversations builds on this idea. Through these concepts, we can identify successful human engineering skills that result in better handling of difficult discussions. And I would certainly make the argument that knowing how to handle difficult situations is what separates the good human engineers from the great ones (and increase their own financial success – thanks, Mr. Carnegie!). I’ve always admired people who can say almost anything to anyone, regardless of the situation, and walk away with everyone feeling better about where they ended up. I absolutely think those are skills are worth paying for – knowing how to get to the heart of the issue, speaking candidly and establishing mutual respect. They’re more rare than we think and it’s time for the market to recognize the necessity of those skills and pay up.

I’ll have more to say about Crucial Conversations in the future, but for now, check out the book and get yourself to a training if you can. Developing your human engineering skills is well worth the investment, and if Carnegie is right, that investment should come back to you in no time at all.

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Inside My Head Libby

Grandmothers

I just found out that my co-worker’s grandmother just died. She was – understandably – wrecked and had to leave work. Today, we are all sharing thoughts with her to show support and it got me thinking about my own grandmothers and what I learned from them:

  1. Always have a good time. My maternal grandmother was a party girl – my earliest memories of her revolve around entertaining: hams, turkeys, bloody marys, smoking and swing music. While my mother has a different view of things, to me it was always an environment of joy, celebration and friendship. The warmth she exuded while entertaining was the same whether the house was full of people or just the two of us. Either way, she taught me that it’s important to have fun with the people you love.
  2. If all else fails, make fudge. My paternal grandmother was not the warm and fuzzy type. She was serious, cranky and distant…we had very little in common. But we still managed to connect on a very basic level: she made the best fudge ever. She may not have been able to hug and snuggle me, but that fudge let me know how much she loved me. (That and her mac ‘n cheese…yum…)
  3. A place of refuge. When I was in college, times were tough for my family; we were going through a lot. I didn’t know or understand the extent of things, but I did know that my parents had a series of difficult decisions and there was a lot of stress. My grandmother stepped in with the option for me to live with her. She wasn’t one for heart-to-hearts, but she offered me a place to decompress and process in peace.
  4. Music is important. With both grandmothers, music played a role in our relationships. At both houses, there was always music in the background (my paternal grandfather was a drummer in a Dixieland band). When we would arrive at my grandmother’s house, she would direct us upstairs to “put on your suits” and go get into the pool – she had an old “boom box” that she’d put in the window from the kitchen and blast swing music while we swam. They were both one-woman audiences for all our shows and musicals. They taught me songs that I sing to my own children.

I am under no delusion that my grandmothers were perfect, or that they were even good mothers. But they were important people in my life, people who offered support, guidance, a way out and love…to me, they are wonderful foundational pieces of my childhood and my adulthood. I thank them for all they were capable of giving and for giving it – I think that might be the most important lesson: giving something is better than giving nothing…the smallest things can end up being bigger than you’d ever think possible!

– Libby Bingham

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Inside My Head Karen

Carefree or Careless?

I have a memory. I was a little girl and my mom was going to the grocery store. I asked her if my friend and I could go to the park and play in the wading pool while she went to get groceries. She agreed and dropped us off.

When we arrived, the park attendant told us we couldn’t play in the water with regular clothing. We needed a bathing suit.

My mom had already left so now what are we going to do?

I had a great idea and thought we could walk over to my neighbor’s house and swim in her pool. My plan was to call my mom at the grocery store and ask them to page her and I’d let her know where we were – once we arrived at my neighbor’s.

Off we go, walking. We walked and walked. At last, arrived. I called to leave a message at the grocery store, as planned, but they couldn’t locate my mom. This didn’t faze me. And we continued with our plan to swim.

Yep, that’s my story.

Imagine my mom’s rendition! The panic. The fear. Is her little girl safe? She’s responsible for my friend, too! She doesn’t know where I am. She couldn’t find me. What thoughts were racing through her head?

My perception of who I was as a child is a bit of a footloose kid. I didn’t think through my decisions fully. I would go with the flow. Adjust. Adapt. Roll with the punches. To not be fazed was normal. My lens was full of adventure and wonder. I was the “okay, sure” tag-along. I wasn’t the leader; I was definitely the follower. I would get lost in my imaginary world and create worlds that didn’t exist. I created pretend stories. And ever since I can remember, life was good and I was blessed with a carefree nature. However, I wasn’t passive and docile. I had lots of energy. A tomboy. A handful, sometimes…

Thinking on this memory, was I carefree or careless?

I’ve been thinking about the paradox of these words. And my answer is, “Yes, both.”

