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Stop Packing: Moving In May Disrupt Your Parent's Marriage

On the cusp of President Obama's inaguaration, I can't help but wonder if everything is changing, shouldn't our career advice about Gen Y be changing as well? Sure we'd like to think it's new-age and modern and "different," but perhaps the foundation was based on a relentlessly optimistic economic time and place.   Maybe it just doesn't fit anymore. 

Instead of creating posts to further reiterate past stances, perhaps it's time to see some object them.  Someone needs to acknowledge that the expiration date around generational ideologies is narrowing every day.  Even the ones that ooze cool and rebel against the system.  Is it still a good idea to be picky? Maybe, but only if your personality can handle it.  Is it still a good idea to job hop? Maybe, but only if you're ready for some criticism from those who may not understand the logic. 

In the end, mental effects are far greater than career ones. What it boils down to is this: Do you know yourself well enough to be brazen?

I dont believe career advice will ever be cut and dry again.  That being said, I've been thinking about the new-age advice about moving in with my parents.  It's been hailed as the new black, the thing to do for college grads, and a great way to build a rainy day fund.  But lately I've been thinking it may not be the greatest idea, especially since I read this article in the NY Times about what happens to a marriage after the children leave the nest.

The answer, my dear friends, is that the marriage actually improves.  In fact, the article states that having you to begin with is what started your parents on the road to unhappiness. 

Indeed, one of the more uncomfortable findings of the scientific study of marriage is the negative effect children can have on previously happy relationships. Despite the popular notion that children bring couples closer, several studies have shown that marital satisfaction and happiness typically plummet with the arrival of the first baby.

The article contiues to delve into the long-term results.  In other words, you moving back in seals the deal (emphasis mine):

In the empty-nest study, researchers compared the women’s marital happiness in their 40s, when many still had children at home; in their early 50s, when some had older children who had left home; and in their 60s, when virtually all had empty nests. At every point, the empty nesters scored higher on marital happiness than women with children still at home.

She notes that the lesson from the empty nest may be that parents need to work to carve out more stress-free time together. In the sample studied, it was only relationship satisfaction that improved when children left home. Over all, parents were just as happy with children at home as in the empty nest. (What happens when adult children move back home, their job prospects having evaporated in a brutal economy, has not been extensively studied.)

I wonder if moving back home is going to ruin my parents marriage?

I mean, in all honesty, I never really asked if I could.  I posted the idea on my blog and assumed my dad read it.  He reads all my posts and is quick to offer an opinion.  Since he didn't immediately refute it, I, again, assumed they wouldn't mind.  Yes there were a lot of assumptions, but I didn't feel guilty because I don't plan on staying long.  The guilt only set in when I realized that sometimes even the best laid plans have flaws. 

I would like to think that I add a bit of much needed energy around the house.  When I'm there I still run errands as a dutiful child should.  This weekend I went to Dunkin' Donuts for Mom when she was craving a lemon-filled snack.  I also ran to the grocery store for Dad when he felt like Sam Adams would be the only one to truly understand his woes.  Heck, I even bought them a brand new, highly coveted Wii Fit, not because they needed it, but because all the cool parents have one.

Now here's where the idea of parent/child needs gets interesting...  

Let me first say that my independence is something I've prided myself on.   My never-say-die mentality is recognized and appreciated by many.  Yet and still, when the engine light came on my car, I called Daddy.  When my pants needed a hem, I called Mommy.  I didn't call because I needed them specifically, but because they were there.  Surely if I was in Charlotte I would've called the appropriate professional and taken care of it  myself.  But I wasn't.  I was at home. 

Perhaps I've just missed the convenience of having someone with your best interests in mind within arms reach.  Perhaps there really is a co-dependence or, perhaps that's the way families who live, pray, and eat together are.  It's hard for me to tell anymore.  I wouldn't know anymore.  

So I asked my best friend over lunch how it feels to live at home. She is one who not only lives with her parents, but also works in the same building as her mother--for the same company.  If anyone would know about a potential parent overload it would be her.  She tells me it's not that bad.  She says there are times when she feels "trapped," but they are few and far between. 

"Trapped?" I reply,  "I am, what they call, a free spirit--I don't do well with trapped..."

