Switcheroo

In my short, post-graduate career, I have switched jobs seven times. In all but one of them, I couldn't wait to leave and it always had to do with the manager (or managers in the case of one of them). From micromanagers with grudges to aloof narcissists, I have had my fair share of manager drama and each time, I reached a point where I couldn't take working in that particular role any longer. In one instance, in the aforementioned role with multiple managers, I actually got pushed to the point where I told one of them off. Thinking I had surely sealed my fate as an ex-intern of this non-governmental organization, I packed my things and left, only to get a call a half-hour later asking where I went. I don't know what surprised me more: not only had I not been canned, but also that they just felt I was of sound enough emotional control to continue working that day. Obviously, this scenario was well-worn territory for them. But, I digress.

I now find myself on the cusp of switching jobs for an eighth time, but unlike all of the others, this time there was no urgency to my decision. I am perfectly content in my current role; sure, it has its frustrations, but what job doesn't? This is the first time that I have actually had to think about making a move, weighing pros and cons, obsessing on whether or not the decision I make is the correct one. So, after the pros and cons lists, as well as counsel with multiple parties - thanks to all of you who served as sounding boards! - I decided to close my eyes and make the switch. Ultimately, it's what is best for my long-term career growth and happens to be with a group that's just getting off the ground with an ever-expanding purview. However, I find the whole thing to be bittersweet, complemented with a substantial palette of emotions, ranging from giddy with excitement to disappointed I'm throwing in the towel on something into which I've invested a lot of myself.

In my previous roles, I relished the chance I got to tell my then-managers that I was leaving. It was the day I had been waiting for; the night before I was to tell them, I couldn't sleep, excitedly anticipating what stupid, disappointed face they would make upon getting the news. Some gave me the stupid, disappointed face I wanted, some presented a lamentable front which belied their excitement to finally being rid of me, some got really upset, and some frankly didn't care. But, the one thing all of those experiences had in common was my exuberance to experience them. In contract, this time around, I procrastinated like crazy before telling my manager I was making a move. He's been an incredibly fair manager; I have always had the level of autonomy that I need to be productive, yet can always get direction when I need it. He's also been more than fair in accommodating the time off I need to take for Grace's medical issues; never a guilt trip and always "Of course! Do what you need to do." I really had a pain in my gut walking down to his office to tell him my plan.

The irrational part of me said that I don't need to tell him; I won't tell him, he'll be none the wiser to my scheming, and meanwhile I'll work secretly for the new manager. It's not like that's incredibly unfeasible or that he and the new manager have been friends since I was in high school. So, needless to say, I was shocked hearing myself calmly and matter-of-factly explaining my decision and how I arrived at it. He was disappointed, sure, and I could see a flash of "Shit, now I need to hire someone when I had no intention to do so", but like always, dealt with this fairly and respectfully. It really made it easier and I'm happy to say there hasn't been a second of awkwardness and, so far, I haven't detected an ounce of resentfulness.

Of course, it wasn't just the dynamic between my manager and I that I was concerned with disrupting. Of equal concern was the dynamic I have with my report, my coworkers, and my work itself. My report initially thought I was firing him, but then warmed to the challenge this presents for him and the opportunities for him to take ownership of some items. I knew this was going to hit one particular coworker hard, but I was able to, I hope, allay some of his fears that this transition would be as seamless as possible. But, I think the most difficult part of this will be gradually detaching myself from my current workload. I am now in a position of ownership and authority and I'm not fooled into thinking that being a "newborn" isn't going to be one of the largest challenges I've ever faced. I have put so much of myself into what I've done for the past two and a half years and the thought of handing it over to someone else is very hard for me to accept, control freak that I am.

But, the fact of the matter is that our lives are nothing but strings of different adventures, stumbles, challenges, and milestones and that flow needs to keep flowing. I've always told myself that as soon as I slowed down and started to feel complacent that I needed to jump to the next thing. I haven't noticed it, but a little ping of complacency has been steadily growing these last few months. I guess the universe has been trying to tell me something and I guess I listened.

Really, I Don't Need Sleep

If you know Becky or I, you know that our little bean bottom, Grace, has experienced her fair share of medical issues in her short life. First, it was reflux, then reflux and colitis, then torticollis, then these neurological issues. Despite all of the doctor visits - and requisite poking, prodding, and occasional sedation - she is an incredibly sweet, good-natured child with a wonderful sense of adventure and an attitude that I, frankly, find inspiring. This is not to say that there aren't times when I have to leave the room and take 5 deep breaths because she's about to push me over the edge - the habitual spitting of masticated chicken nuggets comes to mind. But, overall we have been blessed, blessed, blessed by the joy she has brought us and I'm sure will continue to bring us as she grows up.