I would imagine from my mom’s perspective, I was completely careless. But from my perspective I was carefree.

My mom’s lens might be: “Karen was not thoughtful of how her behavior affected others.”

My lens is: “We’ll figure it out. All will be well.”

My mom’s lens might be: “If Karen would have taken a bit more time to think through her options, we wouldn’t have experienced this gut-wrenching fear.”

There is a price to being carefree. The reality is, it’s a paradox. With my carefree nature, I also have a careless nature.

For example, I’ve had to replace my mobile phone three times in one year. My phone drops from my hand and falls out of my bag because I won’t take the time to care for it properly.  In the last 3 years I’ve broken 7 phones. That’s a 7:1 ratio compared to my friends.

Carelessness vs. Carefreeness. They co-exist in my world.

I don’t want to forfeit my carefree spirit for the sake of over-thinking. But I do want to be carefree with more thoughtfulness.

– Karen Thrall

*also published on www.karenthrall.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Categories
Career Libby

Weakness?

My friend recently went on a job interview. It was a group interview, just her and five staff people sitting around a table…gulp! That’s fairly intimidating, but she said it all went well…until the last question:

“If you were interviewing you for this position, what would be your biggest concern about your taking the job?”

That’s basically code for what is your biggest weakness. How do you respond to that? She said she came up with something clever and somehow turned it into a positive (lots of bobbing and weaving!). And that’s exactly what you have to do, right? In life – especially at work – you constantly have to turn a negative into a positive, continually finding ways to overcome areas in which you do not excel.

But you can’t let your weakness define you – if you do that, you’ll never move forward. If you can’t answer that question by spinning it into a positive, game over. Maybe it’s a little cheesy, but a “weakness” is simply an opportunity to learn new things and build your skills. If you look at it as a flaw, you’ll never stretch and grow. Yes, it’s true that introspection is difficult, but the rewards of overcoming your weak spots are what will propel you into awesomeness. And get you the job.

– Libby Bingham

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Inside My Head Melissa

“The mind that is not baffled is not employed.”

I took a bath last week (let me add that the bath was in addition to multiple showers). It was therapeutic in an unconventional way. I was feeling a little down and felt like I deserved an answer from the world on what’s next, and I thought a bath would help me sort things out. I try to remind myself that I don’t “deserve” things, that I need to work for them and I get that, but I think it would be nice if while I was driving down the proverbial highway of my life a sign said “Get off here.” I don’t need to know exactly what I’m doing off that exit – just that I got off at the right exit.

So back to the bath. I’m sitting there with my face inches from the water so that my hair is gently swaying below the surface. All the delicate strands crisscrossed. They made, dismantled, and remade shapes (there was a real fractal-like quality about it) and I wanted this beautiful moment–where I was so focused on the gentle movement of my hair–to reveal something about what I should do next. Spoiler alert: it did not. Looking back, it would have been bizarre if my hair spelled “humble” like Charlotte’s web…that would have been life changing because it would mean that I have lost my marbles completely and I’m not ready to deal with that kind of change.

I wonder why at times when we feel lost, we also feel a little hopeless. I don’t have the answer to that and I don’t have the answer on what my next life move should be, but I reminded myself that it’s okay – that while I’m lost, I’m not hopeless. In a few weeks or months or maybe even next year (please, world – don’t make me exercise patience for that long) I won’t feel lost, but in the meantime, I keep coming back to these words and they are very comforting:

“The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.”

– Wendell Berry

– Melissa Grant

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Ashley Inside My Head

Embracing the Ugly Cry

January was one of the weirdest months I’ve experienced as an adult, and it was, without a doubt, a terrible way to kick off 2016. I should’ve known – my horoscope for the month was pretty clear: “Communication will be impossible this month,” and “people will misunderstand not just your words, but your actions as well…” I thought, psh, I’m a great communicator. Bring it on.

The misfires and layers of miscommunication were awful. Five days after my husband and I lost our beloved dog, my parents and younger sister (who’s 18, a senior in high school, and obviously still living at home) decided to welcome a brand new puppy to the family – same breed as the adored puppy we had just lost. Having never had an indoor pet (I’m not counting the random fish or multitude of hamsters I had as an only child until the age of 8), this whole thing was highly unusual for my family. To make matters worse, I had waved the red flag and said, “please don’t do this, it’s going to come with a whole crazy level of hurt for me.” They did it anyway. The only saving grace? They live 600 miles away.