Now I'm struggling.  I'm not anxious, but I'm not calm either.  It's like being in the midst of a storm and feeling afraid to look out the window because you don't know whether it's passed, or whether you're just in the eye.  Do I relax and adjust? Or do I brace myself and hold on for the rest? 

I refer back to the article for in search of some comfort.  Surely the writer would not just denounce children who move back in and the parents who accept them.  Surely the writer would keep searching for proof in order to prevent alienating such a large segment of readers. 

I soon find renewed faith in the journalist as I read this gem:

“Kids aren’t ruining parents’ lives,” Dr. Gorchoff said. “It’s just that they’re making it more difficult to have enjoyable interactions together.” 

What a relief.  Thanks Dr. G.  And thank you NY Times. I can deal with being difficult.

Now where's the research for the effects on the children? Sign me up for the case study!

Once Upon A Time, There Was a Pilot And a President-Elect...

 I wrote a post about the inspiration that comes from finding renewed faith in old things, and then I read about this.  All day I watched in awe and an overwhelming sense of patriotism took over.  Reading about saving lives is inspirational--the kind of inspirational that supercedes the post I wrote while sitting in my pj's eating cheesecake.  More importantly, the kind of inspirational that changes what you post on your blog. 

Anyway, I can imagine the level of responsibility the pilot must have felt to not only his passengers, but to their families.  And on top of that, to his family, his crew, his instructors and any person who has influenced his life in some way.  I know that feeling well, I think. 

That plane was headed to Charlotte.  I'm not sure why that matters to me so much, but it does.  Perhaps it's because the possibility that I could've known someone on the flight is that much greater.  Or perhaps it's because I love a great story.  Either way, the only word I can use to describe what I'm feeling is pride.  I'm proud of the pilot, and I'm proud of the journalists who decided that this, this is news. 

Not too long after the tears dried, I began reading again (go figure), and came across this beauty.  President-Elect Barack Obama has written a letter to his daughters. 

Dear Malia and Sasha,

I know that you've both had a lot of fun these last two years on the campaign trail, going to picnics and parades and state fairs, eating all sorts of junk food your mother and I probably shouldn't have let you have. But I also know that it hasn't always been easy for you and Mom, and that as excited as you both are about that new puppy, it doesn't make up for all the time we've been apart. I know how much I've missed these past two years, and today I want to tell you a little more about why I decided to take our family on this journey.

When I was a young man, I thought life was all about me-about how I'd make my way in the world, become successful, and get the things I want. But then the two of you came into my world with all your curiosity and mischief and those smiles that never fail to fill my heart and light up my day. And suddenly, all my big plans for myself didn't seem so important anymore. I soon found that the greatest joy in my life was the joy I saw in yours. And I realized that my own life wouldn't count for much unless I was able to ensure that you had every opportunity for happiness and fulfillment in yours. In the end, girls, that's why I ran for President: because of what I want for you and for every child in this nation.

I want all our children to go to schools worthy of their potential-schools that challenge them, inspire them, and instill in them a sense of wonder about the world around them. I want them to have the chance to go to college-even if their parents aren't rich. And I want them to get good jobs: jobs that pay well and give them benefits like health care, jobs that let them spend time with their own kids and retire with dignity.

I want us to push the boundaries of discovery so that you'll live to see new technologies and inventions that improve our lives and make our planet cleaner and safer. And I want us to push our own human boundaries to reach beyond the divides of race and region, gender and religion that keep us from seeing the best in each other.

Sometimes we have to send our young men and women into war and other dangerous situations to protect our country-but when we do, I want to make sure that it is only for a very good reason, that we try our best to settle our differences with others peacefully, and that we do everything possible to keep our servicemen and women safe. And I want every child to understand that the blessings these brave Americans fight for are not free-that with the great privilege of being a citizen of this nation comes great responsibility.

That was the lesson your grandmother tried to teach me when I was your age, reading me the opening lines of the Declaration of Independence and telling me about the men and women who marched for equality because they believed those words put to paper two centuries ago should mean something.

She helped me understand that America is great not because it is perfect but because it can always be made better-and that the unfinished work of perfecting our union falls to each of us. It's a charge we pass on to our children, coming closer with each new generation to what we know America should be.

