Talk about expensive obsessions. For years now, I have been on the never-ending quest for both THE perfect pen and THE perfect perfume. How are these related? I’ve thought about that a bit, and I think that both of those things are highly personal ways of denoting our uniqueness. “Wow, where did you get that awesome pen?” (not BIC) or, “How refreshing and clean you smell!” (not Emeraude)

I have never been able to settle on a single scent, and if I like one today, chances are good I won’t like it tomorrow. This is not good. This is very EXPENSIVE! My son has fueled this propensity of mine even more. He is a free-wheeling, money-making 20-something who has something like 20 colognes, three of which are Creed. Now, if you’re not familiar with Creed, we’re talking big ones. As in bucks. Lovely scents, but still. So as he self-educates all about the merits (and not) of various scents, he keeps telling me I’ll love this, I have to get that, nd so on. Problem is — I do, what he says, that is.

Now, pens. I’m on my own with the pen obsession, and it probably stems way back to those little number and letter boxes we had in first and second grade. I loved those things. Don’t ask me to explain the correlation, just trust me, it’s there. My pen odyssey is, simply put, out of control. I have boxes of pens all over the house. I am not satisfied with just one pen, I have to get the package with one of each color. Then there are the expensive pens. I’ve held the reins somewhat on this, but I could still have put the money I’ve spent on pens to other, more sensible use.

The answer? I am looking for some really great smelling soap and I’m going to borrow my son’s BIC stick pen.

Or so my boyfriend tells me. I guess he should know because he became deaf at the age of 23. At the time he was a factory worker and he has since gone on to get a masters  degree and become a professor at a well known university. That transition would certainly be what I call a miracle. I am  in need of a many miracles at the moment for various and assorted reasons I won’t bore you with. Mine are beginning to show a glimmer of light in the distance, so I would like to pass on some small bit of wisdom about how miracles can happen to you.

• Don’t try to make it happen: Too, too, too many people try to control, manipulate, and insist that things happen the way they want. You can’t make miracles happen. You can make something happen, but miracles are not in your control. I know of a man who is very controlling and manipulative, and he is constantly insisting that everything be in his control and happen the way he wants. This same man is always complaining about his bad luck. Duh! When you make it happen (unless its a job task or something you are required to do professionally), it interferes with the way things are supposed to happen, which is what miracles are!

• Don’t sit around and wait: This is the opposite of making it happen. Many people get in such a tizz over their issues that instead of carrying on with their days, they become virtually paralyzed, think obsessively, have panic attacks, and hyperventilate.

• Breathe: The breath is the greatest gift we have been given. No matter what your state of mind, stop every now and then, and watch yourself breathe. It’s a most fascinating thing, to put your mind onto your breathing — in, out, in, out. And it is astonishingly soothing. Beats Xanax for sure!

• Live: Once you have figured out how to breathe again, your next step is to simply live. Go about your days, focus on the task at hand, take control of your thoughts when they start to wander to unsettling things,  but be gentle in the process.

• Do good work: Ah, for me there’s nothing more comforting and reassuring than doing good work. First, it requires presence of mind, second, it has a beginning and an end, and third, it affords a terrific sense of self-esteem for a job well-done.

• Let go of it: They say let go and let God in Twelve Step groups, but even just the concept of let go is tremendously valuable. The thing we all do is hope, pray, and wish for a certain outcome. We need money, a new car, improved health. But that’s not how it works. Miracles are very independent creatures. You need money to pay the mortgage? Suddenly you get a call for a new job that pays twice what you make now. Or the county wants to buy your house for a new road going through. That’s how it works. Things happen, and they happen when and how you least expect.

So, Merry Christmas, and here’s to your miracles!

I’ve been around various business enclaves and individuals for many, many, moons, and I feel compelled to write about and share what I’ve learned over these moon cycles. Most of my writings here are from the point of view of dealing with clients, but hopefully applicable as well to whatever business situation you find yourself in.

