cindydroog's posterous

I’ll confess. I love to make fun of corporate culture. The things we all say. The way we do things. Even the way we decorate our offices.

It’s a very bad habit. It should stop immediately.

But before it does, I had to take a few shots at a report that came out from Harvard Business Review earlier this year about what top-level business leaders and business scholars came up with as their list of stretch goals for the future.

Before listing their challenges, they had a lengthy discussion on the importance of management. Which in and of itself, is funny. I think next week, I’ll organize a group of my coworkers to sit around and talk about the importance of cubicle dwellers. Then, when I get home, I’ll email my fellow moms and talk about the importance of moms.

I’d also like other women named Cindy to candidly discuss with me the importance of women named Cindy. Surely our views would be unbiased and ultra-valuable to women less fortunate than us. Like those named Jenny or Shelly.

I almost wish these managers had taken a 12-night taxpayer-paid trip to Las Vegas instead.

A few gems about the importance of management – from management’s perspective, mind you – include that it’s one of humankind’s most important social technologies. Really? Because if you’d have asked me what was one of humankind’s most important social technologies, I probably would have said computers.Language.

They also "decided" that the management model of most of today’s large organizations is seriously out of date. Yeah. I thought that 15 years ago when I entered the work force. So did most of Generation X. Who was invited to this meeting? Rumplestiltskin?

Another brilliant insight was that organizations should become more inspiring places to work. Now that’s deep. It definitely takes someone with real oak bookshelves and a window view to figure out that the rest of us brown-fabric-wall-folk might not be inspired on a minute-to-minute basis.

But back to the stretch goals. Where I work, we have a performance management tool called a "stretch goal," which is essentially management’s way of not giving you extra money in your annual bonus. They know the stretch goal should be called "the goal that’s unrealistic because of all the red tape here." Throughout this list of stretch goals, some made sense. Others were stupid. Most contained phrases I am outright sick of, such as:

Process. They felt a process that reflects the interdependence of our stakeholders was needed. Newsflash: Meat is processed. You are over-processed. Your workforce is over-processed. If you give me another "process" to learn, I’m going to jump out of that window in your office.

"Valuing divergence." You can’t force people to value something. Either they do or they don’t. How about letting diverters make an important decision? Forgiving them if they make a mistake? "Value" is lip service. It’s why companies start letters with, "Dear valued customer." In other words, "What was your name again?"

"Increase trust." Apologies to Stephen Covey, but I’m tired of reading that business and trust go together. Or brands and trust. It’s taking things a little too far. I trust my mother. I trust people who’ve weathered a storm with me. Who’ve kept secrets. Who’ve proven over and over again that they deserve trust and won’t abuse it. I might like you. Enjoy your products. Recommend you. But I’ll keep trust to my inner circle – thank you very much.

"Retool." I’ve no idea why this word is so popular in business. Clearly, these fogies don’t know that "tool" is now a popular expression for an idiot. So, every time I hear a business is retooling, I laugh. Really loud. You’re shifting the idiots? Great. That gives me hope.

To the group’s credit, they did call these stretch goals. And they know just as well as I do what that phrase means: They’ll never happen.

The only difference is these folks will still get their bonuses.

Don’t Make Me Bobby Hurley! (And other CinDictionary Phrases)

 You know those Word of the Day calendars?  I need a new one for 2011 – just to reacquaint myself with phrases that have taken on a new meaning for me since becoming a parent.

For example: Burrito. It used to be something I’d pick up f down in the employee cafeteria at noon on a day full of meetings. But it soon became a verb meaning, “wrap the baby as tightly as possible in his blanket, so he can sleep better tonight.”

Using it in a sentence would go like this: “Honey, can you burrito the baby while I find his blanket?”

Another example: package. It used to be something the mailwoman delivered. And trust me – I enjoy those packages a lot more than the “package” of my new vocabulary where the translation is: dirty diaper. Here is how I would currently use it in a sentence: “I took care of the last package – can you get this one while I run downstairs and get the laundry out of the dryer?”

Or, we might be overheard in a restaurant, after a return from the restroom changing table saying, “That was the grossest package we’ve had in a week!”