As we were eating dinner last night, I asked Becky if having children means "there's always something"; the monkey wrenches like changing what and how much she eats, when she will have separation anxiety, diarrhea, an obsession with cups, etc. She said "Of course." I can't help but thinking, however, that we have more of a "there's always something" experience with Grace than most parents have with their children. There are, of course, her medical issues, but what can you do about that? It's something we just have to deal with and a long time ago I got over the "Woe is me" tendencies and got it together because I have to be there for her. Travelling to Philadelphia once every three months for a MRI with sedation and Jersey every once in awhile for visits to the neurologist are our normal; we don't know any other way.

The most frustrating, sometimes agonizing, thing about this child is her sleep pattern, or lack thereof to be more apt. We can attribute the fact that she has never been a good sleeper to her reflux she had as a newborn. She was in such pain - la pauvre - that instead of sleeping throughout the day, as most newborns do, she screamed. Literally 16-20 hours a day, screamed. We couldn't put her down in a bouncey chair, swing, or crib. She would finally pass out at about 11 PM and sleep until 7 or 8 the next morning in a bassinet, but other than those 8 or 9 hours, she was being held. This persisted and Becky ended up having her in a sling all day. But, she barely ever slept during the day.

She evolved to fight sleep and needless to say, we weren't all that surprised, once we actually got her on the semblance of a sleep schedule, when she dropped her second daily nap at 9 months. I guess Mother Nature, puzzled, gave up and said "Fine, if you don't want to sleep, don't." We got over the loss of the second nap because, really, did we have a choice? But, since 9 months,we've been stuck in a VISCIOUS pattern, over which we have no power. Currently, you have some days when she doesn't even take one nap. I have assigned a scientific term for these days: sucky. Then, sometimes you get a combo punch where she won't nap during the day and then wakes up in the middle of the night. This pattern persists, getting a little worse each day, and when we finally get used to it and expect it, she sleeps through the night and - shocker - wakes up rosy-cheeked and happy. Before this good night's sleep, she was a crotchedy, ornery, little runt because she was so freakin' overtired! Everyone we know has said things like, "They go through phases. They do. Mine went through one, too. But, I've never seen them do this over and over. That's really weird." Well, you've been tremendously helpful...

As you can probably imagine, Becky and I are also crotchedy, ornery runts when this is all happening. Mornings just suck. We're zombies. My brain is like an outdated computer, my CPU crunching as it limps along; thoughts like "I need milk for my coffee" have a little hourglass in my brain. I can't wait to get to work where at least I have some freakin' control over something! Poor Becky, in turn, has to deal with Christina - the name I coined for Grace's pissed-off alter-ego - all day. And if she doesn't nap, I can bet that I'm going to get a desperation call.

On these days, I think we're both working for bedtime. 5:30 rolls around and you're like "OK, all I need to do is get her through dinner. I can do this." After she's down - and she takes sometimes 2 hours to fall asleep after we put her in her crib - we have dinner in front of the TV and get in bed and finally, praise God, drift...off...to sleep...ONLY TO BE AWAKENED AT 12:30 or 1:00. Rinse and repeat, as desired.

There are 5 stages of grief - denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance - which I think also hold true for sleep deprivation at the hands of a child. I would say I'm at depression and Becky is at acceptance. This last bout has been ebbing and flowing for about 3 weeks. At one point, 6 out of 7 days, Grace was up for 3 hours in the middle of the night. When this was happening, I was definitely in the anger and bargaining phases. When she was up from 12:30 to 2:30 last night and then up again at 5:00, I was just sad. Especially at 5:00. Because light was creeping through the blinds and you knew there was no going back to sleep. So sad...

I've gotten to the point, however, that I'm mostly sad for her. It's not like she's not tired. Sometimes she just stares at me and it's like she's asleep with her eyes open. She's exhausted and overtired. At night, when I'm awake listening to her squawking and singing on the monitor, I ask myself what's going on that wakes her up. Is the reflux back? Is she having nightmares? Is she teething? Are her circadian rhythms just in outer space? It's enough to make you crazy. But, you're too tired to be crazy.

I'm sure this will pass. And when it does something else will pop up. It's like raising a child is a game of whack-a-mole.

Where, O Where, is Willpower?

