Birthdays and Head Lice

I did the thing.  The thing where I wrote and wrote and wrote - telling all about my weekend. Which, truthfully, was not awesome. And then, I realized no one really wanted to hear anything about the little stupid details of my entire weekend, so I just erased the entire thing. Poof! Gone. Clean slate. Sticking to important stuff.

I'm starting over.

The very most important and significant thing which happened this weekend was that Boy-child is now an official teenager! He turned 13 on Sunday. Newly-minted and all that.

I will say that I didn't have one thing planned for him - which, as I alluded to in my last post - made me feel like the world's most awful mother. But he got to go to a trampoline park with friends and get his very first fishing license. Since he is a fisherman of some surprising ability, getting his licence was a very good thing. He is super-excited. I think he half-hopes to be asked to prove he's licensed. (So, TVA/TWRA folks - if you're listening - if you see a 4'9" blond kid somewhere in the vicinity of The Secret City, ask him to show you his license. He'll get a kick out of it!)

I did bake him a cake, though. Which, even though it kind of fell apart on me, icing and decorations hid it pretty well. I guess that's something.

The other thing which happened this weekend, which, while certainly not as important or significant, is not to be left out - and if you find it gross, I don't care - is we discovered Girl-child had head lice!

OH MY GOODNESS YOU SHOULD HAVE HEARD THE SCREAMING!

Though, admittedly, finding one has bugs in one's hair is scary, the screaming and crying was over-the-top! I tried to calm her down. I explained this was a relatively easy fix and all I had to do was go to the store and get some stuff. (Side Note: As I was kneeling in front of her, with my hands on her face assuring her she was not, in fact, dying, she said, "Mom, you have a lot of gray in your hair!" Yes. Yes I do. And you just gave me twelve more.)  I left her - red-faced and puffy - wrapped in a towel sitting in the bathroom while I ran to Walgreens.

The pharmacist there was super nice and helpful and answered all my questions because I haven't dealt with lice before and had no idea what to do. Head lice has a stigma that comes with it, but I suppose maybe not as much as it used to. I'd certainly never seen them before. But the pharmacist assured me it was extremely common and easily treatable. Where Girl-child picked up the awful critters is anyone's guess - but I have a couple of thoughts on the matter.

As we were treating her noggin, I messaged anyone I knew she'd come into contact with that day and apologized, suggesting they also check their children.

The entire process, start-to-finish, took TWO HOURS! She finally went to bed (clean sheets; the others, along with all blankets, etc, got stripped off and washed immediately) at about 10:30PM.

The pharmacist suggested I, too, treat myself. Yay. (Hear that sarcasm?) So I did. Repeating the procedure on my own head.  So I am - and truthfully already was - bug/nit free.  Even so, I've got psychosomatic itching, which, more than anything is simply annoying.

So, poor Boy-child ended his relatively uneventful 13th birthday listening to his sister scream. (Yes, he was checked, too: nothing.)

Yay for weekends! I need a nap.

TTFN
JMS

Can you pass The Resume Test?

You all have been listening to me spew advice, thoughts, peeves, rants and other information for a long time now.  For that, I must say thank you.  I have a lot of experience and lot of knowledge, but it’s all self-taught and learned through many years of keen observation and asking enough questions to fill an Olympic-sized swimming pool.  The point is: I know what I’m talking about and I don’t make stuff up because it sounds good.

One thing I know – for absolutely certain – is what employers (recruiters, specifically) are looking for when they review resumes and assess applications.  Bottom line?  They’re looking for formatting faux-pas, spelling snafus, and informational inconsistencies as much as they’re looking for employment experience and skill set.  Yes, the alliteration is fun, but what those alliterative allusions allude to (sorry, couldn’t help myself) could be detrimental to your job search.  You can be certain they’re testing you.

Have you ever asked yourself this question: “I’ve put out tons of resumes, I know my stuff and I’m an great candidate, so why am I not getting any call backs?”

First of all, the very best piece of advice I can give you is, “SLOW DOWN!”  You may be in a hurry to get a job, and therefore in a hurry to update your resume and start submitting applications, but don’t.  Hurry, that is.  Take your time.  Be thoughtful.  Be deliberate.  And BE HONEST.

Secondly, when you put together your resume, have a trusted friend look it over.  Heck, have two friends look it over.  Ask your friend to not only look for glaring errors, but ask them to think like a recruiter: what would they want to see?  If possible, show your friend a copy of one of the job ads you’ve responded to and ask them to impartially consider the match.  Also, have them take resume format into account.  Not just the way your resume is laid out on paper, but to look for spacing problems or things that just seem…off.  Then, no matter what they say, listen.