(I have to admit – even if I referred to a package I received at work as “gross,” I’d probably have a line of people outside of my cubicle who’d still be happy to take it off my hands. It’s always amazed me, especially around Christmastime, how even smelly cheese can exponentially increase one’s number of cubicle visitors.)

And finally, I used to refer to Bobby Hurley during casual conversations about former NCAA basketball stars and semi-famous people I once met (in a bar, in New Jersey). Bobby probably won’t like this, but around our house, our toddler son has pulled a “Bobby Hurley” when he’s thrown up.

I’m sorry, Bobby. I’ve always been a big admirer of yours, but I just don’t like the words “throw up,” “vomit,” or – the most detestable – “puke.”  So, Bobby Hurley it is. And it’s quite fun when used in a sentence when I’m on the phone with my father-in-law. “Dad, I have to get off the phone now. Alec just Bobby Hurleyed all over the couch.”

I can’t help but wonder if my new words could mean something in the workplace. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had days where I’d like nothing better than to burrito myself into my cubicle; refer to someone’s Power Point presentation as equally enticing as a fresh "package;" and fake a Bobby Hurley to get out of a painful meeting. Fortunately, those days are few and far between.

When I was growing up, my dad always said, "Get into computers." He said it so much that I avoided any and all computer classes in college like the plague. I'm such a rebel.

When I was pregnant, my husband and had already started fantasizing about what our son's career might be. My husband pictured an ethical Senator, as he believes they do still exist. Perhaps even a future presidential candidate the likes of John F. Kennedy.

As for me, I pictured a famous journalist. No less than a Brian Williams, who’s serious enough to travel with the troops, yet holds the sense of humor to host Saturday Night Live and actually be good at it.

Now that he’s four years old, we still believe he could be those things. But we’ve also come to accept the fact that he has his own imagination, and his dreams will be different than ours. At this point, all we can hope is that the word “cubicle” isn’t in his adult vocabulary. Unless of course, he really wants it to be.

Thus was our conversation the other night after giving our boys an empty box and watching what they’d do with it. First, it was a car. Then, a bed for that Elmo doll that sings the annoying, yet catchy, "Pizza Pie" song. Then, turned upside down, a stove with pans atop it. So, if that behavior is a crystal ball, they might be limousine chauffeurs. Doctors caring for a patient. Or the Emeril Lagasses of the next generation.

After they went to bed, we had to laugh. For if it was our box to fantasize with, we know it would have been either a Plinko game or an interactive map with radar. Let me explain.

Fostering imagination in our kids is one of our top priorities. And it shouldn’t be difficult, because my husband and I both have active fantasy lives. When American Idol comes on, I’ve been known to use my wine glass as a microphone and belt out Mariah with the best of them. During the Iowa caucus of 2008, my husband gave me what his concession speech would have been if he were John Edwards.

We often talk about our fantasy careers. In real life, he’s a salesman. Exciting, right? As if my career in corporate communications is one that is oh-so-coveted. For that matter, both salesmen and public relations executives are notorious for being ethically questionable and full of spin. He and I are trying to shatter those perceptions, but it’s not always easy.

So it comes as no surprise that we’ve been known to long for careers that didn’t involve an uphill battle; had nothing to do with cubicles or rental cars; and were easy to explain to our grandmothers. As for me, I dream about being a Barker’s Beauty on The Price is Right. They might be called “Drew’s Dames” or “Carey’s Cuties” today, but the premise remains. Someone else does your hair, makeup and wardrobe every day. You look amazing. You hug grandfather clocks; sit in hot tubs that aren’t filled with water; smile a lot; and wear great jewelry that you’re not responsible for keeping track of.

My husband also dreams of a career in television – as a meteorologist. A man obsessed with weather, he isn’t satisfied with what he should wear the next day unless he’s checked the predictions from ABC, NBC, CBS, the Weather Channel and at least a couple of web sites. He’s a morning person, too, so getting up at 4 a.m. just means he’d get to enjoy a bagel sooner than normal.

Of course, meteorology doesn’t quite hold the same accountability as sales, and that’s quite the selling point. Meteorologists get paid the same salary if they’re only right half the time. On the other hand, commission-based salesmen get nothing if their prospecting efforts are off.

These are just some of the concepts about making career choices that our young sons don't understand yet. I guess all we can do right now is keep the boxes coming.

(This post was originally written for my oldest son, but Lisa Rose Starner's Rapidian article on creativity in classrooms, titled "An SOS (Shape Our Schools) Call to the Creatives, From a Creative" inspired me to revise and repost it.)

In the about section on this blog, I neglected to say that I reserve the right to poke a little fun at my own profession,and to call out the things we do that are less strategic than what I know we're capable of. I love being a public relations practitioner, and from time to time, may point out the obvious things that my "PR peeps" can both start and stop doing. It's for our own good.

Brrrr and Grrrr

Apparently, all people quoted in press releases need to get a grip on what is important in life. These people are “pleased” with everything.

In the spirit of transparency, you should know that I have spent years working in media relations, and I’ve written my share of manufactured quotes starting with the phrase, “I am pleased to announce . . ." But lately, everyone is pleased. Or honored. Or excited. And I’m just annoyed.

In fact, I’d really love it if someone wrote an honest press release about what it’s like to forge a partnership with another company. Let’s say, for the sake of example, that it’s one that involves a team sponsorship. Instead of sending “Arguvent Company Inks Deal with Coleman Crushers,” and everybody in the release talking about how “honored” they are, and what a “great fit” this is for both parties, I would kill to read something like this instead:

Arguvent Company Survives Sponsorship Negotation – Doubts ROI Will Be Proven

Says Arguvent CEO Junior Beckinsworth, “I can’t believe I lived through the endless arbitration and back-and-forth mumbo-jumbo between our two legal departments before we could sign this sponsorship deal.”

Libby Lewis, general manager for the Crushers, agreed. “They kept pushing us on the amount of Jumbo-Tron time they would get during each intermission, and even though we know watching two minutes of their footage is going to be a total turn-off to our fans, we desperately need this money to stay afloat.”

Arguvent is tasking its entire Analytics Department with crunching the numbers just so, so that justification for this new deal can be presented to its Board of Directors. “It’s going to take a lot of creative math,” said Charlene Biph, analytics department manager, “but we’ve got all of our top people working on this.”

I’d also like these press releases to simply stop stating the obvious. One of my favorite lines in similar “news” stories always comes from a marketing person, and usually goes a little something like this: “The Crushers fan base fits the type of consumer we are trying to reach.”

Really? And here, all this time, I thought Arguvent was sponsoring The Crushers because the CEO’s son got cut from the squad; he and the coach had a huge fight; and the multi-million dollar contract was signed as a gesture of peace and goodwill.

Most of these statements simply make me say, “Duh,” which I once defined to an Italian friend who didn’t speak much English as a phrase meaning, “But of course! How could I be so stupid?”

To me, throwing out corporate-speak and expecting it to stick is like the time I put plastic wrap over my broken car window during a blizzard. It didn’t last the 10-minute trip to work. Not to mention, I felt nothing but abused by the wind, wet and cold. Plastic wrap in a blizzard. "Duh" moments in press releases. "Brrrr!" and "Grrrr!"

Perhaps the twelfth thing you didn't know about me is that I used to be a syndicated business humor columnist. Here is an oldie but goodie, with my perspective on my career in companies small, medium and large. Enjoy!

I’ve worked at companies with thousands of employees spanning the globe. I’ve worked at a three-person shop where our CEO did the dishes every Friday. I’ve worked at publicly held vs. private shops, solo mio as a freelancer, and at just about every kind of operation in between.

 Since my primary career goal is to actually enjoy what I’m being paid to do, I thought I’d share my perspective on the most entertaining aspects of each. After all, the benefit of amusement is not something to be taken lightly – especially when the cost of your other benefits continues to rise.

 Here is what I find enjoyable about companies of various sizes.

 Only at a large, multi-national company can you play Euchre on the corporate jet. I believe the folks at Boeing – even though Euchre’s more of a Midwest phenomenon – must appreciate the irony of a spirited match where you get to tell your boss something you’ve always wanted to say: “Thanks, but I’ll go this one alone.”