I hope both of you will take up that work, righting the wrongs that you see and working to give others the chances you've had. Not just because you have an obligation to give something back to this country that has given our family so much-although you do have that obligation. But because you have an obligation to yourself. Because it is only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that you will realize your true potential.

These are the things I want for you-to grow up in a world with no limits on your dreams and no achievements beyond your reach, and to grow into compassionate, committed women who will help build that world. And I want every child to have the same chances to learn and dream and grow and thrive that you girls have. That's why I've taken our family on this great adventure.

I am so proud of both of you. I love you more than you can ever know. And I am grateful every day for your patience, poise, grace, and humor as we prepare to start our new life together in the White House. 
Love, Dad

Wow.  How powerful.  It's amazing how two completely different stories can bring light to the same themes and emotions.  While I would love to entertain you with musings on the benefits of revisiting vintage goals and dreams (my original post), I truly feel like this, this is the real news. 

Until next time...

Business Logic vs. Retail Logic

Ironically in the midst of wrapping up a tough day at work, I got an email from someone who's interested in starting a retail business.  She's brand new to the industry and was seeking advice.  When I read her email, my experience from this weekend popped into my head and I thought I'd share it.  Maybe it'll help. 

My store happens to have a Starbucks located within our building and it's usually the first stop or the last stop for many of our guests.  The traffic is comparable with free-standing Starbucks and the food safety regulations and legendary service standards are the exact same. 

The employees wear Starbucks uniforms, but they are ultimately employees of my company.  Starbucks does a teeny fraction of the millions of dollars that my store earns.  There's not a lot of surface value but as a company, we lease space to Starbucks because it's what our guests want.  It's good for our brand, despite it not being a major contributor to the business in the financial sense. 

Anyway, so the other night when I was shutting down the building, I walked past Starbucks approximately 10 minutes before they were supposed to close.  I noticed all of the pastries were covered up, the dishes were already cleaned, and the ingredients were previously in the dishes were poured into makeshift disposable containers lined up behind the counter.   

"Denise, did you close early?" I ask.

"Oh no! We're still open!"

"Well, why is everything covered up and put away?"

"Um, because there were no guests," Denise says.

"...Probably because everything was covered up and put away."

Point. Set. Match.

In all reality, Denise's decision made sense.  6Sigma and normal business logic will tell you that if there are no customers, there are no sales.  Teaching your team to assume that no one is interested during the last 10 minutes will save you payroll expenses.  Business logic is about making a profit.  In that case it's okay to go ahead and put things away, right?  Just 'hoping' for customers will ultimately cost you money, right? 

On the flip side, retail logic tells you that if there are no sales, it is your fault.  Retail logic requires that you believe in your product because that's the only way you can sell it.  You're always looking for the sale, even if it's just for 10 minutes.  Retail logic is about making a connection.  You have to learn to 'just know' that there is someone who is interested in what you're offering--your job revolves around finding that person.  Once you find them, find more like them.  Your job is never done.   

Retail gets such a bad rap because retail logic usually results in being broke or burnt out.  Inventory builds up bcause finding people proves to be tedious.  Being 'hopeful' about business is often seen as being stupid about business.  Most people aren't resilient enough to push through this part. 

The key is to know when to draw the line. The truth, however, is that being hopeful about new business (or any other part of life for that matter) is all about sacrifice.  You have to be willing to let go of bad attitudes, bad employees, bad customers and even bad friends in order to see retail for what it really is; a golden opportunity.  Sacrifice is a cornerstone for any service industry professional.  

Retail is an industry that is hyper-sensitive to its leaders' decision making discipline.  Every minute counts and timing is everything.  The right choices for your business are going to be dependent on a delicate mix of personality, tolerance, and patience.  Making the right choices up front will have a huge pay off at the end of the day.  Success in retail is a direct product of your way of thinking, so start thinking today. 

I'm not sure if this helps at all.  If that's the case, then just remember this: no matter what, the ultimate goal is not to fail.  But even if you do, surround yourself with people who love you anyway. 

Good luck!

2009 has some big shoes to fill...

I guess New Years is just not my holiday.  It doesn't really excite me.   

