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Learning How to Fight Fair is Key to Preserving Good Relationships

Jun Loayza wrote an article about how he knows his girlfriend is the one.  He brought up a couple of great indicators, but my favorite had to be the one where he says that they fight for the right reasons. 

There are times when fighting with someone you love is natural, then there are those others times when it's really, really hard.  And the level of difficulty is not just limited to your fighting with a mate, it applies to family too.  In fact, I fought with my dad a few months ago and cried for 3 days straight.  Words hurt more than anything because they resonate with you for years and years to come.  I used to work with young girls who were all screwed up because of something some knucklehead told them many moons ago.  It's so careless but it's an all too familiar story.

When you are arguing with someone you love, you have to make sure there is a built in filter behind that wall of respect that will make sure you don't cross the line and say something that will stick in their heart and stay there...festering...forever.  Be responsible, people!  

You can fight, but there is a way to fight RIGHT:

1.  No Cheap Shots--This includes "yo mama" jokes, name-calling, and anything of the sorts.  It's distracting and it's mean.  Beyond that, it takes away from the main point of the disagreement.  To respond by throwing out something cheap is passive aggressive.  How is the original issue ever addressed? Now you just have two people who are even angrier for no good reason.

2. Stay on the topic!--I have a girlfriend who is notorious for this.  Every time her boo does something that she disagrees with, she brings up this one time when he was in Vegas and puked in front of the sidewalk cop.  Obviously that one transgression makes him irresponsible for this rest of his life.  Right.  Here's my take: knowing someone's past is a gift.  To use it against them, especially in an argument, doesn't reinforce positive communication or mature interaction. 

3. Say what you have to say, and then SHUT UP!!--There is nothing I hate more then someone who dominates the conversation.  Just as there is a right/wrong way to communicate successfully, there is a right/wrong way to respond in order to correct an action.  And sometimes information is just that...information.  You don't have to add a point of view that counters mine every time I take a breath. 

4. When it's over, it's over.  No revisits!--I used to be guilty of this one.  After we'd finish a big argument, if the other person said ONE thing that even resembled our spat, I'd be all "SEEEEE...THIS is EXACTLY why we argue all the time!"  We'd be in another argument (which in all actuality, is still about the first argument) and he wouldn't even realize it LOL.  Learning how to let go is key to fighting fair.  Each argument should be taken at face value. 

My grandma used to tell me, "the skin you take care of in your twenties is the skin you live with in your fifties."  The same could be said about relationships.  Protect those you love by making sure you don't cross any lines during the fight. 

Cool Jobs Don't Need Traditional Job References, They Need Cultural Ones

"I have a suggestion," I thought to myself, "maybe you should promote a black person."

Yeah, I know we're not supposed to think these things--but I'm being honest.  In the spirit of being honest, I'm going to add that I wish I would've made my suggestion out loud on last Friday's conference call.  And furthermore, I'm pretty sure I'm not the only minority who has felt this way about their effective group.

Here's some truth about my 'cool' job: looking at my org chart is discouraging.  I can count the number of black leaders in my department on one hand--assuming that one hand is fingerless. 

Of all my minority categories, I consider myself black first.  That may upset the feminists, but it's been ingrained in me from Day 1 and it has shaped my life more than being a female has.  Probably because I learned it first. 

I love black culture.  I think rappers and athletes are the original grassroots marketers and have called on many of them, many times, to promote a product or idea.  I believe the electric slide has more team-building capabilities than a normal hour long course on the same subject, and I truly feel everyone should read Motown lyrics just like they do any other poetry. 

I share all of this (and more), with all kinds of people, on a daily basis.  Because knowing something changes the way you experience it.  Knowing someone's cultural background changes the way you interact with them, just like knowing wine changes the way you enjoy it.  And more importantly, because in order to manage smart people, "you have to go out of your way to periodically allow your own points of view to be evaluated, questioned and improved."

Gen Y is supposed to be colorblind, but when I imagine an executive meeting where there is no African American presence, I imagine an executive meeting that ends up with a strategy that is full of missed opportunities and lost chances for revenue increases.  I imagine a company that is vastly limiting their network and doesn't even realize it.    

In my mind, it's Marketing 101.  And in my subconscious, it's Tolerance 101.  I can't help it.  It walks like a duck.