Third, SPELL CHECK!  This cannot be stressed enough.  You could be the best match for the job, but spelling errors could get you fired before you’ve even gotten the job.  Most employers aren’t going to think, “Well, she looks great on paper, and those spelling errors are probably just accidents, so let’s get her in here for an interview.”  They’re not going to give you the benefit of the doubt.  They are looking for the best, so be the best.  Further, most spelling errors aren’t accidents.  Yes, typos happen, but the worst thing you can do is show a potential employer you don’t know how to spell.  The second worst is showing them you didn’t bother to spell check your work.  Spell Check is there for a reason, so use it.

And lastly, be very careful about inconsistencies with your time-line.  In any type of resume, if you list start and end dates of a previous job and then have months or years in between listing your next job, consider saying something of what you were doing during that time.  For example: From July 2012 through January 2013 assisted a family member recovering from major surgery.  Whatever the case may be, say something so a potential employer knows you were not simply sitting around on the couch, eating yellow cheesy sludge out of a bucket with your fingers, and hollering at the television while collecting an unemployment check.  For that matter, if you were collecting unemployment, you may want to say something like: From July 2012 through January 2013 was actively seeking permanent employment.

One other thing.  It is in your best interest to keep your resume to one page, or two pages printed on one sheet if you’re using hard copy.  It is definitely a challenge to get all of your important information on one back-to-back page, but if a recruiter has to read War and Peace, they’re going to get bored awfully quickly.  Would you want to risk it?

The above tidbits don’t just apply to resumes, but also to online applications and any forms a potential employer may send you to fill out.  Also, understand this: Your resume is not the right place for elaborating.  The interview itself is the right place and time for further explanations and storytelling.  A recruiter worth his or her salt will only pre-screen potential employees who pass the resume test.  If you’re job hunting, go back and really look at your resume.  Do you think YOU would pass the resume test?

~Tangent (JMS's alter-ego)

PS: Tananda says. “For the love of all that is holy… do not use some sort of decorative font or put artwork/graphics/selfies all over it.” For what it’s worth, I wholeheartedly agree. Once you’ve got the words on the paper, let them speak for themselves.

Originally posted at Tananda.com on 10/8/15

Mirror-Mirror or Dear Abby

Most people who know me understand that I am not, and never really have been, a girly-girl – except maybe when I was very young.  I don’t like dresses, preferring instead the jeans and tee-shirt attire.  Oh, I know how to dress up, and dress professionally, and tend to succeed when I do, but I prefer the comfort of jeans.

The other day I did something I very rarely do; I wore makeup.  Mostly makeup just annoys me.  Plus, I am allergic to most makeup (yes, even the Bare Minerals stuff everyone suggests to me) so mostly I just avoid it.  On top of that, I tend to be impatient – duh! – so taking the time to put on my face every morning would, in my opinion, just be a waste of time.  (I feel the same way about my hair, which explains how almost every single day of my life is a bad hair day.)  Now, granted, when I do take the time to put on makeup (and do something about my hair) I get comments on it – which is most definitely flattering – but with the allergy thing and the lack of any real desire to beautify (har-dee-har-har) it’s just better if I forego makeup altogether.

However, something occurred to me: I have a daughter.  Well…OK, I didn’t just figure this out.  I was there when she was born and her constant presence in my life makes her kind of hard to forget.  Plus, she’s kinda cute and I love her, so I think I’ll keep her around for a while.  But, it occurred to me that if she doesn’t ever see mommy putting on makeup or doing something about her hair, or thoughtfully considering an outfit, she might decide she doesn’t care about her own appearance.  And, while I don’t want her to worry about how she looks, (‘cause I think she’s pretty perfect as is) she will want to ask questions about makeup and hair (and boys – yikes!) as she grows up.

So, when I made the decision to do a little something extra to my appearance the other day, she came in and watched.  And wanted to know what everything was.  And watched very closely as I applied the goop to my face.  And showed her interest in the stuff by wanting blush applied to her cheeks, too.  And, when I was all done (and feeling pretty fabulous, actually), she said, “Mom, I like you better without makeup.  Can I pick out your earrings?” 

(Sigh!)

Oh well, I guess you can’t win ‘em all.

TTFN

JMS

Righty-tighty, Leftie-loosey?

I’m right-hand dominant…I think.  I write right-handed.  I eat right-handed.  If I’m playing baseball (har-de-har-har) I bat and throw right-handed.  I toss Frisbees with my right hand.  I throw a football with my right hand.  That makes me right-handed, right?

But, I carry my purse on my left shoulder.  I wear my watch on my left wrist.  I wear my fitbit on my left wrist.  I carry stuff left-handed.  I keep my coffee cup on my left.  I use my left hand to lift and drink…mostly…though sometimes (and most especially if I’m dining at an actual table) I’ll lift and drink with my right hand.  I hold playing cards in my left hand.  I use my left ear when I’m on the phone.  (Of course, I attribute that to partial deafness in my right ear, so that’s really not an awesome example.)  I sleep on my left side.  Carrying things in my right hand feels awkward.  Wearing stuff on my right hand/wrist feels awkward.

