Caterwauling

Where are the Doritos?

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Am procrastinating. I find it funny that I signed up for a 25-hour workweek and I spend more time on the ‘puter than I did when I had a “big, important job” back in my day. Lord.

It was an exhausting week, and it ain’t over yet. To quote Jim Belushi something he said to Elizabeth Perkins in “About Last Night,” “If you didn’t have a pussy, there’d be a bounty on your head.”

But luck did roll in my favor on that front this week. Let’s just say that bus tire tracks look very lovely on others.

My friend SilverBlue said something the other day that stuck with me:

“Did you ever notice that the people who Karma has caught up with think that THEY are the victims?”

That made my day. My week, even.

So, here we are at the end of Lent. My goal was to lose 10 pounds through diet and exercise. Unfortunately, I GAINED 10 pounds instead. WTF, yo?

(Dear Shawn Schmuck: let me just get out your “Fattie” comment now, and the “I love to watch you unravel” comment, and the “I have more STDs than a Qwest Laboratory.”)

Anyway.

The problem was, I had started smoking again during Lent. Like, half a pack a day at least. But I haven’t had one in several days, and I find I have some of my energy back. So I took some very long walks over the last couple of days, which I hadn’t done because I was becoming winded far too quickly with the nicotine in my lungs.

The one thing I inadvertently gave up for Lent was my Paxil. I don’t even miss it. It suppressed my dreams and, while I love me some dreamless sleep, I missed the acid-trip images that have since returned to me. Time will tell whether the psychic dreams will return as well, but I’m OK with what I have now.

Some dreams are better than none — whether we’re talking about the ones you have when you’re asleep or those that overtake you during waking hours.

I’m not fully whole again after the disaster hereby known as “the last two years.” But I’m healing. And that’s quite enough for me right now.

My readers clearly know me well, as this appeared in my inbox yesterday. I’m just gonna present it without comment and marvel how eerily familiar this story is. …

Twelve Ways Leaders Fail New Managers
When you place a colleague or a new hire into a management position, you’d better not abandon the poor soul

By Jeff Schmitt

It’ll be the toughest conversation you’ll ever have. A year earlier (Goddess’ note: Or nine months), you introduced the new manager to the team, rattling off her credentials and virtues. You even joked that you’d report to her one day. Now, sitting across the table, you can barely look at her. You have so much to say, but all you can squeeze out is: “It’s not working out.”

You came ready for a brawl, expecting unflattering accusations to be flung back at you. Instead, it ended with awkward small talk and a flaccid hand shake. But you won’t be able to shake the guilt. There was always some issue that took precedence over your manager. You tolerated too much and turned up the heat too late. Deep inside you know the truth: She never had a chance.

You failed her.

When you elevate someone to management, you’re subtly telling your employees: This is the person you should aspire to be. Your employees regard this person as your voice, a direct reflection on you as a leader. Too often, leaders forget that management entails a major transition, requiring a new mentality and skill set. It proves particularly trying for stars, who frequently distinguish themselves through production and quality. Instead, they must step back and coax others to do the work, becoming advocates—if not referees and buffers—for their reports.

Read the rest of the article here. Yes, YOU.

For what it’s worth, this is more aimed at failing new managers, not experienced ones. But starting over again in a new company *is* like becoming a new manager.

Like I told one of my friends, when you hire someone in at an executive level, you should NEVER tell them, “I won’t trust you until X. And maybe THEN I will let you do what I basically hired you to do.” It was the first bucket of cold water on my passion to succeed. I looked past it. I looked past a lot of buckets that eventually contained Nickelodeon-esque green slime.

When you bring in someone at an executive level, let them make executive decisions. Let them fail or founder or, gasp, succeed. Don’t stop them before they do anything that uses the high-dollar skills you hired them for. Don’t yell at them for spending hours upon hours making your content better and editing out the shit that would otherwise GET YOU SUED. Don’t basically ignore the ideas and insights that they share in an attempt TO MAKE YOUR BUSINESS SUCCEED.

And don’t fire them because you don’t like them. Because their staff will no doubt see all the good work that was done, the initiative that was shown (or attempted to be shown) and they will probably put their heads down and avoid the path of the tornado at all costs.

I’m not bitter. I’m really not. Walking out with my head held high (as I didn’t fight back either. Not my style. And, I was kind of grateful to be done with it), I worried most about my “kids.” What this would say to them. The ideas that will never see the light of day. The glimmers of hope and trust and excitement that they were starting to show me. I hope that didn’t end. But I wouldn’t be surprised if it did.

I hope my own business takes off. Because I’d hire at least two thirds of them, if I could. Yes, with my own money. THAT is how confident I was of their capabilities.

I think it says something when the only people a CEO wouldn’t fire would be the first ones on my list to wave bye-bye to. That when I was getting belittled for giving too many chances to my people, I was giving just as many to absolutely everyone else.

Chew on that. …

Women in power are just wrong. I get why everyone wants us back in the kitchens. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if the next political uprising was over the proposed revoking of the women’s suffrage movement.

Given some of the people I’ve dealt with lately, I might be willing to give up my right to vote if it meant getting THEM out of the workforce and FAR AWAY from the ballot box.

I wasted four hours last night and four hours this morning over just the most inane shit. I don’t care how old or young anyone is — just don’t try to bullshit me that you know more than I do, when you are literally going to the Web for “helpful tips” on how to do the job I have been doing since you were in middle school.

I had all my work done on one project at 5 p.m. yesterday. It is now 1:30 p.m. and I’ve had enough of the quibbling/squabbling/mind-changing/hemming/hawing/whining/”just trying to help”-ing and CC’ing my friend the CEO on how you hate everything I’ve done that YOU TOLD ME TO DO IN THE FIRST PLACE.

And I did it better. That has to be the sticking point. It certainly is on every other day.

I’ve been standing up for myself. I’ve had it with mood swings and egos and shit. But damn, the emotional toll it takes when people are fighting to prove how much book knowledge they have (and, ergo, why they are omniscient or omnipotent or, more appropriately, just plain ominous).

And seriously, do not think for one second that I don’t forward dippy e-mails to every state in the continental U.S. You better get good at your job because you will NOT be getting another.

One of these days, I really need to have a “Come to Jesus” with our mutual friend about this b.s. But right now, I have to walk out of the house and leave my phone inside it so that I don’t make that call in as much of an utterly pissed off mood as I am right now.

Of course, as my beloved Lady T said to me, “Don’t let her take up real estate in your mind. She can’t afford it, and neither can you.”

Words to live by, kids. If you can’t pay penthouse prices, get off my ass and out of my brain. Because we haven’t hit the threshold where I am paid enough (or anything) to deal with your crap, and I’m letting you take away time from the assignment that IS paying the rent.

I understand men now when they scoff, “Ugh! Women!!!” This is why I’ll never go gay — I can’t TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!

Just heard we lost one of our own in the industry. What a mindfuck. One, that he’s gone (because he was all sorts of awesome), and two, he was young. Like, not a whole hell of a lot older than me.

I was just texting with a BFF we shared. My friend is just blown away right now that his bud is gone. To boot, he’s only a couple years younger. And he lost his dad at the same age his friend was … the same age as Tim Russert, who happened to be a travel buddy of my friend as well. (What can I say? I know people who know people!)

(And how I envy him being friends with Russert. …)

No words of wisdom here. Just sad that a good guy is gone too soon. And grateful to have crossed paths with him. And all-too-aware that someday HAS to be today when it comes to finding what makes us happy.

RIP, Joey B.

My balcony, now with foliage!

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I talk to my old pastor on occasion. I’ve pretty much stopped going to church these days, so I get some grief about that. But I’m taking my liberties when it comes to taking her advice on taking time to “do me.”

