The Art of Being Prepared

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I have always been one to plan ahead, especially when it comes to travel.  Must be my years of Girl Scout training, when we had to anticipate all possible outcomes for our camping adventures.  Being unprepared is not in my psyche; in fact I over-prepare.  No food on the plane? No problem; I’ve brought snacks. Boredom?  Again a non-issue since I carry at least one book and a couple magazines, as well as an iPad, to keep me entertained.  Thirsty?  A large bottle of water makes the trip too. While the airlines have been cutting back on the amenities, I seriously doubt I need to carry a shovel to dig my own latrine like I did sometimes in scouting.

A recent business trip had me reviewing my preparedness initiative as I lugged my handbag and tote to the gate.  What the heck do I have in there? I thought.  Looking into my purse, one would think I was never going to see civilization again. Stuffed to the top, it no longer resembled a handbag but more like an emergency supply kit that the Red Cross would envy.

Aside from the normal items including my wallet, lip gloss and boarding pass, here’s what I found:

–          Breath mints (okay, not so unusual)

–          Tissues (just in case and for a variety of uses)

–          Granola bar

–          Bag of almonds

–          Chocolate (always a must-have)

–          Hand lotion (you know how dry the air gets on a plane)

–          Hand sanitizer (I’m not going to trust others to be clean much less any surfaces. It is cold and flu season, you know.)

–          Bottle of water for hydration, despite the fact that I always order a beverage when the flight attendants come by with the cart

–          Large shawl  (in case it’s cold on the plane)

–          Neck scarf (also for too much AC)

–          Headphones in case there’s a movie or I need to avoid a chatty seatmate

–          Aspirin and throat lozenges

–          An herbal tea bag

–          Toothbrush/toothpaste

My tote bag is another story.  Suffice it to say I was prepared enough that my luggage could make a side-trip to another location and I would not be upset.  No wonder my arms were aching by the time I sat down on the plane.  And I didn’t have a laptop with me!

The good news is that I enjoyed a nice flight with my own snacks while others clamored for the pricey pre-wrapped sandwiches offered by the airline.  I was entertained with my reading materials while others pouted since the TV monitors were not working and therefore no in-flight movie.

What does this have to do with a layoff or a job search?  Not much I guess, except that I thought you should know about my preparedness plan.  Just in case any of you need to travel to a job interview.

All You Need is a Grease Board

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I’ll admit it- I’m a planner.  In both my personal life as well as my business life, I like to plan.  I may as well confess that I still keep a paper calendar too.  Before you start pinging me with notes asking me to join you in the all-electronic 21st century, let me explain that I use both an e-calendar as well as a paper calendar.  The e-calendar is glorious in that I’m notified of meetings and it’s easily accessible with a smart phone. Yet the paper version is more important to me. It’s like keeping a journal that includes both personal and work-related stuff.  This may seem like double work to many, yet for me it’s a link to all that’s happened in my life.  I save the paper calendars and have fun looking at them occasionally to see what happened oh-so-many years ago.

Sounds like all I do is plan, huh? Don’t get me wrong. There’s a part of me that loves being spontaneous and free, especially in my social life.  Hubby and I are THE WORST at planning for weekend fun, so spontaneity in this area is great.  It’s the other part of me – the business side – that wants to think things through in advance.   My comfort level increases if I’ve had time to strategize, look at different scenarios and truly understand the situation as well as possible outcomes.  Flying by the seat of my pants is not in my comfort zone when it comes to business decisions.

So you can imagine my distress when I was laid-off.  I found planning to be more difficult without a work setting.  Maybe it’s because meetings and deadlines just naturally happen at the office.  Not so much when you’re adjusting to life as a professional job-seeker.  Thank goodness I discovered my passion for writing.  As CEO of my blog, I imposed deadlines to keep me on schedule, which in turn helped me schedule job search activities.

Then I had the crazy idea to write a book.  Seemed simple enough, so I tried to incorporate that into my schedule. It turns out that writing was the easy part.  It was everything else that had me puzzled.  Questions plagued me: what are the steps to publishing, where do you get an editor, how will I fund this project, how does one distribute a book, much less promote it?  So I went back to my roots, planning with paper and pen, or in this case, a grease board.

Similar to writing plans on a paper calendar, writing things out on a board helped me sort through the questions as well as the things I already knew and basically make a plan.  A plan to publish a book.  This was terrifying to me, because I knew that once there was a written plan where I could see it, it was time to sink or swim.  If I didn’t follow through, my written plan would be a nasty reminder that I had failed.  And failure, to me, was not an option.