What, exactly does this mean?  Someone with more knowledge than I have about such things needs to enlighten me in words that I can understand.  Please remember that I am not a doctor or a human behavioral scientist – nor do I play one on TV.

TTFN

JMS

The nuances of doing the laundry

I’m sorry – I know this is wrong of me to say.  It’s probably wrong of me to even think it.  But, love Hubby though I do, he creates the most bizarre loads of laundry I've ever seen.  All different kinds of colors and materials – his stuff, kids’ stuff, my stuff, random stuff – all jammed together in one overloaded…uh…load.  Here’s an example of what I found (and subsequently folded) last night:

• a bright orange and white University of Tennessee-themed knit cap (watch cap/toboggan/toque – depending on where you’re from);
• my long-sleeved, eggplant-colored shirt;
• my ancient, soft, over-sized periwinkle-colored sleeping t-shirt;
• a fake Burberry throw;
• three or four boy-child shirts that are about three sizes too small (can’t even figure out where they came from to wind up in the load in the first place!);
• a single pair of boy-child’s olive khaki cargo shorts;
• one black sock;
• a single, blue, flannel, flat sheet used for Hubby’s massage table (he’s a massage therapist, in case you didn't know);
• a small, crocheted, doll blanket (blue);
• one of girl-child’s soft blankies (pink and brown) 

I’m sure there was some other random stuff in there that I’m forgetting.  And yes, I know I’m petting my peeves again.  But really?  I can’t figure this out.  Did no one ever teach him that whites go with whites, darks go with darks, some materials shouldn't be washed together (if at all, ‘cause, you know, hand-washing and all that jazz) and that you don’t pack the washer drum so full that it can’t agitate? 

I know it doesn’t help that our washing machine is crappy to begin with, and that it leaks all over the kitchen floor every time we use it (yes, it’s in the kitchen) and that there’s this sort of musty odor that I absolutely cannot get rid of that I get a whiff of every single time I walk into our house; all of which means that doing laundry in our house is a challenge and not one to be undertaken lightly.  I’m trying to give Hubby a pass here.  But, admittedly, I am a bit concerned that if I mention all this to him he’ll either ignore me and continue doing it his own (wrong) way *or* he’ll simply say, “Fine, you do all the laundry then, Miss Know-It-All,” and never touch the washing machine ever again.  Neither option is acceptable to me.  Is there a third option?  I need your help here.  And as much as I’d like to ask you to fund a new washing machine and dryer (she says, only half-joking), I won’t. 

I know all the basic laundry rules.  I feel that I am, personally, quite successful at washing clothes without wrecking them.  I don’t shrink things because I dried them accidentally (or haven’t done so in a considerable amount of time).  I don’t mix colors and whites.  I know how much soap to use and when to use the delicate/hand-wash setting vs. the permanent press setting.  To quote Robert Fulghum: “These are choices I can understand and make with decisive skill.”  I still burn water in the kitchen while trying to make mac & cheese, but (again, from Mr. Fulghum) “washers and dryers I can handle.” 

However, I would very much like to know how to re-train a full-grown man on the nuances of doing the laundry.  Because, though I tend to be a somewhat (ok…thoroughly) random person myself and on some deeply-internalized level understand the strangeness of Hubby's laundry load choices, there are some things that just need to be done a certain way.  Some folks would say – hey, it’s washed, or, it’s folded, what more could you ask for?  And, quite frankly, while they are right, I really don’t want to be the one to fold every blasted article of clothing or every sheet and towel that we own.  And I really don’t want to be the only one to wash the fifty-billion loads of laundry we seem to do every week.

And yes, for those of you saying, “Why don’t you teach boy-child and girl-child to do their own laundry?” – I’ve tried.  Once.  At that point boy-child was still just not ready for it and girl-child was too little.  Now that they’re a little older, I think boy-child could probably handle it and then I wouldn’t hear “MOM!  I don’t have any clean [insert article of clothing here] to wear to school tomorrow!” anymore.  But then I'd never be sure he was wearing clean clothes and I would be absolutely mortified if he wore the same thing to school every day for a week; and he totally would.

Anyway – I could go on forever about this.  And if I’m being honest (and I am) we really need to get rid of a TON of too-small, or ill-fitting articles of clothing – so that would cut down on laundry-doing quite a bit.  But can laundry nuances actually be re-taught to someone who has been doing laundry for a very long time?  You know, kind of like teaching an old dog new tricks, it can be done, but it takes a lot of work.  And really, what kind of time do I have to actually do the work that re-training requires?

Sigh.  I guess I’m out of luck, eh?