Throughout the year, I exude countless amounts of energy and skip an immeasurable amount of sleep to ensure that I live each day like it is my last, dance like no one is looking, and execute every other cliche that guarantees me a happy and fulfilled life.  Throughout the year, I watch the clock turn from 11:59 to 12:00 and there is no champagne toast, no ball drop, and no resolution writing. 

There is just me and my laptop. 

Or me and my book. 

Or me and my thoughts...  

Meanwhile, every single year, the masses sit and wait until the clock strikes midnight and the calendar flips to January, to decide they need to change.  Seriously, I just don't get it. 

I'm no negative Nelly so forgive the morbid undertone here, but God forbid something happens to you on December 31 at 11:59pm.  You leave this world only to add another brick to the road of good intentions that everyone talks about.  All because you were waiting.  And you, still bruised from falling off the proverbial wagon, do not ever get a chance to be the best version of yourself.

The only one happy about that ending is the wagon. 

However, for the sake of this blog post and remaining culturally relevant, I will indulge.

I did a lot of good things in 2008.  I started a blog, improved my writing, and gained some awesome friendships. I rocked a fierce haircut, read some amazing books, and learned life changing lessons from the most unexpected people.  I gained access to a network typically reserved for elite members of society.  My brother and I began building the relationship we should've had years ago.  My parents continued to be incredibly inspirational.  I was promoted into a new position, earned two raises and a bonus despite a looming recession. And I spearheaded the internship program that I was a part of just 2 years prior. 

I'm so proud of myself.    

Unfortunately, the buck doesn't stop there.  I spent weeks in turmoil after a test from a routine visit to the doctor came back abnormal.  I was poked and prodded and became familiar with hospital routes, you know, "just in case".  I suffered a series of panic attacks and bouts of exhaustion; one of which resulted in 7 stitches in my chin when I fainted and fell head first on a slab of concrete.  I've been rejected from dream jobs.  I have longed to be home.  I just found out my best friend is moving to another continent.  I've fallen in and out of love both with myself and with others.  I've probably come the closest to clinical depression that I hope to ever experience. 

That may sound terrible, but I've learned to be honest even when it doesn't feel good.  And in the spirit of being honest; when I look back at 2008, I can either panic, or, I can just type...

When it comes down to it, we've all been hurt and we've all been disappointed.  Some have had it harder than others.  My father, for example, has lived a hell of a life.  He has experienced a kind of pain and loss that many will never know.  It is the kind of pain that transcends hurt feelings and momentary embarrassments. 

It is the kind of pain that is there January 1st, December 31st and every day in between.  It will be there in '09, just like it was in '79 and '89.  It's a part of his life just like all the other parts of his life.  

But when you meet him, you don't pity him.  You're not weirded out by his story.  I'm truly fascinated with people like him.  Ironically, it was a person like him who helped me understand the notion behind New Years.

I was reading the UK version of Glamour and came across an article about Courtney Love.  Yep, THE Courtney Love.  In the article she talks about everything like plastic surgery, drug addiction, and anger.  She says she should be dead.  I immediately recognize her pain as it is the same kind of pain that raised me.  It quickly becomes an intriguing read. 

She makes a point at the beginning of the interview to let the journalist know that nothing is off limits.  I'm amazed as Courtney welcomes this stranger to delve into whatever aspect of her life that will create a great story.  So naturally, the reporter goes there. 

She asks Courtney about the suicide-death of her husband, Kurt Cobain.  The journalist wants to know how she's coping, and how her daughter deals with the untimely death of her father coupled with a difficult childhood.  Tears begin to stream down her face, and as she admits that she never properly grieved, Love whispers:

"People think it gets easier.  It doesn't.  It just gets further away."

And when put like that, I suppose I can understand the symbolism behind the holiday.  

I'd be lying to you if I said it didn't feel good to give 2008 an introspective kiss goodbye.  I welcome 2009 with open arms knowing it will probably not be much easier in the true sense of the word.  I welcome it with the understanding that life is full of ups and downs that do not operate on a calendar, even though that may be the easiest way to digest it.  I welcome it with the expectation that January 1 does not change me; only me changes me. 

But most of all, I welcome it prepared.  I owe that to 2008.