At the beginning of a swim class that Grace took recently, the instructor would have the parents cover their children's eyes while she would sing "Where, o where, o where is ____? Where, o where, o where is ____? Where, o where, o where is ____? OH! There he/she is!" She did this for each child in the class. Some kids loved it, some kids freaked out; Grace, having none of it, would bob and weave and slam my hand down, never losing site of the instructor. She wasn't scared or unhappy; she just wanted this woman to know that she had her eye on her. Anyone who knows Grace would undoubtedly say, "Yep, that sounds about right."

The bottom line is at the end of the little ditty, the child was always found. They always appeared. They might have been gone or lost for a brief moment but then OH! There they are! It's a comforting lesson, I think, to teach children: that something can be misplaced and not found for a brief period, but if you ask, ponder, and search for it, you can always find it. In reality, is this guaranteed? Of course not. But, isn't our job as parents to gently ease our kids into reality until they're old enough to realize that it's not always equitable?

Then there are things we lose all the time and find again only to lose again. Becky will tell you that for me, this item is my wallet. She says my reaction in any time of stress - moving, wedding, Grace's medical issues - is for me to lose my wallet. But, my artful ability to make a stressful situation more stressful is a story for another day - and perhaps for a therapist. There are other things in my life that are constantly going through the revolving door of lost and found; from the material and tangible like my keys to the fundamental and intrinsic like willpower.

Willpower is a funny thing. Some people have tons of it and know how to leverage it. Not only that, they never seem to lose it. They know where it is at all times. It's like they can see it in their hands and can use it like a Care Bear Stare to get things done and bend the world their way. I envy these people as sometimes I feel like my willpower behaves like a mischievous puppy that has something I want and is able to dart away from me with every move I make. The more resolute I am, the better it is at avoiding me, so eventually I give up. Inevitably, when I give up, the justification parade isn't that far behind. "I'm tired", "I left everything I have at work", "I had a rough day", "Grace was difficult today", "I don't have any money", and my favorite "I'll do it tomorrow. I just need tonight to get myself together mentally". Tomorrow comes and goes; Willpower is in the corner comfortably gnawing on whatever it was I wanted and I'm like Billy Crystal in that scene in "When Harry Met Sally" where he's just lying in bed watching TV whimpering.

Now, am I different from that many of us? I don't think so. If everyone were these aforementioned "doers", there would be no war, no poverty, no unhappiness. Everyone would have willed themselves to contentment. I fear that for most of us, our willpower ebbs and flows like the tide. It's only natural to sometimes say "Screw it. Will the world end if this waits for me to tackle it tomorrow?". Problem is, this latter demographic is a gray area; some people are better at bringing themselves back than others who just descend into downward spiral of inertia. I happen to be in this latter latter group and once I'm on the trajectory, the moons have to align for me to get back.

Needless to say I'm used to this pattern. But, last week, when the diet was on-its-ass broken, when I was watching TV until 11:30 instead of reading, and when I put off starting that project - AGAIN! - something clicked. I said to myself "This is ridiculous. I am a more-than-capable 31 year old man with an education and accomplishments. The only thing standing between me and getting something done is me." So, I set a date (today) and said "On this day, I will do ___". This ___ loosely translates to the obligations that had been slacking: dieting, reading, keeping things up around the house, tackling those projects at work, etc. Granted, I am only part of the day through Day 1, but so far so good. Just some general observations that I've made along the way:

1. Do, don't think: I overthink everything and when we think too much our brains start to undermine our resolve. Instead, I'm just doing. No thinking about what I'm having for lunch; I'm just going right to the salad bar. That project is at the top of my to do list? OK, I'm not going to think about what else I can do; I'm going to get to work on this project. I've found it's actually quite liberating to get away from my brain, given how much my brain tortures me.

2. Make a list: I am a linear person, so lists - tangible, numbered lists - work well for me. There's a certain satisfaction of being able to make the list shorter by knocking off tasks one by one. Not only that - and this ties into the first observation - I'm not being creative in how I accomplish the tasks on the list. I'm just picking them off starting at the beginning. Again, this is pretty liberating.

3. Take breaks: In this one day, I have noticed a marked difference in my productivity, effectiveness, and problem-solving by allowing myself to take short breaks here and there. If I can detach myself from something for like 5 minutes instead of obsessing, going crazy, and then inevitably checking out mentally, I come back to it with a fresh mindset and can either overcome the obstacle or be able to look at the big picture to see if the obstacle is even worth considering.