Even though my plan seemed ridiculous (what did I know about writing a book?), I started scribbling. My beautiful grease board, full of boxes and lines and words.  New career goals were also positioned on this board; hopes and dreams.  The board was placed in the garage in front of my car so every time I pulled in or backed out I had to look at it.  A big reminder not to fail.

And you know what? All that planning I learned early in my career paid off.  Book? Done!  Speaking engagements? Done! Board member? Done!  Even the ticky-tacky details are done.  And with all this planning came job opportunities.  The lesson here is that even those of us in The Land of Layoff need a plan.

I used to say, “Plan the work and work the plan”.  Guess I’m going to brush off that saying and use it again.

New Year’s Resolutions: Fantasy vs. Reality

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Happy New Year!  Here it is, January 2nd, and I’ve already broken one of my resolutions.  I ate way too much yesterday, and not the good stuff either.  I deluded myself into thinking this was acceptable because it was a holiday, and it’s a tradition to over-eat on holidays.  Apparently the cheese dip went to my head and I just couldn’t stop myself.  It was so yummy.

But now I’m paying for it. Stomach in knots and banging my head against the wall as I realize I am not good at New Year’s resolutions.  Oh, I’m great at making them; it’s keeping them that’s the problem. Each year I try to make realistic resolutions, ones that stand a chance of being kept, and each year on December 31st I’m disappointed in myself for not sticking to the resolutions.  Honestly, I wonder why I even bother with these things.

Maybe the New Year’s resolutions aren’t the problem.  Maybe it’s that my results don’t match up with the goals I’ve set.   Apparently my expectations are based on fantasy, whereas the results are based in reality.  Let’s take a look and see where I went wrong this past year:

1)      Eat healthier.  This is always a good resolution.  My fantasy expectation was to bring healthy, nutritious lunches to work; to incorporate fresh vegetables and fruits with every meal.  Reality:  I brought my lunch more (yay), but most of the time it included tortilla chips.  Yes, they are made of corn but I don’t think they count as a veggie.  My guacamole intake also increased, and while avocados are considered a fruit (and since they are green I think they double as a veggie), too much of a good thing is a negative for the waistline.

2)      Exercise More.  In January Hubby and I started out great, with yoga classes, treadmills and weights. Hubby even took on the scary P90X program with much success.   Then somewhere along the way, reality kicked in.  Going to the gym became boring; work got in the way; sometimes it was too hot to exercise and other days it was too cold; the yoga teacher left town (hopefully not because of us) – the list of excuses goes on and on.   I even convinced myself that, being naturally small, I didn’t really need to worry about the gym.  LOL!  I must have been delusional from too much guacamole.

3)      Lose Weight/get in shape.  The reality of this resolution is that I would have lost five pounds and that I would have exercised enough to be toned and able to run three miles easily.  My fantasy expectation is that I would by now look like a super model with abs of steel and be in contention for a top finish in the Iron Man.  Of course neither the reality nor the fantasy version happened.  Duh – see the results of resolutions 1 & 2.

4)      Clean/organize the house.  In general our house is in pretty good shape.  But like everyone, we have a few spaces that always seem to be cluttered; a dumping ground of sorts for miscellaneous stuff.  My fantasy is that my house will be pristine and perfect; that House Beautiful could come take photos at anytime without one item out of place.  Reality?  The closet doors shut tightly enough to conceal most of the stuff, the couch is clear so people can sit down and the dog hair is kept to a minimum. 

5)      Save money.  This is always a top priority for us, one that we usually stick to.  But something happened this year and we’ve seen more money exit the accounts than we’d like.  Fantasy is that we would have only spent on necessities and saved the rest.   Reality is that the new shoe styles spoke to me more than usual this year, so my feet are happy but at the expense of the checkbook.

6)      Reconnect with friends.  You’d think this would be easy, since we have so many friends living within a 45 minute drive. Fantasy – I would have had at least one lunch with 10 different friends over the course of the year. That didn’t happen this year.  Reality is that I took more of a passive approach, sending notes that said “we’ve got to get together”.  Even had some follow-up notes trying to schedule a time.  But you know that drive time is something to consider, not to mention conflicting schedules.  And those with kids need to plan for such an outing, unlike me, who can be fairly spontaneous.  Sigh. I’m not going to win any “best friend” contest here.

It might be best to condense my 2013 resolutions down to one:  In 2013 I’ll visit the gym once a month, bring an apple to snack on at work once a week, I’ll have lunch with two friends during the year eating vegetable plates to stay healthy, I won’t look at the spare rooms in our house so the clutter will no longer bother me and I’ll only buy new shoes that are an absolute necessity.