It’s been NUTS at Chez Caterwauling these past few days. I’m loving it, of course. I can forget about all the external drama and really channel my creativity into a huge project we’re launching on Sunday. God, I feel alive again.

I’ve been working since 6:30 a.m., after stopping somewhere around 1 a.m. last night. But it’s fun. It really is. I just got my paycheck in the mail and had to stop myself from thanking my boss for the opportunity to be a part of this wonderful odyssey.

As it should be, friends. Mark my words.

I just jumped off a two-hour call (after an hour-long call before it), and both are with old, old friends.

My latest caller stopped me in mid-sentence over something — I literally had the million-dollar idea and presented it almost apologetically. WTF?

He said, “Wow, did that series of fuckheads in Florida do a number on you!”

Knowing me very well, he said he can tell I’ve lost my way. I went from busting his balls two years ago to meekly suggesting that perhaps we can maybe, I dunno, think about incorporating this idea.

I got the pep talk of a lifetime. That I have always had the talent and skills. That I’ve clearly multiplied them since we last worked together. But that my management style has changed so very dramatically.

Hmm.

He’s right. I foundered greatly at Graceland/Den of Iniquity. You can’t reason with crazy. So, I didn’t. I hid in my corner and managed the most-difficult person possible. But we made it work — I busted his chops right back, and I am literally the only person he respects in our entire industry. So, yay.

But then, my friend said I must have inherited a lot of dead weight at the next job. I said I did, to some degree. But I was so sick of watching those kids get beaten down that I made it my mission to build them up … with the intent of THEN figuring out who should stay or go.

For the most part, people did raise their game. They didn’t realize that they COULD, nor that this initiative wasn’t punishable by death after all. Who knew?

But he assessed me pretty right. He said he could tell I was raising m own game all along — I just didn’t really let on to anyone how much I did, how much I knew and, worst of all, how much more I was capable of.

I guess while I was giving my people a voice, I muffled my own.

But, that’s not a bad thing, right? My new boss and colleagues shower me with compliments and I ask them to stop. Because I don’t feel like I’m doing anything extraordinary. My job is to come up with million-dollar ideas — why the hell are you people throwing me a parade when I do?

And that last sentence points toward untold amounts of dysfunction.

I had a huge victory yesterday. A marketing campaign I’m working on got 1,000 click-throughs within the first couple hours of being live … and then an 86% conversion rate.

That is HUGE.

Considering that we had budgeted for 150 click-throughs and maybe 80 conversions, let me say it again, THAT IS HUGE.

I was thinking about the freelance job that I quit, how I produced well-researched, creative and ready-to-publish deliverables. And the stupid bitch of a marketing consultant who was hired AFTER I signed on as a copywriter said that I suck, pure and simple.

Meanwhile, I’m destroying all the crap OUR copywriter turns in and I’m turning into a fucking money-making machine.

Proving once and for all that if you people had just left me the fuck alone, I would have doubled the profitability of the last three businesses that I no longer work for.

The thing is, my fate rides on this. My contract is done in four weeks. God bless these people for paying my retainer up front. But if this thing flops, I don’t know how to pay rent in June.

Now, realistically, it’s all going to work out wonderfully and I’ll be able to breathe. One thing that is nice is that I’ll be paid on the merits of my own work, and not — as some people seemed to believe — because I was at their mercy.

Oh, I remember what made my friend mad. When I came up with my second million-dollar idea in one conversation, I joked that, whew, thank God I was able to prove I was paying attention. WOW did that set him off!

He said that I need to reframe the past two years of my life. That those companies driving me out was GREAT for my identity. That I spent half my day trying to figure out how NOT to get yelled at was a waste of all the abilities lying dormant.

Perhaps I will start sending out those thank-you cards after all!

Well, back to “work,” if you can call it that. (And I really don’t.) I have another million to make today — and I’ve got another rabbit waiting to jump out of my hat. …