4. Documentation: If I write down what I'm doing, I can not only keep track of what I've done, but it also gives me an opportunity to revisit what I've done and think about it for a minute. In the rush to get things done, the tasks I accomplish are often water under the bridge. Documenting them gives me the opportunity to figure out next steps and/or manage my time to make sure the deadline is met. It's truly a game-changer for me. Of course, the only way it works is by sticking to it.

Again, the only thing standing between me and my willpower is me. It wasn't this genius epiphany I came to. I simply said to myself that I am an able person and all I have to do is tell my brain to get out of the way so that I can work. So, where o where is willpower? AH! There it is!

An Open Letter to My Cubicle Neighbor

Dear Cubicle Neighbor,

I'm going to be very blunt about the purpose of this letter: it is to tell you that I don't like you. I will preface this by saying that I am not an idiot. Of course I remember that last summer you were an intern here and that you actually sat in the cubicle on the other side of me. I remember every time you came in with a jolly "GOOD MORNING!" in your non-descript, Eastern or Central European accent. I remember you asking me what I do and the blank expression that you tried ever-so-hard to conceal when you didn't understand a word of what I was saying. And, most fundamentally, I remember your collection of cheap, CVS colognes, a different one each day which confounded my olfactory sense's ability to "tune out" such acrid funks.

Now, you have returned and I suppose your MO is not to acknowledge people. You still bathe in a different stench each day and still try to hard to impress your peers and manager. Yet, even though I have said "Hello" to you several times and even gave you a "Welcome back" when you first returned, I have never gotten reciprocation. Maybe your group's sense of superiority has so blinded you that you think you don't have to acknowledge anyone else in this office. Maybe you're just trying to prove your mettle and think you need to be no-nonsense. Or maybe in your senior year you just became a dick. I have no idea.

Bottom line is, boychik, one of the keys to success in the real world is not to burn bridges, no matter how meaningless each connection seems to be. They obviously didn't teach you this at Fairfield.

Don Draper Wouldn't Work At FactSet

As someone who is always late to the party, but gets there eventually, I started watching MadMen from Season 1 with Becky last night, in hopes of getting caught up before the fifth season begins. So far, I would say I'm impressed. What has particularly impressed me, however, is not the show itself, but rather the glaring contrasts between the culture it portrays and the culture in which I find myself.

After we finished our second episode - intrigued, we put on another one after the first - I found myself in the kitchen thinking about what I had just seen. As I washed the dishes and wiped down the counter, I thought to myself, "Don Draper wouldn't be cleaning up the kitchen." Then, I realized I had made dinner tonight; Don Draper wouldn't make dinner, either. In fact, Don Draper also wouldn't do things like hang around in the morning so he could feed his daughter just to have a little time with her that day or take her on weekend mornings so his wife could tackle the Sisyphean task of catching up on sleep. These thoughts kept running through my head.

Where they really took off, however, is when I started comparing the dynamics of Sterling-Cooper versus FactSet Research Systems, Inc. Men and women wore suits at Sterling-Cooper; jeans and sometimes even message t-shirts, if not business casual, are the norm at FactSet. Mad Men went out for four-martini lunches; we get $8 worth of food from our cafeteria, where I can assure you there are no libations.

What I find most interesting, entertaining, and at times even uncomfortable is the way women fit into the corporate dynamic in the late 1950's. I guess what I find so alien is the concept of "girls" versus "women". For example, "girls" worked at Sterling-Cooper; "women" work at FactSet. "Girls" are posessions; "women" are assets. "Girls" work for you; "women" work with you. To be a "girl" at Sterling-Cooper was synonymous with being a machine, albeit one that you expected to ooze sex appeal and always have a bottle of rye handy. To be a "woman" at FactSet is to just be another valued employee. Women have ownership of products and content sets; women are engineers; women are executives. Our general counsel is a woman. Several of my peers are direct reports to women. Don Draper would think he had died and gone to hell had Sterling been a woman. Perhaps the most impressive line, I think, came when Joan Holloway was breaking in Peggy on her first day. Upon uncovering Peggy's typewriter, Joan says to her: "Don't be overwhelmed by the technology. The man who invented this made it simple enough for a woman to use," to which Peggy replied "I hope so!" In thinking about this a little more, I don't know if Peggy's response was sarcastic, as I get the sense that she is a pretty strong person. When I heard that, however, I was astounded by the implied and accepted inferiority that both of them have; it's a sense that I gather is totally alien to most modern American women.