 Yet at a small start-up company, it would not be unusual to see the person with the most important title on her business card taking the trash down to the dumpster on her way home.

 I liked that. There’s something very satisfying knowing that everyone really is pitching in – pun intended. Besides, it doesn’t make you feel so bad when you wield your own spackle and paint to fix the hole you made when you threw a paperweight against the wall in agony over having not one single person to delegate a big mailing to.

 And my favorite thing about the 20-40 person shops I’ve worked at was – hands down – the Christmas parties.

 When the company is too small, what good is the Christmas party? You don’t have stories to catch up on – you’ve breathed right next to those people all day. Plus, you know you can’t really afford it, so you feel too guilty to order the expensive menu items.

 When the company is too large, it’s even worse. I barely enjoy sharing the Christmas spirit with anyone outside my immediate family, much less people who don’t say hello in the hallway.

I believe the whole purpose of the large company Christmas party is to see who everyone is married to or dating. The one cute guy in IT? Already know he’s gay. The one I see at the gym all the time? His wife is Jillian Michaels’s twin, minus the low-slung camouflage pants. The big company Christmas party is an obligation, not a celebration.

But at a mid-sized company, oh yeah! Bring it on! You know everyone too well to embarrass yourself – so have that third martini. The gifts are usually perfect – not so big as to guilt you into staying through mid-year when you’d planned to indulge your right-to-work elsewhere by February, but not so small as to end up in the keepsake shoebox under your bed, only to be discovered and discarded years later.

While working at a large public company, I enjoyed the freedom to force others to think about what their decisions would look like if recorded, which they probably would be. At a large private company, you and someone in another department can pay for the same service from two different vendors – in my experience, for up to two years – before deciding which one to let stick around.

Good times.

As a freelancer, benefits include getting your daily dose of online comedy without wearing your headphones in case someone drops the “f” bomb, and cutting your toenails during conference calls.

I also – as one of my very first jobs in life – worked at an amusement park, where of course, amusement was the whole point. I fit right in. And while I didn’t enjoy cleaning up people’s vomit, it prepared me for seeing the bright side of every single job I’ve had since – and hopefully, helping you to do the same.

(Reused with permission from the syndicator of my former column, North Star Writers Group.)

Or, maybe you do.

Either way, welcome to my new blog! This is really a test post, but I hope you enjoy it.

I've bolded some specific items that will likely be covered from time to time in this blog.

1.   I am only 4'10". This has resulted in numerous nicknames (Half Pint, Punky Brewster, to name a few) and an amazing ability to laugh at myself.

2.   Half of my total family is adopted, including me, my brother, my father, and my brothers-in-law. I could not be prouder or happier to prove that love is - and always will be - stronger than blood.  

3.  For years, I have sent money to Africa for a sponsored child so that he may attend school.  In return, he recently went from a "C" to an "A" in reading in one semester. And grew taller than me. I microlend because I believe in the power of small, locally-owned business even though I work for a large corporation. 

4.  I lost all of my lifetime photos and keepsakes in a house flood in 2002. I could only be comforted by Finster, my favorite labrador, on that day. But I still have every love letter written to me between 1985-1987. I'm still not sure why they weren't damaged?

5.  I watch Glee and think the cast's version of I Hope it Gives You Hell was the best addition I've made to my running playlist in years.

6.  I have traveled to many of the world's most amazing cities, but I would rather be home with my husband, watching a movie, wrapped in the Cleveland Indians blanket my mom made me.

7.  Although I don't practice often, I am good at interpreting dreams. This is after many years of educating myself on how to do so. I have always had extremely vivid and unforgettable dreams. I have one recurring dream that's been with me since age three. It used to be puzzling, but now it serves as a wonderful reminder that no matter what happens, my subconscious says I'm still the same person.

8.  I have done a lot of things in life to pay my way, starting at age 14 as a bowling alley scorekeeper. I learned all I know about working with people through my multiple menial jobs, and almost nothing through my corporate ones.

9. I believe in ghosts.

10.  My father is dying from cancer, and as much as I try, I am handling the situation extremely poorly.

11.  I wish I had more courage.