It's not just me.  All of us, in our unconscious, harbor prejudicial thoughts.

Uh huh. Even you.    

Sure, there are many factors that influence an applicant pool and subsequent hires.  And yes, I'm fully aware that diversity is defined by factors other than race and nationality.  But above all that, I truly believe cultural references are one of the strongest things you can bring to the table.  And they are a major reason why Dave Chappelle is filthy rich and why this site is so popular. 
  
Case in point: One of the best lessons I learned about finance came from Ramit Sethi.  He taught me to "negotiate like an Indian." I thought I knew how to negotiate, that skill has been taught for years from both white and black folks around me.  Negotiating like an Indian, however, was best suited coming from, well, an Indian.  And you know what? I remember the advice and utilize it daily.  Apparently, I'm not the only one. 

I could go on and on about the lessons about character that I received from my lesbian best friend, or what I learned about the importance of history and tradition from my new Jewish co-workers enviable week-long commitment to salads during Passover, or what I learned about sense of self from my bi-racial president.

I could, but I won't.  I want to you to find out for yourself.

Why Everyday Is Mother's Day, Or At Least It Should Be

Myself, my mother, and her mother at my graduation in 2006

Monday morning, I woke up sad.  To top it off, my mom was traveling for four days.  Usually I don't mind but lately I've had this nagging feeling that something bad is going to happen.  It's uncharacteristic of me, I suppose it's another stage of mourning.  I hope it passes because one day last week when Nikki didn't pick up her phone or return my text messages, I almost called her mother.  

Turns out she was just in a meeting.  Oops.  

When we finally did talk I explained that I was worried because the last time I didn't hear from somebody, I never heard from him again.  Feeling insecure about my admission, I chuckled to soften the intensity.  She understood and I felt like an idiot; a relieved idiot.  Then she made me laugh at myself and I felt my age again. 

Anyway, my mom was leaving me and I started to get worried.  I started to feel myself going through what I deemed to be an irrational separation-anxiety.  I know how my body deals with anxiety.  I decide to start to "use my words".  That's what the lady on TV said would help.  

"Call me when you get in," I tell her on Monday morning.  

"Ok!" she says back.  Monday afternoon she didn't call. I call her.  

"Have you made it in?" I ask.  Argh, she's still not there yet.  

"I'm about 70 miles away, I'll call when I get there!"  

She doesn't call.  I decide not to call her back because my Mom may not "get" my morbid explanations for irrational behavior.  She probably won't make me laugh at myself like Nikki did.  

She's not supposed to. 

Instead of worrying I sort through the mail, rip open bills and tape another beautiful sympathy card from my Uncle to my mirror.  Then I change clothes and leave the house for the night.  I need to escape. 

I got through Tuesday pretty well.  Wednesday night, while we were eating chicken fingers, my Dad told me he was going out of town the next day.  I could feel my face getting warm.  I tried to run off to my room but my dad actually enjoys my conversation.   So I sat there holding it in until I found the perfect time to escape (again).  I hurry up to my room, turn the lights off, and tell Sean he better look after my Dad tomorrow.  

This morning I called my mom bright and early so she could reassure me about my Dad's flight itinerary.  She answered the phone on the 4th ring.  I counted.  When she picked up, her voice sounded scratchy.  I asked her if she was awake yet and she said she wasn't.  Oops.  I quickly got the information I needed and was ready to hang up.  "Okay thanks, see you lat..."

"So do you think you'll be busy at work today?" she asks out of nowhere.  

I answer her and before I can begin to try and close the conversation, she moves on to the next topic just as erratically as she introduced the first one. "Your brother has been looking for a faster car," she says.

I kept trying to escape and hang up but she was relentless.  I continue answer her queries and smile as she engages me in the random happenings in her world.  She bounces from topic to topic and sprinkles motherly advice like, "and that's why you should only carry ONE credit card," in between her stories.  It was so random but so needed.       

We ended up talking for an hour and I actually forget that I'm supposed to be worrying.  

She ends our conversation with "well thank you for waking me up!" 

I want to tell her the same thing...every single day 

   

I've Got A Cool Job, Just Don't Tell 'Them' That...

Image courtesy of News.Com

Today I sat at my new corporate job and thought, 'I'm one of the lucky ones'. This week marks my seventh week in position. I have a corner cube right next to the window.  So far I've been flown to a 5-Star Resort in Paradise Valley, Arizona for a week long sales conference, I've shaken hands with every important acronym and attended a Baby Shower, Wedding Shower and an International Dish Day all sponsored for my department, by my department.

I've been treated to fancy bagels and kitschy items by hotels who want to see more business from our team.

I got a gift certificate for my 'amazing work' on creating a training manual for the position. 

I even burned a bridge, and I liked it. 

Here's what I haven't done yet.  I haven't worked longer than 8 hours a day.  I haven't felt like what I'm doing is a challenge. I constantly ask myself if this is really what they mean by WORK? This can't be that shit Dilbert complains about.

Hmph. I could've had a V8. 

I'm comfortable being a good employee, but I'm more comfortable being a smart one.  I'm grateful that I'm both and set up a meeting with boss.  He's a Harvard grad, and he's black.  I mention that he's black for two reasons.  One, there's not a lot (read: hardly any, if any) black Harvard grads in the hospitality industry.  He's unique and should be recognized as such.  Two, having a black boss makes me feel more understood.  And for me, feeling understood is key to being 100% candid.

I started out with, "I know I may sound like a bit of a Martian..." and made sure the ellipses were just as present in my tone as they are on this post.   When he didn't react, I felt at ease and finished my thought: "but there's got to be MORE to it than this!!!" You better believe I made sure the exclamation marks were just as present in my tone as they are on this post.  Unofficial expression is powerful. 

I started on a passionate tangent about sacrifice and urgency.  I was preachy and calculated.  I was using buzzwords like 'change management' and 'economic times like these' more times than Nancy Grace says "Tot-Mom" in her syndicated show.  It was well considered and well executed.  My manager nodded his head in agreement, chimed in every once in a while but ultimately he sat back and just listened. 

So I kept going. 

I ranted about how the culture of our department could use a dose of my 'git-er-done' personality.  I pledged to eat Wheaties EVERY.SINGLE.MORNING. I said I would do anything just to try and make a dent in the complicated legacy of this industry.  And when I was done, I felt like I should scrape my hair back into a sloppy dancers knot and stick a ballpoint pen right through the middle of it just to indicate how ready I was.  If that didn't work, atleast it would pre-occupy my hands from cusping my cheeks Home Alone style.   

My manager, in his cool and calm Harvard voice, simply responded: "That's exactly why we hired you...now are you 'bout it or are you not?"

Perfect response. I fully plan on inserting some modern relevance into this job.

A few weeks ago there was some interesting dialogue on the 'net about what makes a job "cool".  For me, cool is doing something that's been done to death and doing it differently. 

Retail. Blogs. Love. And now hospitality.   

Apologizing When You Feel You've Done Nothing Wrong Is Hard--Who Cares? Do It Anyway!

Last week sucked.  I unknowingly made some people upset while I was dealing with this new thing called mourning. And they told me about it. So yesterday I apologized.

Wait, I should probably say it this way: Yesterday I apologized, profusely. 

I didn't want to, it was really hard but I did it anyways.  And I meant it.

It all started when I created something I honestly believed to be thoughtful.  It was heartfelt and raw and I decided to share it with someone I thought would appreciate it like I did.  I gave it away in the same spirit in which it was created, heartfelt and raw.  The person who received it, looked over it and thought it was distasteful.  Their reaction was unexpected and kind of public.  I was hurt.  Actually, I was really hurt.  And then I apologized.  

In my book, acts of apology are right up there with acts of kindness.  One of the most difficult social situations is standing in front of the person who you feel has done you wrong.  An even more difficult situation is saying 'I'm so, so sorry' to that very same person.  Go for the gold and choose the latter.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't always feel this way.  I used to be someone who was driven by the need to prove something more than I was the need to solve something.  I guess the older you get, the more you need to face the truth--and the truth is that oftentimes you have a moment, a single moment, to make someone feel better.  There are no dress rehearsals.  The person that you let walk away angry will inevitably affect many more people with that same energy.  You have to understand that it's bigger than you.  Much bigger...

Apologizing is a completely selfless act--it's saying out loud 'I know my power and I refuse to exploit it!'

I didn't feel like I did anything wrong.  I still don't, but an apology is not so much an admission of guilt as it is an acknowledgment of responsibility.  The distinction is crucial.  Even though you may not have caused the distress, you have the ability to grant a reprieve. 