1. You can’t change them: I recently did work for a man who had a skewed view that people were out to get him, especially from a financial standpoint. No matter what the true situation and real intentions were, this man felt exploited and acted from that perception. The moral of this story is to make the effort to understand where your business contacts are coming from and act accordingly by either accommodating their quirks, or exiting stage left. In my situation, I should have exited long, long before I did, but retrospect is golden.
2. Beware of focus issues: One of the most stressful and ultimately disastrous experiences I had was dealing with an individual who simply could not remain focused on the project tasks at hand. In fact, on most of his projects he would change direction multiple times, never allowing for the time it takes to see the fruits of our labors.
3. Watch out for hyper rabbit behaviors: Similar to Number 2, but ultimately more disastrous. The same individual would become discouraged if a project, in this case websites, did not make immediate returns, and I mean immediate. He’d then launch into this rabbit jumping thing and move onto something else. Frankly, it was crazy behavior, and my advice to you is to get out quick if you see this kind of thing going on because no matter what you do, you’ll be blamed. You simply won’t win.
4. Make sure you have a contract: Oh what a fool I was! (Isn’t there a song with that title?) I “trusted” one fool client and never wrote up a contract. I did work for him for 4 years and one day he simply closed shop and I was left with a big fat nothing, as in zero, as in no provision for some sort of separation accommodation. This was a VERY rough lesson to learn the hard way.
5. Avoid falling on deaf ears: This is one of those things that happens often in business and frankly, there’s not a whole lot you can do about it. But, what you CAN do is watch for danger signals such as when what you do say is turned against you in manipulative ways, or consider quitting when you see things beginning to crumble when your ideas could have contributed to a more successful outcome.
6. Guard against control, control, control: If you are working as a service provider/independent contractor, MAKE SURE that you make it clear that you are charging for deliverables where time is not a consideration, or you’re billing by the hour, where obviously time is an issue. In your contract, spell out either that you’re charging a flat fee for specific projects or that you will bill only for the hours you work and you will determine when you work those hours, not the client. It’s important that you get this straight from the start to prevent future stress and misunderstanding as well as to maintain control of your professional life.
7. Be on guard against mood swings and other mental health issues: I worked for one guy whose mood swings were not only scary, but also detrimental to the work at hand. One day he was high as the sky, the next day, low as mowed lawn. Unless you are a trained shrink, there’s not a darn thing you can do in these situations but run as fast and as far as you can.

I think the most important piece of advice I can pass on to you is to keep the focus on yourself, and take care of yourself, no matter what the situation you find yourself in. It’s very easy to fall victim to business bullies and those who otherwise prey on those of us who aim to please. But ultimately, if you have not pleased yourself by finding good work, working for reasonable and fair people, your reputation and confidence will suffer and set you up for future failure. Not a good place to be, and a place you can definitely avoid.

Several readers have asked me why I write about Diane Schuler when my main theme is about business writing and rhetoric. Before when they asked me, I couldn’t give them any better answer than there was something about the whole story that was riveting, compelling, and false. Something was missing, something big. And thus I wrote to find understanding. I do believe I now have it.

I ask you to take a brief journey to check out the surveillance video of when Diane stopped at a gas station and went in looking for analgesics for her excruciatingly painful tooth.

Ponder a moment. What did you see? Did you see what I saw?

I was shocked. I did NOT see the pretty woman in the white suit, standing next to her husband, both wearing broad smiles. I did NOT see the cute mother in sunglasses surrounded by her beautiful children and handsome husband.

What I DID see was a surprisingly big woman, a woman who walked into that convenience store with an almost masculine stride, a woman who left the store empty handed and went back to her red minivan where she evidently did something that took quite some time: settle the children? Rearrange stuff in the car? Drink a significant amount of vodka?

After this seemingly long pause, I saw a red minivan pull out quite purposefully, and head out to the main road where, it appeared to me, Diane pulled  right out in front of an ongoing vehicle. Help me, did I see this right? Am I mistaken?