TTFN

JMS

It's practically a requirement

One of the things I love about being a mom is getting to spend one on one time with my kids.  They spend a lot of time together, and for the most part, they get along pretty well - with a few pushy-shovey-he-said-she-said-that’s-mine-no-it’s-mine thrown in for good measure.  Because really, what would parenthood be without those special and important parts of a parent’s resume: peacekeeper, disciplinarian, human lie detector, etc.?  You get the drift.  But when they’re together, they’re always in some kind of competition with one another; for my time, for hubby’s time, for the stuff (whatever that stuff may be).

I mentioned several (ok a dozen or so) posts ago that one of my new favorite things is the kids sweetly competing for hugs from me in the mornings before I leave. The hug from boy-child, who relinquishes me to his sister so girl-child can hug me, but then he scoots around us so he can get behind her for yet another hug from me, then she follows the pattern, and so on and so forth until I have to say, “Ok guys, I’ve really got to go!  Love you!” and scoot out the door.  This truly could go on forever, but I love it.

However, when there is an opportunity for me to spend quality one on one time with one or the other of my kiddos, I do my best to jump on it.  They each know that I love them and care about what they have to say, and this alone time is an opportunity for me to prove it.  Not with stuff but with time.

Tonight, Hubby took girl-child to Girl Scouts.  So boy-child and I went to Firehouse Subs and had a mutually agreeable dinner together and the conversation spanned from school, to standardized testing, to Minecraft, to the new-fangled drink machine the restaurant has, The Weather Channel, weather in general, and opinions about many other topics.  My son has an amazing capacity to understand things far beyond his 11 years; he is so wise.  Then we hit the local thrift store, just to see what they had, and as we wandered, we searched for various things that might interest us – just because.  He wanted to get a Beanie Baby for his sister.  Then we found a t-shirt that says, “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” on it and he said, “MOM! Don’t you think [girl-child] would loooo-oooove that?”  So we got that, too.  He’s a sweet kid and thinks of his little sister even without a parent prompting him.

Now we’re home, the laundry is tumbling, teeth have been brushed and we’re hanging out together talking about a game on his tablet called “Hay Day” – which is kind of like FarmVille, but not.  And he has been touting the virtues of becoming a landscape architect “because it’s so satisfying to arrange things on [his] farm so they are pleasing to the eye.”  I’m quoting; that actually came out of his mouth.

Anyway – I really enjoy hanging out with my kids.  When boy-child goes to Scouts with Hubby, I hang out with girl-child and that can mean anything from cooking a simple meal together, to just throwing together a snack plate (covering all the nutritional bases, of course) and curling up in bed together to watch a Disney movie.  We talk about all kinds of stuff too, just different stuff.

I guess that I’m kind of lucky that I actually enjoy my kiddos.  I know there are lots of parents out there who think of their kids as accessories, or worse, a burden.  I feel sorry for those parents.  They have absolutely no idea what they’re missing.

TTFN

JMS

Yup...I know the feeling

http://www.laughtard.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/I-cant-adult-today.jpg

Shut the front door!

I suppose the best thing I can do is to begin by saying this (and really, most of what I write) is an opinion piece.  I don’t expect anyone to bend to my will or see things my way but I sure as heck am going to tell you what I think because, after all, this is my blog.  As Phil Williams says, “This is my opinion; feel free to make it yours.”

In all my years working in an office environment I’ve seen a lot of things.  I’ve been around so many different kinds of people that quirks, habits and other idiosyncrasies tend to roll off me like water off a duck’s back.  Yeah, I get irritated and sometimes think unkind things but it’s rare (very rare, in fact) that I say anything about them.  I might even have a good old fashioned Bitch Session (forgive me) with my girlfriends – but not in a way that will specifically hurt anyone.  However, I must now take a stand.  I must pull out my well-worn soap box, climb atop it, and preach to the highest heavens.

****

In every, single, iteration of office-life that I’ve lived, there are these wonderful inventions called Conference Rooms.  These rooms are to be used for…well…conferences.  Meetings.  Gatherings of a multiple-attendee nature.  They sometimes have windows with nice views, or are simply four walls, a projector, a projection screen and, maybe, a white-board with (hopefully) non-scented dry-erase markers.  Whatever.

Also, in every, single, iteration of office-life that I’ve lived, there are these equally wonderful inventions called Conference Room Doors.  These doors are to be used for…well…closing.  And opening.  And closing, again.  They are for secluding the meeting-gatherers inside the aforementioned Conference Room in order to have a private meeting.  They are also for making sure meeting-gatherers do not disturb those sitting in the immediate vicinity.

I am, in fact, one of those sitting in the immediate vicinity of a conference room.  It is right directly across the hall from my office.   I am supposed to leave the door to my office open – at least ajar – so people don’t feel like they are unwanted; they should feel free to come in at any time.  (A closed door is a visual barrier, a wordless message to stay out, and some people are hesitant to cross that barrier - even by knocking and announcing their presence.)  However when folks meeting in the conference room across the hall leave the door open, I must shut mine. 