At work, our team is adjusting to new ways of working, new ways of thinking, and new teammates. Tensions are high, but in a good way. It’s the way you know something great is on the horizon. But it doesn’t mean it’s been easy, and when the conflict came to a head, we got everything out in the open and dealt with it.

What I learned from all the grief, misunderstanding, and growing pains January brought was this: you’ve gotta embrace the ugly cry. I’m talking the red-in-the-face, crinkled nose, snot bubbles, congestion-inducing ugly cry. There is definitely a time and a place for the ugly cry, but when appropriate, it feels pretty damn good. Most of my “time and place” for the ugly cry in January was in late in the evening, on the phone with my grandmother, likely sitting in the staircase at my apartment complex where no one dare goes. (I’m a closet crier, clearly.)

I felt so cleansed moving into February. I’m sure it’s close to the feeling most people had moving into the new year. And now that Mercury is moving out of retrograde, this Capricorn is waving goodbye to the ugly cry for awhile.

– Ashley Respecki

Categories
Career Karen

Make an 80% Decision

The difference between a great decision and a mediocre one is one word: doubt.

I’d rather make a great decision and be 80% successful with 20% room for error, than to second-guess my decision, doubt it and then do 100% n.o.t.h.i.n.g!

I’m someone who will default to performing at 80%. The advantage? Things get done. Not perfectly, but they get done.

In school, when children bring home a straight A’s report card they sometimes are rewarded with gifts and money and other fun things. However, when you come home with a straight B (minuses!) report card, I’m pretty sure there’s no bicycle in the driveway waiting for you.

But here’s the thing: I’d rather perform with B’s and get things done. The bicycle can wait.

Why? Because there’s no such thing as perfect. If I adopt that mindset, my stress levels will be through the roof.

I’m comfortable with an ‘almost perfect’ outcome.

For example, my company is being built on 80%. If I didn’t have this philosophy, I’d still be in Vancouver in a senior leadership role for a luxury footwear company working a 9-5 job. Well, actually, more like a 60-hour a week job.

Taking a leap of faith is like committing to doing something at 80%. The remaining 20% is the cushion, the room for error, the room for growth and, best of all, room for the “aha!” moments which arrive at my doorstep unannounced. The 20% buffer rocks!

My mistakes don’t define my success. However, they absolutely contribute to my success. My shortcomings, those moments where I find myself thinking “I have no idea what to do” turn into amazing lessons for my personal development.

Yes, in the moment or errors, I’m being stretched wayyyy out of my comfort zone. It’s like I’ve been thrown into a stormy ocean of “what to do ” waves! But I don’t drown. I’ve never drowned. Each time I’m in that “I don’t know what to do” predicament, a life vest of new thinking is thrown my way.

Those 20% flawed moments provoke me to ask this question: “What am I going to do about it?” and “How do I get through this?” They force me to look beyond my limited understanding, to seek out help and ask for insights. I read more, explore more and research more. That 20% flaws create an “uh oh” in me that forces me to think. And when I take time to think, I’m welcoming life to teach me. I am a student. I open myself to knowledge and understanding that far surpasses my limitations.

My 20% mistakes keep me motivated and, in turn, I remain true to my original commitment: “Get it done.”

If one of the principles enveloping my business is, “Karen, you’ll figure it out. You’re 80% ready, go for it. Get it done.” then the 20% room for error plays an essential part and empowers me all the more.

Why are we worried about doing something at 80%? Our reputation? Our ego? Why do we put so much pressure on ourselves to function at 100% in our decision-making and in our execution?

Quite frankly, the only way you can do anything at 100% is within a team context. When I was fortunate to lead an incredible team of managers at John Fluevog Shoes, I felt like we were unstoppable energy with limitless possibilities. My 80% contributed to someone else’s 80% and so on and so on. A team of 22 people performing at 80%, well, do the math. The beauty of teamwork and leaning on each other, knowing that I can only get straight A’s if I do it with y.o.u. is unbelievably empowering, life-giving and successful. Together we join our flawed performances, we weave a tapestry of unique fabric and create a masterpiece.

Embrace your 80%. Embrace his 80%. Embrace her 80%. And let’s fill in each other’s gaps.

Don’t be afraid of the 20% errors. It’s only 20%. Life’s too short to be uncertain. Be a great decision maker. Stay the course. Get it done. Learn. Grow. #pressrepeat

– Karen Thrall

*also published on www.karenthrall.com

 

Categories
Awesomeness in the World

Fourth Place

I was meeting a friend for lunch last week and my walk there took me through a park. It was a warm enough day in January that there were a lot of people out and about (or maybe it wasn’t that warm and people were just thrilled to be out of their homes after our big snow storm. Either way…). There was a group of 7 people who caught my attention – presumably two mothers and their five kids. (Okay, after considering this last sentence, maybe it wasn’t that warm out. If I had multiple children at home during a snow storm, I’d be out whenever I could, regardless of the temperature!) One child was being carried and the other four girls were running around while their caretakers kept close watch.