Yeah, right. Like that’s really gonna happen.

Holiday Time-Out

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Merry Christmas!  Happy Hanukah! Happy Kwanza!  Hope you are enjoying the holidays.  Even those of you who celebrate Festivus – you know, the “holiday for the rest of us”.  I hope you watch Seinfeld reruns so you’ll understand what I mean.

I’m taking some time off and I hope you’ll join me.  Not lots of time; just a few days over the holidays to sit back and enjoy the season.  It’s great for all of us to take time off from thinking about work, or lack thereof, a job search, looking at job boards, polishing the resume and thinking about new opportunities.

For me and Hubby, we want to simply think about and appreciate what we have – and hopefully you can do the same.  When we think we have it bad, which is easy to do sometimes, especially when there’s no job, remember that there’s always someone who has it worse.  And if we think that others have it better than we do, we need to remember that things aren’t always as they appear. Besides, we shouldn’t be comparing ourselves to others anyway.

However you celebrate the season, enjoy!  I’m wishing you all the best.

There Are No Words

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(Today is a departure from my usual humor. Bear with me; this means a lot to me.)

Here I am, sitting on the sidelines. A spectator at an event I don’t wish to attend.  None of us want to be here yet here we are, smiling, trying to be supportive.  People move in and out, some we know and some we don’t know, in a slow dance to which the steps are unknown.  Words usually come easy for me yet now they fail me.  I have nothing to say; there are no words.

Funerals are never easy. This one is particularly difficult for so many reasons.  The young life that tragically ended way too soon; my friend, the young widow and her baby that are left behind; the realization that my life, like hers, could be changed in an instant.  And I sit on the sidelines, no words to be found.

Unfortunately death is not new to me.  However, I feel this one more deeply than even my own father’s.  This one has touched something deep in my soul.  My heart thumps louder than normal, almost out of my chest.  My mind is restless, unable to think of anything but my friend.  Time seems to move slowly and at the same time rapidly.  I am heartbroken for her.

Usually I’m in charge. I’m the one people look to for direction, to handle tough situations.  My friend needs me now, needs me to be the one to take care of things.  I’m trying to push my feelings aside in order to help yet a cloud is following me, clogging my mind, and I can’t seem to emerge from the fog. I can’t fix this. Not this time.  And I have no words.

I know what’s to come in the following minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years.  Time suddenly moves slowly, yet it moves on.  We all have to move forward even though we don’t want to.  I want to shout from the highest mountain, asking the universe to stop and give us time.  Yet it keeps going.

Sitting on the sidelines, I understand that we will, eventually, be peaceful again. At some point we will have happy thoughts and conversations that don’t dwell on today. But I am impatient since there are no words; I want that time to be now, without the journey laid out before us. 

I will get up from the sidelines and help my friend.  That’s best for her and it’s best for me.  Still, there are no words.

Come on Everybody Let’s do the Samba

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When Hubby and I were laid-off, one of our first concerns was staying healthy. We didn’t want to end up as couch potatoes eating countless bags of chips all day while watching TV talk shows focused on Baby Mama Drama. Tempting, I know. Who doesn’t want to watch strangers air their dirty laundry?

Hubby focused on exercise like he was training for the Olympics. A fan of the at-home exercise DVD, he would sweat out daily workouts with the dog. Well, Hubby did all the sweating. The dog played the role of the coach. Similarly, when I was laid-off I took advantage of the daytime classes offered at the gym. It was a great way to break the monotony of searching for a job. Besides, I wanted to see who all these people were who could spend the day at the gym.

Now that we are both working again our exercise routines have slipped. Combine that with the fact that our favorite yoga instructor decided to take a dream job teaching at a spa in Costa Rica (hard to believe, I know), and we are finding it difficult to stay motivated.

While searching for alternative ways to exercise, I stumbled upon a dance studio that included classes for adults – that don’t involve a pole. Perfect, I thought! I used to be a dancer; this is just what I need to jump start my exercise program. Scanning the options, it was hard to choose. There’s Zumba, but I had done that before and was not impressed. Hip Hop sounded fun but I had a schedule conflict; even Bollywood sounded interesting. But it was the Samba class that spoke to me, calling my name. I imagined picking up the steps easily, my body becoming toned with abs of steel like the pros on Dancing with the Stars. Yep, that was the class for me.

I showed up a bit early and the instructor asked if I was ready for this. “It’s going to be difficult since this is your first class. Are you sure you are ready?” she said. What? Who does she think I am? Of course I’m ready! “Bring it!” I boldly stated.