The second elephant in the room for me was the fact that everyone in this 1950's universe works for the white men. This is not just women, but minorities as well. Not only that, just "traditional" American minorities. Jews still operated in their shadow-universe, as was implied by their foray into having their first Jewish (and, gasp!) female client. Blacks were not to be heard or seen, unless they were bringing you a drink or attending a restroom. And good luck finding an East or South Asian even as an extra. Meanwhile, the corporate world of 2011 is truly a kaleidoscope, not to sound too cliched. In any given day, I will interact with white, black, Indian, Korean, Chinese, and sometimes Filipino coworkers. Yes, technology has made this a smaller world, but the contrast to this racial hierarchy where everyone knew their place really jumped out at me, as well.

Of course, Madison Avenue of the 1950's might have been more rigid in its ways that some other corporate cultures and, in 2011, some of the social inequities of yesteryear still exist. Just look at Wall Street or hedge funds, in particular. And, as a white man myself, I'm even willing to concede that the world of FactSet might not be as flat as I just made it out to be. But, I can't imagine a world like Sterling-Cooper; I just couldn't be that much of an elitist prick where women just deferred to everything a man said or did. And I'm sure Don Draper couldn't imagine a world where he had to take the ideas of women and brown people seriously and treat them as equals. In fact, I'm sure it would never occur to him.

Looking at the big picture, the fact that in the blip of time that is 50 years so much can change about the way we see and value ourselves and the way in which we see and value others is truly amazing.

The "Coronation" of Ohio State and Other March Musings

It's March and, for me, that means two things: my birthday, on the 18th, and the NCAA tournament. Call me crazy, but the latter is so much more meaningful for me than the anniversary of my birth. This is because it's probably the greatest sporting contest there is. Yes, you have to be somewhat good in your corner of the world to qualify, but in no other collegiate tournament structure do you have teams from schools you've never heard of going toe-to-toe with giants like Duke, UNC, and Kansas...and many times beating them. It's agonizing and wonderful.

So, some musings thus far. Since the conference championships, I haven't understood the media's infatuation with Ohio State. It's as like they have won the tournament already. Everything they do is celebrated to the Nth degree, yet besides a complete dismantling of my George Mason Patriots yesterday - a team that isn't really that good, in all honesty - they haven't done all that much. Yes, they only lost 2 regular season games, but they play in the Big Ten, a conference whose prowess is mightily inflated by the sports analysts who call its schools their alma maters. I just don't get it. They beat Penn State - a team which fell in the second round to Temple - by 11 points to win the Big Ten championship. I really don't get it. They might beat Kentucky, but I wouldn't be surprised if they fell to them, either.

UNC. Not so good. Yes, they had a good regular season, but barely made it out against Clemson in the ACC tournament and got crushed by Duke the next game. They had a lackluster performance against lil' old Long Island University and barely scraped by Washington. I think they need to make a statement against Marquette, who beat yet another uninspired Syracuse club yesterday.

I love the Richmond schools this tournament, UR and VCU. In one of my brackets - full disclosure, I filled out six this year - I had both teams in the Sweet 16, so I'm pumped to see what happens. I have Kansas winning it all in all of them, but I would flush it all down the toilet to get to see Richmond play VCU to get to the Final Four, which is more of a possibility for VCU, who next plays Florida State. By the way, can someone tell me what the hell the commotion was about against VCU earlier on in the tourney? Apparently, a lot of people didn't think they deserved an at-large bid. To them, I say it wasn't handed to them: they kneecapped USC to get it.

Finally, like so many of you, I hate Butler. Nothing more to say there.

Like I said, this contest is so awesome because it's so equal. No one is guaranteed success. Unless you're Ohio State.

Can Twitter Be A Force For Good?

For those of you who know me well, put simply - and mildly - I hate Twitter. It's not because I fear change, have a loathing for social media, or don't want information to flow uninhibited (I am blogging, right?), but I have always thought Twitter brought out the worst in our now-TMI culture. I really don't need to have a play-by-play of your child's natural birth, thank you very much.

But, in recent weeks, I have started to feel a change of heart coming on. Whether I hear it on the radio or in a chat with friends over lunch, it seems like Twitter, while giving people the opportunity to broadcast the most inane and intimate details of their frankly boring lives also gives people an opportunity to get news quickly and succinctly. It's like streamlined news. As a process improvement person, how could I not get on this?

So, I ask you, can Twitter truly be a force for good? Is there a way to leverage its speed and efficiency without falling into the "dark side" of mindless dribble? If so, I feel a volte-face coming on. I'd love some opinions; you can leave your comments here, my Facebook page, or email me if you're so inclined. Thanks!