I’m glad there’s levity, or intense conversations, video or voice conferences.  I’m glad people have meetings to work out their issues or find a path forward.  But there is no need to include me by proxy.

Putting it plainly, for the love of all that is peaceful and quiet and productive in this world: SHUT THE *@#$!!! DOOR!  The rest of the world does not need to hear you, and more to the point, you are disturbing the rest of the office by leaving the door open. 

Pretty please?

Thank you.  That is all.  I shall now thoughtfully, and gratefully, put away my soap box.

TTFN

JMS

It all happened so fast

You know how they say when you’re in danger, everything becomes really clear?  Well, I can attest to that now.  And that “it all happened so fast” statement is also true.  This morning, while driving to work in all the leftover slush and snow, on badly-plowed roads, I did something I’d never done before, and honestly, it all happened so fast I’m not 100% sure how it happened.  The entire incident, start to finish, took about 30 seconds.

Anyway – there I was…driving to work, on a road I travel every day.  On a good day, the speed limit on that road is 40 (maybe 45, I can’t remember right now) mph.  I was going maybe 30 mph, tops.  Like I said, the roads were pretty sloppy and I’m pretty careful.  I think I hit a pothole (that, of course, I couldn't see because it was covered with the slushy mess) and suddenly the back end of my car is slowly spinning around like it’s trying to do-si-do with the front end of my car. 

I took my foot off the accelerator, left the brake pedal alone and I remember clearly thinking, “Steer into the skid, steer into the skid” – trying to recall my driver’s education training.  And then it was over.  I was facing the wrong direction completely stopped in the median.  

In my next moment of clarity I thought, “Threat assessment!  Where are you?”  I looked up and took note that this normally busy road was completely and totally empty.  There was not another driver to be seen and I was on one of the straight-away stretches!  What luck!  If this had happened on any regular morning (which I doubt it would have) the danger at that point would have been getting tagged by another car.  

I thought, “If I’m not actually stuck here (which was a distinct possibility), I should be able to reverse and get myself out of here.”  And that’s exactly what I did.  I popped it into reverse, tapped on the gas and my car responded right away.  I turned around the right way and continued on to work; myself and my car no worse for the wear.  I was shaken up, yes – but totally unharmed.  And yes, I still had a cup of coffee when I got to work.

This little incident isn’t going to deter me from driving to work in similar conditions, though admittedly, it might have if this had happened ten years ago.  I know now, in a situation like that, I can keep my cool and not flip out.

Go me.

TTFN

JMS

Mirth on a Monday

A friend sent this to me. I think it's hysterical and therefore had to share. You may chastise, forgive or praise me later.

*** Adult Truths ***

1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die. 
 
2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong. 
 
3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger. 
 
4. There is great need for a sarcasm font. 
 
5. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet? 
 
6. Was learning cursive really necessary? 
 
7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood. 
 
8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died. 
 
9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired. 
 
10. Bad decisions make good stories. 
 
11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day. 
 
12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again. 
 
13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to. 
 
14. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call. 
 
15. I think the freezer deserves a light as well. 
 
16. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lite than Kay. 
 
17. I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option. 
 
18. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger. 
 
19. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said? 
 
20. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters! 
 
21. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever. 
 
22. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is. 
 
23. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time. 
 
24. The first testicular guard, the "Cup," was used in Hockey in 1874 and the first helmet was used in 1974. That means it only took 100 years for men to realize that their brain is also important.
 
Quit laughing, ladies!

TTFN

JMS

SERIES: Email Diseases: How they affect your life and how you can avoid them (Issue 1: Reply All Syndrome)

In my professional life as an administrative assistant, I see a lot of email.  And I mean a lot of email.  Tons.  I’ve seen all manner of badly written email.  SHOUTY CAPITAL LETTERS.  the perpetual lowercase user.  The Forgetter of Punctuation.  Let’s not forget individuals who do not care how a word should be used grammatically, or how it should be spelled; if it looks good, or perhaps is one of those words favored by that particular individual, even if it has nothing whatsoever to do with the context of what they are writing, they will use it.

Today, I shall touch upon something that, if I am being truthful, annoys the crap out of me.  Something I am certain you, fellow email user, have either encountered or have (GASP!) been guilty of.  Frankly, as email users, we are all guilty of this from time-to-time, but the ramifications…well…the ramifications could be at least embarrassing, at worst damaging, and always annoying.