I took a place in the back of the room, not wanting to show off too much. After all, these younger women may not have had the same dance training that I had many years ago. The music started and a gentleman with beautiful long hair that most women would envy instantly began an aerobics routine that was high-impact on steroids. No problem, I thought. I can do this, although it’s not exactly dancing.

Suddenly the music changed and without any instruction everyone began wildly dancing to certain eight count combinations. Didn’t matter if they were eight or sixteen count to me; I was just trying to watch the instructors’ feet to figure out what to do. And silly me; I was thinking Samba as seen on DWTS, more of a ballroom dance. This was Samba for single people who are regulars on the club scene, dancing until the wee hours and still getting up in time for work.

The guy with the pretty hair stopped and the woman instructor started. Not fair, I thought! They get to tag-team and take a break from the frenetic pace of this so-called dance. Still believing in myself I moved my hips, feet, arms and legs as fast as possible, actually keeping up with the class. You’ve still got it girl, I thought to myself. Never mind that the only word I could understand through their thick accents was “Samba”; I had figured out that this word was the signal to move your feet faster than the speed of light. Not sure if I was actually doing the right steps but I was moving.

Just as I was beginning to get the hang of the dance and shaking everything I’ve got, I felt a “snap” under my shirt. Hmmm, wonder what that was? I kept dancing and moving and shaking, until I realized that my bra had snapped and I was indeed shaking all over. Mortified, I Samba’d my way off the dance floor, searching for a bathroom to try and remedy the situation.

Back on the dance floor I continued to move and shake and shimmy while hoping my bra held up. Finally the music stopped. Every cheered “Samba” and I was invigorated from this class. Who am I kidding? I was exhausted, drenched in sweat and my face was the color of a lobster. My hair was so wet I looked as though I’d taken a swimming class instead.

“Are you staying for the next class?” the instructor asked. “Uh, maybe not this time,” I stammered and I tried to steady myself enough to walk. Once home, Hubby looked up as I came through the door. Noticing my red face and drenched hair, he asked “How was the class? Looks like it was a good workout.”

Little does he know, huh? I challenged him to try the class and see if he could move and shake like the guy with the long hair. Hubby didn’t say a word. He knew better. And he also knew that he would have to help me out of bed the next morning so I could Samba my way into work.

It’s hard to stay in shape, isn’t it?

From Unemployment to Author: You’ve Read the Blog, Now Get the Book!

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What am I doing?  I’ve asked myself this over and over since the layoff.  The day I was laid-off seemed surreal.  It was somewhat terrifying, although as I’ve said before, I just knew that somehow, some way, things would work out for the best. Where I got this confidence, I don’t know.  If I did, I would package it and go on the talk-show circuit to promote it.

As my journey through the Land of Layoff progressed, I noticed lots of funny, humorous things about work, or really my lack thereof.  One awesome by-product of this journey was that I discovered writing for fun, and with the encouragement of Hubby and others I started chronicling my experience in my blog, “Tales of the Terminated”. You’ve read the stories: the phone interview that went horribly wrong, the parallel universe of networking events and my many freak-outs. I was encouraged by followers who told me they enjoyed reading my stories; that they could relate to my tales of unemployment and job search. While I enjoyed writing, honestly I thought it was a fun hobby and nothing more.  Until now.

It’s been almost two years since that fateful day I stepped into unemployment, and my life is great.  Life in the Land of Layoff happens in stages, and I’m happy to tell you that I’ve taken the next step.  You’ve read the blog, now you can get the book:  “Tales of the Terminated: A Humorous Look at Life After a Layoff” is now available for purchase! Amazon, iTunes, Barnes & Noble.com, Kindle, Nook, paperback, e-version – you name it.

I would love for you to share this with your friends, colleagues, family – anyone!  “Like” us on Facebook, follow on Twitter. Keep reading because I intend to keep writing.

Thank you for your continued support and encouragement.  I’m grateful to have you.