In their playing, the four girls were racing to an imaginary finish. The first one crossed and yelled out, “I’m first!” She was followed by the second and third girls who also eagerly claimed their places with shouts of glee. Finally, the fourth – and seemingly youngest – caught up and triumphantly shouted “I’m fourth!” with as much pride as the first three. In that instant, she made my heart happy with the way she viewed the world. She wasn’t sad about being the smallest or coming in last. Instead, she was delighted with her finish – she placed FOURTH, after all! And what struck me as equally impressive was that her fellow racers didn’t tell her she lost or correct her fourth place finish to a last place finish – they all continued on to whatever adventure was next, happy to have completed the race.

This whole exchange happened in the span of less than a minute, but stuck with me for the rest of the day (and into this week, clearly). I was delighted by the joyous statement of fact, free from any judgement along with it. It made me wonder when we lose that – when do we stop seeing fourth place and start seeing last place? Others may be quick to point out our shortcomings, but I so much prefer this girl’s way of seeing the world and her place in it. I think we could all stand to be a little kinder to ourselves. Focus a bit more on the facts and a bit less on the judgement. See a few more fourth place finishes and a few less last place finishes. This was a wonderful reminder to me and I hope sticks with me until I get the next reminder.

Here’s to all our fourth place finishes!

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Inside My Head Libby

Snow Bound

Last week, the Washington, DC area got rocked by a blizzard. There was a lot of hype and hullabaloo preceding the “snow event,” but it was warranted – the area got hit with anywhere from 20 – 36 inches of snow. CRAZY. And it was crazy – everything was shut down: Metro, the federal government, fast food establishments. Here are some observations:

  1. Nature is something. Watching the entire blizzard process was incredible – the snow, the wind, a fox that was running around in the front yard trying to figure out where to go…amazing. To see how the snow accumulated, especially waking up in the morning and the landscape and totally changed, was remarkable. Being blinded by the sun sparkling on the snow and seeing the trees decorated as if in a Macy’s Christmas window makes me happy. Nature!
  2. “A sweater is something you have to wear when your mother feels cold.” I think this is a Nora Ephron quote, or maybe Oscar Wilde (thanks a lot, internet…) and it has been hammered home these past several days while cabin-fevered up with my seven-year-old son. “Put some socks on!” “Mom, my feet are hot!” I think it’s too cold to go outside, and he is outside tunneling through snow for hours. To me, snow means we can’t go anywhere, to him it means he doesn’t have to go anywhere [school]! As usual, it is all about perspective. Which also reminds me that I am ridiculously thankful I am “imprisoned” in a warm house with plenty of food, cable and internet.
  3. The Martian is inspirational. If you haven’t seen it yet, it really is impressive – although ridiculously suspenseful (I had to make my parents tell me the ending halfway through because I couldn’t take it). If you think “surviving” the blizzard is tough, try being abandoned on Mars. It made me realize how impressive our meteorologists are, that they used science to predict all of what would happen and prepared us well, probably saving many lives. Best takeaway from the movie is to find ways to “science the shit out of” life’s challenges. Not sure that will get me more half-n-half for this morning’s coffee, but it is definitely a way to look at other obstacles in my life moving forward. (My science-brained husband may be more useful than I thought!)
  4. Jack Daniels knows how to make friends. When it was finally over, my dad and I were out shoveling the driveway making incremental headway. A neighbor down the street used his snowblower to clear the sidewalk all the way to our house. Dad went inside and got the bottle of Jack to help warm the guy up and say thank you – next thing I know, there are four other neighbors hanging out, drinking and shooting the breeze. I didn’t even know there were that many people in the neighborhood!
  5. Family. Because we were worried about losing power, I left my husband holding down the home front and went to my parents’ house where they rarely lose power (thank you, underground power lines!). My worries were not realized (phew) but I knew my husband would be okay, while if we had stayed, I would have worried about my parents and about my son. And everyone else in the family was worried about all of us here – phone calls were coming in from Ukraine, Buffalo, Boston and Scotland to check on us. It was nice to know so many people care about us, but being apart from loved ones is the biggest challenge of the whole endeavor. Stay warm, safe and snuggled if you can!

– Libby Bingham