Yeah I know what they say, it doesn't change things.  Sometimes sorry just isn't enough, but sometimes it is.  Nothing can ever change the past, but a great apologyhas the ability to rewrite tomorrow. 

After all, the last thing you want to do is spend all your time defending yourself instead of just being yourself. 

How many times have you apologized today?

This Recession Will Prove There Are Some Things That Are Cross-Generational

I said it wouldn't be easy and boy was I right.  Although it was speculated to be quite an unlucky year due to the 3 Friday the 13ths, 2009 has definitely proven to be my unluckiest year yet. 

On the first Friday--Friday, February 13--I worked my last day at my company.  While I was fortunate to receive a great job in this economy and leave voluntarily, it all happened very quickly.  I left with significantly less than a two week notice and I didn't get to say goodbye to some of the people who molded me into what I've become.  My team was crushed and the ending was bittersweet.  That job was all I ever knew, and it was a surprisingly tough day for me. 

Thank God Valentine's Day was the next day.  It was a reminder that love is meant to be celebrated. 

One week later, I moved back in with my parents.  I've been living with them for a little over a month now and every day my room seems to be tinier and tinier.  Despite the aesthetics, I'm happy to report we've only had one blow-up.  It was major and it involved some colorful language.  It was regarding 'discretion', a decidedly Boomer trait that I have chosen not to adopt just yet.   

Although there have been times where I've reverted back to my thirteen year old self and transformed into a mindset that was convinced that my parents were never going to understand me, this transition has not been too much a struggle for me.  The love in this house is stronger than my temporary discomfort.

The second Friday--Friday, March 13th--would later prove to be a lot more significant than the first.  Friday, March 13 was the last day I saw my best friend before he took his own life less than 2 weeks later.  His temporary discomfort was just too much. 

I was flying to Phoenix for a week on Saturday, and Sean come all the way to Atlanta to see me off before my first big business trip.  We were used to celebrating first's together.  We ate dinner, drank wine and told stories about how we were going to change the world...Today I am humbled by the talks we had.  

I thought I was this anomaly of a person until I lost someone who took a piece of me with him. 

My spirit can handle sadness.  In my mind, sadness feels organic.  I'm okay with it.  Before Sean died, I didn't know the difference between sadness and grief.  I thought I had grieved before; but real grief, I've found, only occurs when there is a true loss. 

My spirit doesn't do as well with loss. 

When words just aren't enough, people tend to rely on expression.  I'm no different, neither are you and neither is the psycho down the street.  So in an attempt to say what I couldn't quite 'say,' I laid curled up in my bed for hours and hours.  I cried until my eyes became swollen and red.  I was consumed by shock, guilt, remorse, and a pain that ran to the deepest part of me.  I was angry and dealing with feelings that I've never had to deal with. 

It sounds bad because it was.  And it still is. 

The beautiful thing, the thing that is causing me to write publicly right now, is that people picked up on what I was expressing.  They looked past my medium and found the message.  And then they reacted.  While we may disagree on the things like 'responsibility' and 'discretion', loss is cross-generational.

As my fifty-something year old mother was holding my trembling body, trying her hardest to convince me to take just "one more bite", my twenty-something friends were facebooking, texting and even calling, trying their hardest to say how sorry they were.  Meanwhile, my seventy-something year old grandmother was wishing she was here with me and writing some of the most heartfelt words I've ever read and putting it in the mail.  To say I was, and still am, very very touched is a large understatement. 

Effort, gratitude and gracefulness, it turns out, are cross-generational as well. 

The things that people say and do for you during the most tragic, defining moments of your lives are the things that you will take with you forever.  While we did not choose the time period that we are coming of age in, we can choose the way we interact with others each and every day.   

So there you have it.  When it comes to communication, the message is not always in the words but rather in the expression.  Content used to be the king, now it's context.  As I realize how many people have experienced a loss (tangible, personal or otherwise) during this recession, I wonder if I've been as graceful as I should've been. 

Someone once told me that writer's block is not your mind telling you that you don't have anything to say, but it's your mind fearing that what you say isn't going to be _______ enough.  Funny thing is, when you lose something, you feel like you shouldn't be afraid of anything. 

So I'm writing.

"Sometimes, I guess there just aren't enough rocks"--Forrest Gump