Here’s what I am thinking. I am thinking that Diane was pissed — mega-pissed — when that convenience store did not have any pain meds. From that point on, her anger took over. Think about the reports of her aggressive and erratic driving — honking, lights flashing, tailgating, dangerous passing. Aren’t these the kinds of things characteristic of road rage? In her state of red and irrational anger, she drank, and she drank, and she drank some more. And as she poured liquid fire down her throat, it was an antidote to her anger, until it wasn’t.

Let me say that I think Diane Schuler’s husband, Danny, and his lawyer, Dominic Barbara (where’s he been lately?) painted an extraordinarily un-Diane picture so we would all keep shaking our heads wondering what wasn’t feeling right about all of this. I read somewhere else recently where Diane was at times brusque and abrasive. She was the breadwinner — earning over $100,000 per year while poor Danny slugged away at $48,000 as a night patrol person in local parks. Her sister-in-law, Danny’s sister, admitted several weeks ago that Diane smoked pot every day and that she was a heavy drinker. This Diane is the round peg, round hole answer to the puzzle.

So why the ruse? Many reasons, the insurance — surely Danny is now terrified wondering how he will support himself and his surviving child, Danny’s denial and desperate need to keep Diane as his wonder woman, the family’s real desire to keep Diane’s name from being blackened for the same of her son, and many, many, more.

But in the meantime, the Bastardi family who seeks the truth, who NEEDS to truth to put closure to their nightmare of death, must dwell in a cesspool of their own anger, anger that will never truly mitigate until they have found their round peg and round hole. God bless, you, Bastardi family.

I am chagrined and frustrated. I’ve had two annoying experiences in the last week, both at the hands of lovely people, but both in the hands of poor quality workpersonship.

Episode number 1: Several weeks ago I changed my primary care doctor, and so, like a good subscriber should, I called Blue Cross Blue Shield to let them know and request my new ID card. Deed done, task accomplished. Wrong. After a week went by and no card arrived, I put it in my craw that I needed to followup with the Blues. Life intervened with other tasks, and, unfortunately, unexpected illness.  I needed to see my new physician for the Swine flu, and fortunately, I was covered, but still didn’t have my new insurance card.  Finally today I had the time to call the Blues — AGAIN — and got another lovely person. This lovely noted that the previous lovely person I’d spoken to had not issued the computer command to send me my new card. Was I supposed to have done something? Every time I changed docs in the past, the card was automatically generated. Double duty — no thanks.

Episode number 2:  That new doc I was talking about? I had to  see her — twice because of this flu thing. After the first visit, I cjecked out, got my appointment card for the next visit, and went off on my coughing, sniffling, miserable way. It took a few days before I felt up to hobbling over the my desk and updating my calendar, and when I did, I was frustrated to find that I indeed had a lovely card, complete with the appointment date, sans appointment time. The person who did this was indeed lovely, but. … So, another double duty — called back, today in fact, spoke with someone (also lovely) and went through the whole computer thing with her to get the time, which I successfully did.

Now to my point. These stories per se are not important, and I suspect that one minute after reading this, you will forget them. What I hope you won’t forget is the big question about what’s going on with the quality of work in today’s workplaces. In my experience there are too many loose ends, too many tasks undone, too little confidence in worker competence, and so on. Is it because of outsourcing, and if yes, what about outsourcing? Is it because companies are cutting back on worker training? Or perhaps there is more of an attitude of the customer be damned in some segments of the business arena?

I don’t know the answer, and I sure wish I did. What I do know is that I am scared. Real scared. Please, someone out there, tell me a story and give me an answer that ends with “happily ever after!”

I came upon a valuable post today about listening. The author, Jim Morrison, makes the very valid point that listening is the Rodney Dangerfield of communication skills, and The Most Neglected Skill at Work. The irony of this is stunning when you consider that listening accounts for an estimated 44 — 46% of daily communication time. Compare this with writing: 8 to 10%, reading: 14 to 16%, and speaking: 29 to 31%.