The REPLY ALL Syndrome

So there you are.  You’re buckled down.  You’re focused.  You’re organized and getting stuff done.  You are feeling productive and your day is moving along very nicely.  You receive an email which has been sent to…for the sake of this argument…over two hundred recipients.  You do your due diligence, open the email, read the information contained therein, and think hm…looks like they forgot to include the date on which this event they’re telling us all about is going to happen.  (I’m making stuff up, just stay with me for a bit.)  Just as you are considering your reply, another email pops through with the same subject.  You think hm…looks like someone got to it before I did; let’s see what they say.  You open the new email, observe that the responder has come to the same conclusion that you did (the event date is missing) and further, has taken the liberty of responding not only to the original sender of the email, but also to everyone on the original distribution list. 

This secondary individual in this example (we’ll call him The Responder) has a disease.  It is called The Reply All Syndrome, or RAS, for short.  It’s contagious.  And it spreads like wildfire.

In the blink of an eye, two more emails hit your in-box in response to the original email notifying you about the event.  Rapid fire REPLY ALL.  And quickly, three more.  Each email saying essentially the same thing, “What is the date of the event?”  Now, not only has your day been interrupted once (the original email) but before you could say "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" your day has been interrupted seven more times.  And it’s only just beginning.  Pretty soon, you get one brilliant responder who decides that it’s up to him to respond to everyone to ask everyone to please discontinue Replying to All.  It is at that point where you, who were so productive and focused earlier, are now totally distracted to the point of considering slamming your head into the nearest hard surface, wall, whatever.  Full-on Face Plant on your desk out of sheer frustration.

We’ve all been there, ladies and gentlemen.  And unfortunately, we’ve all been guilty of it, too.  However, there is a difference between accidentally hitting the Reply All button and doing it on purpose.  Let me give you a hint: If everyone on the original email absolutely must receive information which is vital to their continued existence or to the subject matter at hand, then yes, by all means, select Reply All.  If your response is based on a feeling – for example, you feel you should let everyone know that the date of an event was missed – please, for the sake of all that is good and organized and free-flowing in this world, respond only to the original sender! 

You could respond to the original sender with something like Hey – you may have already gotten this several times, and I apologize if my email is just one of many, but I wonder if you realize you neglected to include the date of the event?  If you would please let us know when said event is to occur, I sure would appreciate it. 

OK – maybe not exactly like that.  But wouldn’t you much rather receive an email response such as the example above, even if you have already gotten several, than over a hundred Reply All responses?

There is a cure for this disease.  It is called Conscientious Attention to Detail or CAD, for short.  CAD is not something that comes naturally for humans.  It is something to which we need to aspire.  We are born with a natural immunity, if you will, to CAD.  CAD must be actively practiced, on a minute-by-minute, day-by-day basis.  It must become habit to become an effective cure for Reply All Syndrome.  Unfortunately, in today’s society of instant gratification, CAD is rare.  Texting, truncating words to fit within a certain character limitation, or simply a gradual (and sometimes not-so-gradual) slide away from proper usage of language is prevalent.  Therefore we must be diligent!  We must be attentive!  We must constantly consider how our actions (or non-actions) are going to affect others!  But again I say, this instant gratification society is also a “Me” society.  How many of you have said, “Well, it (whatever it is) doesn’t affect me so therefore why should I bother?”

I think I have just made my case.

SWISH! Score one for Tangent.

TTFN
JMS

Cross Posted: http://tananda.com

A New Meaning to Tunnel Vision

My son lives in a tunnel.  Ok, not really.  He lives in a small house with his mother, father, sister and Facha, the dog.  (Ok – not really the dog, either.  Sorry – I lapsed into Arlo Guthrie’s Alice’s Restaurant for a second there.)  He lives in a constant state of whatever is currently in his head, what he’s thinking, where he’s going, what he’s doing – but only in the sense of however those things affect him.  He sees nothing but what is at the end of that tunnel of thought.  You see?  He lives in a tunnel.

For such a smart kid (and he is so smart it’s scary) he’s pretty clueless about the world around him.

Let me give you an example or two.

Tonight after supper, he got out of his chair at the dining table, pushing it back and into the box behind the chair.  Banged himself away from the table loudly, bumped into his father, and made a bee-line for the only comfy chair in the room.  When he reached the chair, he hurled himself into it, causing it to slide back and further causing the back corner of the chair to come into contact with the large window in the living room.  The bottom half of this window is already cracked I had a moment of apoplexy waiting on the chair to crack the top half of the window, too.  Thankfully, that didn’t happen.  So when I called all this to his attention, he proceeded to twitch his body in such a way as to hopefully scoot the chair forward without having to get up.  Meanwhile, he’s holding onto an accent pillow which, as he’s scooting the chair forward, is pushing a glass off the side-table with each scoot until….CRASH!  Glass hit the floor.

All this occurred over about a 40 second period of time.  I hollered at him out of sheer frustration and then his father made him leave the room for a little while.

Hubby wrongly assumed I was just being pissy and so I tried to explain that really, it wouldn’t matter all that much if stuff like this didn’t happen all the time around our son.  An explanation to which I received a “Yeah, right,” response.

Ok – moving on.

While I cleared off some stuff from the table, this allowed our son a few minutes alone in his room so when I called him to come talk to me for a few minutes, he was angry and defensive. 

I explained it like this:

Buddy, you do realize that there is a whole big world out that that you interact with, and that interacts with you, on a daily basis?  Everything you do and everything you say affects someone or something else.  Right now, you’re moving through life in a tunnel and I really need you to come out of that tunnel.  All you see is what’s at the end of your tunnel.  Where you’re going.  What you’re doing.  What your goal is.  But you don’t see the things around you that your journey to the end – to your goal – is affecting.  Let me give you an example…

And I proceed to tell him the story of Alice’s Restaurant and the twenty-seven color glossy photographs with the circles and arrows and a para….wait.  Sorry.  I just did it again.  I call a do-over!

And I proceed to tell him what I told you above about the chair and the glass.  He was completely oblivious to everything I said except the sitting down part and the trying to scoot the chair forward part – until I hollered at him.

He said, “But I don’t always drop stuff, Mom!”

I explained that it wasn’t just dropping stuff and proceeded to talk about all the times he runs into things, how he sits down by throwing himself into his seat and gets up by banging into everything he possibly can and how when he takes a drink he’s so focused on the next thing that he’s not paying attention to where he’s putting the glass and he nearly always slams it into his plate. 

All of this he laughed at, like I was trying to be funny.

I explained that really, I’m not criticizing.  I’m simply trying to help him understand that everything he does affects something else.  Every single day.  Well, of course then he got upset because he thought I was trying to tell him he was screwing up on a daily basis, which I was not.  But in his ten-year-old brain, maybe that’s how it all sounded, I don’t know.

But what I did say was that I wanted him to start paying attention to the things, the people, the world around him, and how his movement through the world affected everything else.  He said he would.  I probably did an absolutely awful job at explaining all this to him in a non-threatening manner and in a way that he could understand my point.  I suppose the next few days will tell me if he heard me, or he actually HEARD me.

This parenting gig is tough.

TTFN

JMS

You ain’t got nothing on me!

Move over Red Bull.  Take a hike Five Hour Energy.

One of the most important parts of my morning routine is…of course…coffee.  First, I pick up my mug.  Then, I take a trip down the hall to the break room to wash out said mug.  Then, I stride with purpose back down the hall to my office and proceed to select one lucky K-cup from the spinny-thing on the coffee bar.  I open the maw of King Keurig, pop in the proffered offering, and pierce it through with joyful anticipation bordering on glee.  I usually yawn once or twice, just for good measure, while I wait for King Keurig to spew forth its beautiful, lava-esque liquid.  Strong Coffee, Ultra-Strong Coffee, and Holy-Crap-That’s-Bracing-GASP-Just-Let-Me-Catch-My-Breath-And-Wipe-My-Eyes-Before-You-Try-To-Talk-To-Me-Coffee.  Yeah.  That’s the stuff.

Cream? Nope.  Sugar?  Definitely not.  Why ruin a good thing?

Oh Jen…why?

Because Death Wish Coffee – that’s why.  The most beautiful sacrifice King Keurig has ever, or will ever, touch.  It slices, it dices, it kick’s sleep’s ass.  It’s the best thing since sliced bread.

Wait!  Seriously?  Death Wish Coffee?  You’re kidding, right?  I sincerely hope you’re kidding!

Nope.  It’s awesome.  You, oh coffee-lover extraordinaire, must get some.  Take it from me (in this totally unsolicited, absolutely from-the-heart, truest form of flattery “advertisement” for the brown grounds that are made of awesome) if you truly love coffee in its purest form this is the caffeinated beverage you’ve been dreaming about all your life.

Don’t believe me?  Go to http://www.deathwishcoffee.com for proof. 

TTFN
JMS

When is Early Too Early?

There’s been a story out of Maryland about a couple, parents who let their children walk a mile home from the park – alone.  I was asked yesterday what I thought about that particular news tidbit and I really had to struggle to answer.  I may lose some of my beloved readers over this, but please remember, you’re here precisely because you want to know what I think. ;)

While I understand what these parents are trying to do (teach responsibility and give their kids a modicum of freedom) I do not believe that at 10 years and 6 years old, those kids are quite ready for that kind of freedom and responsibility.  Had they allowed their kids to walk home “alone” by staying about 50 feet behind them, then maybe the semblance of being alone may have been enough for these young children.  And maybe it would have been enough for the parents to feel like they had accomplished what they’d set out to do.  And maybe the police wouldn't have packed these little kiddos into their cruiser and this whole thing could have been avoided.

I think about how my kids are very similar in age to the two children in the story.  And then I think, “What would I do?”  Well, I’m sorry, but it wouldn't have happened to begin with.  I trust my kids, and I trust that if they said, “We’re just going to go from this place to this place,” they would do exactly that.  It’s other people I don’t trust.  The mother in the story said, “The world is actually even safer than when I was a child, and I just want to give them the same freedom and independence that I had — basically an old-fashioned childhood.”  And while on the surface that sounds logical and reasonable, it’s B.S. if you ask me.  Yeah – we got kicked out of the house and told, “Go play!  Come back when the street lights come on or when you hear me whistle, whichever comes first.”  And we’d go collect our friends and take advantage of that great invention called Outside.  But I really do believe that my ten year old is too young to wander around on his own. 

Sometimes they walk two houses down to see if the neighbor girl can play for a bit, and yeah – admittedly – it makes me nervous.  But then for the most part, they play in our back yard.  It used to make me a nervous wreck to allow the kids to hit the restroom at a restaurant by themselves, and when they were really little, we absolutely went with them to make sure things like hand-washing happened.  But now that they’re older, it doesn’t bug me as much.  I let my son take the small inside recycle bin outside to the big recycle bin at the curb all by himself.  He’s good about it.  I trust him.

It’s other people I don’t trust.

And while we’re on the subject of my son being able to do certain things – I have decided the kid is now old enough to do his own laundry.  Hey – if you want to teach responsibility, there’s an excellent place to begin.  This started when on Thursday night, at bedtime, he says, “Mom, you've gotta do my laundry.  I don’t have any clean clothes.”  And my brain seized up.  I felt my eye twitch.  I gave him that Mom look that every mother perfects within the first two years of the life of her child.   And he knew he’d said something wrong.  He said, “Well, I think I can probably find something.  Never mind.”

Wise child.

Then this morning, before church, he said, “Mom!  You’ve really gotta do my laundry!”  Well I’d had it.  I showed him an entire top bunk bed full of clean, folded (mostly) clothes that had yet to get put away.  Yes, he’s got the three or four things that he really loves to wear and when they’re all dirty that means he has no clothes to wear.  (sigh)  So I showed him this pile, said, “I’m sure you can find something there.  And later this afternoon, I am going to show you how to do your own laundry.  That way, when you have no clean clothes, it’s all on you kiddo.”

Then I was the recipient of the withering look.

Anyway – my point of all this is yes, I think those parents who allowed their kids to walk home alone were wrong, even though I understand why they did it.  Those children are just too young.  Give it a couple more years and maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be such a big deal.

TTFN
JMS

Advice, Given & Received

A friend of mine said something to me the other day that resonated with me in a way very few things do these days.  We were discussing my anxiety over a certain project and she said, “You’re just anxious about [the project] because you care.”  (I’m paraphrasing.)

Holy moly!

Okay – so it may not be such a moment for you, but it was for me.  I do tend to get anxious about the outcome of things and she’s right, my level of anxiety is directly related to how much I care about the project or thing that I’m working on, or people the project will affect.  The more anxious or stressed out I am, the more I care about what I’m doing.  I never really thought about it in that way before, but…wow...I've definitely thought about it now.

It’s kind of wild (and maybe, if I am being honest, a little disconcerting) to have someone who isn’t me know me, in some ways, better than I know myself.  If this person were just about anyone else, I might have brushed it off and not thought another thing about it.  But my friend, being who she is, means that paying attention is practically a requirement.  This is a good thing.  It's folks like her who you want to listen to.

This probably isn’t going to really change anything – knowing my anxiety vs. care ratio – but it does fall into the category of Best Advice I’ve Ever Been Given.  And, though I suppose it wasn’t exactly advice, either, I am still putting it squarely in the BAIEBG column because it fits there.

Here’s another example of great advice given to me.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away (sorry – don’t smack me) I worked in a jewelry store in Old Town, Alexandria, VA.  The store owner was brash and difficult and we butted heads…often.  I loved my job.  I loved the jewelry.  I wanted to love my boss, too, but she made it very difficult.

One day, a co-worker pulled me aside and advised, “You’ve got to listen to what she is saying, not how she is saying it.  Do that, and you and [boss lady] will get along just fine.”  (I’m not paraphrasing here – I actually remember this one word-for-word.  Hm…how odd that the above advice was given only yesterday -or maybe it was last week- and I can’t remember the exact words, but this thing that took place nearly 20 years ago, I remember verbatim.)

I don’t remember exactly what happened after except to say that my life got infinitely better after that sound wisdom was imparted to me.  Even now, as a much older adult, I occasionally have to remind myself of those words.  Listen to what they are saying, not how they are saying it.

It's good advice, don't you think?  I think it can be effective in both your personal life, and your professional one.

TTFN

JMS