As I sat to write this, I had spent six (of nine) working hours on Zoom meetings — the kind you can’t simply join, but where you are an active, verbal participant. I’m famous for talking more than I should in these virtual visits (I’m working on this), so by the end of the day, my ‘words box’ was spent.
This is becoming more common for me, and I’m not alone in this experience. Not since my days as an undergrad studying vocal performance have I dealt with this much strain on the throat. Comparing my calendars from January 2021…
Over the past week I counted 29 stories from really solid writers that featured phrasings like “We as leaders need to…” or “In our leadership roles we must…”
Who is this collective “we” everyone’s talking about?
I’m not railing against this perspective entirely, but is the working assumption that everyone reading these articles is a leader?
Can they be? Should they be?
I don’t think so.
And before you blow a gasket about this, I want to invite you on a journey of perspective. …
I recently wrote about one of the best emails I’ve received in ages (see bottom) from the fine minds at Mind Cafe. It had all the right elements, and it got me the good details, quickly, with heart. Consider this a “part 2” of sorts — a cautionary tale of what not to do in your organizational communications.
This week I was scheduled to join a webinar on President’s Day about online fundraising events (like virtual galas) which I couldn’t attend because — as you may have seen — the entire great state of Texas was experiencing a once-in-a-generation winter…
By nature, I am a curious person — annoyingly so. My family never complained about it (not that I know of) but growing up I was definitely the “why?” child.
I’m sure this can be outwardly irritating, though as an adult this practice keeps me well-informed on things of immediate or peripheral importance; a valued skill at work, at home, and everywhere.
I worry about curiosity’s decline, though I’m not completely surprised. We keep an infinite amount of information on light-up rectangles in our pockets and purses, yet we seem curious about very few things. Rock musician-turned-neuroscientist Daniel J. …
A confession: as a straight, white male, I get squeamish having opinions about subjects of sexual orientation, race, or gender. I fully acknowledge the place of privilege from which this comes, and I’ve become keenly more aware of it over the past year especially.
So, of course, I paused when a friend sent me this post on Facebook from Oberlin Conservatory.
I didn’t trust you, I never have. But I had higher hopes for myself.
Higher hopes that I’d be able to show up, shut up, and put in the good effort. The good ole’ college try, as they’d say. But college is a few decades in the rear-view, and I’ve got no tries to give.
And it’s not that you ever (ever) invited the tries I gave.
You mirrored none of my energy, or intention, for that matter. Your eyes were for your own direct line of sight; that which you and you alone could maintain. …
I vividly recall my last in-person meeting on March 13, 2020. My colleague and I barely covered the agenda as we peered out the coffee shop window and pondered if this “coronavirus thing” would be a big deal.
That evening, I packed up my work computer to begin my drive home, and haven’t returned to the office in over 350 days.
Few experiences over the past century have touched every corner of the world like COVID-19. Here in the U.S., the horrors of the 9/11 attacks were, for instance, a clear and explosive event, literally. Though the aftershocks reverberated throughout…
Please, let me set the scene for you.
A once-in-a-lifetime winter storm had swept through Texas. With single-digit temperatures in the American Gulf Coast, the electric grid froze knocking out power (and water) for millions of residents in my city of Houston. The local government had not prepared well, so our house was sitting at a crisp 41°F (5°C). In response, we took to the great outdoors in my Subaru to get toasty, charge our phones, and seek a hot cup of coffee.
Success. Our favorite coffee spot had just enough electricity to steam us some java and hot cocoa…
Lo, in my sent folder you allow my sentiment to exist exist unburdened, untouched, unsullied. Three weeks hence, not a glance, not a thought, not a whisper of care. I feel for my message, I long for my message (to be read).
There is no “I” in email, except for “me.” And yes, I suppose literally there is, though I am disinterested in such alternative facts. No man is an island, no email a metropolis, no “read receipt” hitherto. I know you, I see you. To others you respond, you reflect — to me, only silence, neglect.
What? What have…
Remember pre-pandemic when people would stop by your office to ask a question? Sometimes you were even summoned to someone else’s office for such a question. Sometimes colleagues would even try to give you a sense of how much time they need.
And most of the time they were cold-hearted liars. Here’s what they were saying, and what they really meant. Keep this handy for when the global health crisis is behind us and Susan comes barging into your office.
This one is tricky. A minute could really be a minute, or it could be the better part of an…
Small southpaw writing about nonprofits, creativity, kindness, and life.