I teach business communications courses at a local university, and I do include a unit on listening along with an assignment. But, after pondering Jim’s comments, I think I shall expand this unit in the future. I also plan to design and offer a course on listening for my Donovan-Wright Associates education offerings.

Thanks, Jim, for bringing to our attention a sadly undervalued skill.

Whoa! I just finished reading a post from Yo Prinzel who has become my personal hero — at least for the day. First, we all know the freelance writing biz is, shall we say, like standing on the shoreline of a great body of water and hoping desperately to get to the other side despite hurricane winds and 30 foot waves. In other words, the journey to find and get work is, interesting.

Now, get this, the woman I mention here came across and applied for  a $7000 gig on Elance  (I am not a fan). All went well — resume, writing samples, application — and she was in the running along with three other writers — and impressive feat in the stormy seas of Elance.

Now for the clincher: the company rep required that each finalist write a three to five page rewrite — FOR FREE!! My hero withdrew from the running because:

“It isn’t practical for a writer to give every prospective client a free sample. It is cost prohibitive, supplies the potential client with free content that the writer would normally get paid for, and should not be necessary when samples and recommendations are available.”

AND

“Asking for a free sample that will take hours to complete shows a disrespect for the writer’s professional experience, time and talent. If you were really blown away by a writer’s samples and experience, you would have the respect necessary to hire based on that. Since that is not the case, I would guess you haven’t found the right writer yet and I will just take myself out of the running while thanking you for your consideration.”

Now the question becomes, was she stupid to blow this gig off? In my opinion, she did not “blow it off.” She simply took a good look at serious indicators that this gig could be a setup for personal and professional disaster. Reason? If  a company exploits the hungry and needy just because they can, what does that portend for how they will treat these same in the future?

Not good, not good at all. Go for good karma, folks and screw the slavery.

The Diance Schuler case — about the young woman who barrelled down the Taconic Highway in Westchester County the wrong way, killing eight including 4 children in her car. This case has riveted me, and I often think about the missing links, the round peg to replace the square one that wouldn’t fit in the hole. For months her husband, Danny, and the charlatan of a lawyer he hired, proclaimed from the mountaintops to all who would (and wouldn’t) listen that Diane Schuler was not a lush, that Diane Schuler drank very rarely, and that Diane Schuler had never, ever, been drunk.

Well, slam, bam, no-thank-you m’am, burst that balloon with a bang. At long last, as I knew would eventually happen, someone has come forth, Diane’s sister-in-law no less, on record with her statement that Diane used pot — every day, and that Diane was a drinker — a heavy one.

And so there went those innocent children on that July day, the lambs to the lion. And there went those good and strong men, smashed by a woman who never saw it coming. Everyone else did.

For me, the sister-in-law’s statement gives resolution to the non-mystery that remained a mystery because no one came forward. But now I feel betrayed — betrayed by Danny who is out to save his body, soul, and more valiantly, the privacy of his survivor son. Mostly, I feel betrayed by Diane, the “amazing” mother, professional woman, and whatever else she was, who drowned her pain, sorrow, and stress in a sea of liquor and a fog of marijuana.

Today the street was lined with walls of leaves, golden in the late afternoon sun. Encased as in a cacoon  I am  lulled by the illusion of permanent warmth and safety. Soon, though, these piles will be white, and cold, and dangerous.

I am sitting here, staring at the wall, counting ladybugs. It’s that time of year, those few weeks when the sun is warm inside, cool outside, and the throngs of ladybugs somehow find their way into the sunny spots in my house. In fact, there were so many of them the other day that one was swimming around in my wine. I felt sure the poor dear wouldn’t make it, but make it she did, with nary a stagger as she forged her way across the table once rescued.

I am staring at the wall today because I am starting to feel the exiting remnants of the flu that goes oink and I am feeling like I should be doing something only I don’t feel like doing anything other than writing something inane like this.

So I am glad to have these ladybugs for company on this late fall afternoon, and maybe tomorrow I’ll feel like doing something.