Gen Y: Name That Boundary

Last Saturday at the USD alumni banquet, the man seated next to me asked, “What do you do?”

I told him I help large companies improve employee performance, and that I especially enjoy coaching and training Gen Y. He gave me a puzzled look. He had never heard of Gen Y, and wasn’t aware of the intergenerational dynamics of the workplace.

Then his wife chimed in: “I raised my son to call me by my first name.” Big pause. Now I don’t want to imply that a fight broke out — it was an innocent comment on her part. But clearly we were on different wavelengths. I would no more call my parents Jim and Judy than I’d call my bishop “Bob.”

So I’d like to hear from you: What did you call your parents, growing up? What do your kids call you? How about your kids’ friends?

Rethinking Ready, Fire, Aim

Years ago, I interviewed the CEO of an industry-leading company, who told me, “Things are moving so fast these days, ‘Ready, Aim, Fire’ no longer works. You have to ‘Ready, Fire, Aim.’” Like a bright goofy duckling (to use Anne Lamott’s phrase), I wrote that down and took it to heart.

Well, guess what? It turns out that philosophy should have come with a big huge warning label. As in, “Works best when spending someone else’s money.” Being self-employed, I have learned that a bit of reality testing is critical. Few of us enjoy pouring time, money and energy down a hole, which is what the Ready, Fire, Aim philosophy encourages.

As others have said before me, successful people rarely just wing it. They set aside their own emotional attachment to an idea (product, service, etc.) long enough to gauge how it’s going to fare in the marketplace. It’s time to recommit ourselves to Ready, Aim, Fire.

Office refrigerators can be hazardous to your health

Did you see this?

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090512/ap_on_fe_st/odd_rotten_office_food

Mechanical pencils rock!

Last night as I sat down to read a book, I grabbed the nearest pencil — one of those no-brand, old-fashioned kind that comes in a package of 10 or 12. But when I went to write in the margin, I couldn’t believe how thick and incompetent the lead was. So I got up out of my comfortable chair and went to sharpen the pencil. I came back, and guess what? The lead was still somewhere between lethargic and disappointing. So I dug out one of the few mechanical pencils I own, and presto. Problem solved. I couldn’t believe the difference. I’m happy to tell you all the old-fashioned pencils, along with my Xacto® pencil sharpener, are now out of my life. Meanwhile, I’m looking at a brand new package of Pentel® QuickerClicker™ automatic pencils. A tad pricey, but oh so worth it.

Turning My Back on Facebook

It sounded fun and harmless, so at the invitation of a friend, I signed up for Facebook–and in the blink of an eye, I deactivated my account. Why? For one thing, it was like being at a big party with my nieces and nephews, some of my former students, an old boyfriend or two, and people I do business with. In theory, this is all good, even the old-boyfriend part. In reality, it’s weird. Really weird. There are some things I just don’t want to see or know about. I’m reminded of the wedding reception where my friend Joe groaned “NO!” over and over again, as his parents joined a conga line to “Old Time Rock and Roll.” I’m laughing out loud, mainly because it was Joe’s parents and not mine!

I love the comment made by a young woman describing John Paul II: “He didn’t try too hard to be like us–he made us want to be like him.” I will keep that in mind if I ever decide to fill out another profile on Facebook. But there’s probably a better chance I’ll become the next pope.