There’s No Crying in Blogging

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Each week I set aside specific times to write, marking this time as a meeting on my calendar so I stay on track. Usually this works well.  There are also unscheduled occasions when an idea hits me and I run to the computer to let my thoughts flow.  Sometimes, when I’m not near my computer, I have to reach for the nearest piece of paper and jot my thoughts down while they’re fresh in my mind.  In any case, I’ve got a system for accomplishing my writing goals.
And today is writing day.  It’s a great day for it, too.  Weather’s cold and bit cloudy; a great day to stay inside.  Coffee in hand, I log on to the computer, ready for whatever brilliant, creative idea hits me.
Yep, I’m ready. Any second now the creative juices will flow.  Here we go.  OK, just a minute more.  Ready, set, write!
Tick-tock, the clock seems to be urging me to write, to do something.  Anything.
I look through all my notes, things that I jot down from time to time.  Usually there’s creative inspiration somewhere on these scraps of paper.   
I’m not sure what’s wrong. It’s like my brain has locked up, unable to think, unable to do anything. I can’t even seem to move in my chair.
Panic starts to set in as I know that I need to write.  The more I panic, the less creative I become.   
I stand up from my desk. I stretch. I walk outside for a minute. Pet the dog. Play solitaire. Look at a magazine.  Close my eyes and try to imagine the story flowing effortlessly through my fingers and onto the page.
Suddenly it occurs to me that I may not be able to write anything today.  Not possible! It’s on the schedule. It’s “writing day”.  I massage my temples, eyes closed.  Must…write…creatively.
Now I’m frantic.  What will I do if I can’t write something?  Tick-tock, tick-tock.  Now the clock seems to be mocking me, making fun of my inability to write on command. Why do we still have a clock that makes noise? Shouldn’t that be digital?
As the minutes slip by I become paralyzed in front of my desk.  I realize the sky is dark, getting close to evening.  Here I sit, alone in the dark, in front of a blank computer screen – no witty words on the page.  Fear of failure creeps in.   I can feel my lips begin to quiver as a lone tear runs down my cheek.
The door opens and Hubby comes in.  “What’s wrong?” he asks.  “Why are you sitting in the dark?”  At that point the sobbing begins as I tell him I’m done.  No more writing for me; apparently I’ve used up all the creative ideas in my mind.  Forever.  Writing, my favorite creative endeavor, must be over.  My shoulders shake as the feeling of failure envelopes me.
As gently as possible, Hubby tries to console me.  He knows to tread lightly.  One time, early in our marriage, he encountered a similar situation and in an attempt to help get me moving forward again he told me to “buck up, little soldier”.  As many of you know, these are not the words a woman wants to hear when she’s in need of consoling.  Let’s just say that was not a good night for Hubby.
Smarter and wiser this time, he hugs me and holding my face in his hands he says simply, “there’s no crying in blogging”. 
I don’t know about you, but this does not seem like the best time for a baseball analogy, does it? 
Yet I know he’s right, even if I don’t want to admit it.  Writing is fun to me. This is what drives me to get up. It challenges me and forces me to think about things in a different way.  Why should I cry over something that I enjoy so much?
Again, it’s that fear of failure creeping in.  Especially since the lay-off.  I’m even more driven to succeed than before, and the pressure I put on myself is probably a bit much. 
Will I ever lose the fear?  I hope so.  And Hubby’s right; I’ll get my creative juices flowing again.  This is simply a temporary set-back. 
I still think there can be crying in blogging.  After all, it got me to write this post. 
© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Happy Birthday to My Blog

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A year ago today, Hubby and I were sitting in the home office, trapped in the house due to an ice-storm.  Both of us were at our computers. He was working; I was surfing the net for job opportunities and playing the occasional game of solitaire.  As I tried to stay warm, it dawned on me that exactly one year earlier I had been laid off. 
I started thinking about my year and remembered that only a few months earlier I had begun to write about my journey through unemployment. The intention was that I would start a blog.  But I let my personal doubts and fears creep in, thinking “why would anyone want to read this?” and “I’ll be embarrassed to let anyone read my writing”.     
I guess the ice storm froze all my fears, and as we shivered in the home office I plugged in the flash drive loaded with my writing.  Overcome by a moment of bravery, I wrote my first blog post and alerted the world through Facebook. 
Immediately I regretted my decision, certain that friends across the country were laughing at my writing.  Fear was back. I pulled a blanket over my head so no one could see me cry.
Within seconds I had my first response.  Hubby had to read it to me; I was too nervous.  “It’s good!” he said.  “They like your post”.  
A tiny bit of courage started pushing my fear aside.  A few days later I wrote another post and broadened my audience.  More good response and lots of encouragement from friends to keep writing. Tales of the Terminated™ was born!
It’s been a year of writing and I’ve loved every minute of it.  My heart-felt thanks to everyone for your encouragement and support.  My writing has been fun as well as therapeutic.  It brought the opportunity to write a monthly column for the paper.  And most surprising of all, it has helped me find work. 
Funny to think that my personal tales from the lay-off have provided a silver lining to an otherwise dark cloud.   
Tales of the Terminated™ is far from done. I’ve got so many personal tales as a result of the lay-off.  And I’m no longer afraid to share my thoughts and observations with the rest of the world.
Happy 1st Birthday, Tales of the Terminated™.  I’m so proud of you.
© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved