Taken Chances

A while ago my family and I were in Starbucks.  Nothing unusual there.  We would live there if we could.  My son, also as per usual, had his little guitar with him.  After all, he thinks he is Slash.  Upon seeing my Roman walking around with his guitar, a man turned around, pulled out his wallet, and gave Roman his guitar pick that he carries around.

Seems innocuous, right?  Just a man giving a little boy a guitar pick.  But to Roman it made his day.  To my husband and me it told us that someone cared.

This man saw a moment where he could add value and he stepped in.

We all live and go about our day and feel blessed when we make it home at the end.  But I’m finding that simply “living” isn’t enough.

{Ugh, I’m so demanding!}

Finding moments where we can add value and taking the step to insert ourselves into those moments takes courage.  Some of us have it naturally.  Some don’t.  I don’t but I want to.

Sometimes I see people who walk into a room and command it.  Sometimes I meet a person and it’s obvious they know a “secret” to life that I don’t know.  They are intriguing, enchanting even.  Poised but funny.  Intelligent but not obnoxious.

Recently I decided to become one of them.  After all, we live in ‘Merica.  The land of opportunity.  I’m going to create my own opportunities and lasso them.  Make ‘em ma biatch.

But how?

I was miserable at work.  I felt stagnated.  I came to work every day to a bankrupt company with a subversive boss who valued no one but herself.  I have talents.  I have ambition and drive.  But each day I was losing a little bit of it.

I could stay and complain every day.  And every day watch potential opportunities for growth and development fly from my grasp.  Every day I felt like I had so many ideas to help foster positive change but when I voiced them it was as if I were shouting into empty space.

My daughter is seven.  She is old enough to understand that I went to college.  She is old enough to understand that I believe I am just as capable as anyone else to add value to whatever I chose to participate in.  She is old enough to see my frustration every day.

She is also old enough to watch me change my situation.

I started interviewing.

I had a few bites but I was selective.  I finally was offered a position at a large company here in Atlanta.  The monetary offer was life altering for me and my family.  The title and responsibility were not.  Nor was the commute.  In Atlanta, the commute is EVERYTHING.  And, in speaking with friends who worked at the company offering me the new job, the grass wasn’t greener regarding employee morale.  Or processes.

Growing up I was counseled at school and around me to accept what job offer comes and be grateful.   Negotiating is bad form and turning down more money is foolish.  Also, don’t ask for more than you deserve.  Essentially, “you get what you get and you don’t pitch a fit!”

Well, frankly, that’s bullshit.  Who decides what I ‘deserve’?

I thought about the offer.  A lot.  I broke out into hives from the stress of making the wrong decision for my family and for my career.  Hives for 3 weeks.  No Bueno.

The horrible boss I had at my current employer had resigned.  I was a 10 minute drive from my front door to my office.  I was starting to establish credibility among the leadership team.  (Well, what was left of the team.)

What I was missing at my current employer was pay according to the market (I do this for a living so I know what the market value of my job is and it isn’t what I was making but I took the job to get out of a worse situation and that’s beside the point so I’ll leave this tangent now) and the ability to create a better environment for the company.  Aside from that, it was finally good.

So, I had an offer in hand and was about to resign.

Was this an opportunity to take a chance on the strategic direction of my career?

You betcha.

Was this an opportunity to take a risk?

You betcha.

Could this horribly backfire and blow up in ma face?

Definitely.

Here’s what I did:

I decided that if my current company countered I would consider the counter.  I actually wanted a counter.  I wanted to stay.  I wanted to know that I mattered.  I wanted to know that my co-workers valued me enough to fight for me.

If they didn’t, I would know that I was making the right move by leaving.

The counter offer was less money than the outside offer.  But I took it.

The following week a new leader started.  A smart, credentialed leader with a track record for making things happen.  So… I took another chance.

She (my new boss) scheduled a meeting with me last week to discuss my role in the company and the function that I manage.  I came to the meeting with a PowerPoint of all of my issues.  All of the things that led me to seek a job change.  All of the things that, if I were in charge, I would do differently.

And (and listen up, this is important) I brought solutions.

I felt out the company in the room.  If I thought she would be receptive I would give it to her.  If not, I still had my priority list that I was already determined to check off without permission if it came to that.

At the end of our meeting she said, “I’d love to know what you’d like to change”.

I could have said, “Ok, I’ll get that to you”.  I could have said, “Oh, no, everything is great.”

Nope.  I shoved that mild, weak, self-conscious girl back under the table and I whipped out my 17 slide presentation that I printed out.

She loved it so much that she made the other two HR leaders do the same thing.

Here is what I’m learning:

As a woman I have had to train myself to feel competent enough to speak up.

As a natural observer, I have had to learn how and when to give my input.

As a woman I have had to learn the hard way that boobs take way more courage to carry than balls.

forums.oneplus.net

forums.oneplus.net

And as long as I bring ethics and research and solutions to the table I’ll be ok.

As a human being, I’d rather be fired for creating positive change than getting a paycheck by keeping my mouth shut and not sticking up for what is right.

At just one week in, I can say I’m glad I stayed.  In six months I may have a different take.  But now I can at least give my resume more stability by lengthening my tenure at the company.  And maybe I can learn a thing or two from a strong woman in leadership who sits at the big boy table.

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Sno Balls and Ass Sweat

I’ve discovered recently that food trucks bring tha party.  Fo reals.  You could have an empty, run-down parking lot but you call in a few food trucks and BAM!

It’s like Taylor Swift shows up with her bestie Kanye.  Somethin’ for everyone.

About 8 years ago I worked in Tukwila, Washington at Group Health.  Our offices were in the middle of nowhere.  But every once in a while I noticed this gross-looking trailer parked on the street corner selling tacos.  It looked NAH-STEE.  That was my only experience with food trucks until I moved back home to Atlanta.

Once I moved back, a co-worker asked if I had heard of a Korean BBQ food truck that she loved.  I cringed.  I pictured the wretched metal can that looked like it belonged in Leather Face’s front yard.

No thank you.  However, she reassured me that it wasn’t like that.  Then I started hearing more and more about these “food trucks”.

I still didn’t get it.  I’m a little late.

{That’s what she said.}

But then…

A few months ago we were invited by our dear friends to join them at a neighborhood food truck party.  Party???  OK!

It was AWESOME!  There were no rusty, gross, roach-infested metal trailer cans anywhere.  What I did see were beautifully decorated portable food huts that happened to have wheels.  The food was AH-MAY-ZING.

I had delicious LOBSTER MAC N CHEESE from Cousins Main Lobster.  OH MY GOSH.  The lobster chunks were the size of fully grown children.

There was live music, the kids were dancing and playing, the adults were dancing and drinking, it was so fun!

Last weekend we repeated our adventure with another food truck party that more friends invited us to.  {Yes, I DO have more than one friend.}

Remember Moet?  Of course you do.  Always a good time with that one.

This food truck festival was even bigger than the one before!  And one thing I realized this time was the COMPETITION between the different food trucks!  A healthy, friendly competition, though.

My hubs and I went to the Mac n Cheese truck for Roman then I went to the AngelFire7 BBQ truck to get Bella a BBQ sandwich while Rick went to get our food at a different truck.  While I was waiting on her BBQ the owner walks over to me and said that I should try THEIR mac n cheese.  “It’s won awards” he says.

Then he gave me a sample which was VERY difficult to eat with my hands full.  I ended up grabbing the cup with my teeth, turning it up, and hoping that some of it made it’s way into my mouth.  Some did. Some didn’t.  It really was delicious.  I highly recommend that place.  BBQ, mac n cheese, and shrimp tacos ALL DELICIOUS!

He looked at the runny, soupy mac n cheese that I had and said, “I’m surprised.  I know the guy who runs that place.  He’s better than that.” Lol, well ok, then.

Another difference between the two food truck fiestas: the weather.  Last week the humidity was out in full Atlanta-in-August force.  It was SOOOOO HOT.  Five minutes outside was suffocating.  As I’m standing in line to get my food I could feel the sweat falling from my butt cheeks down my bare legs and there was nothing I could do.  It looked like I was peeing.  There is no looking cute in that situation.

{For the record, I was clothed.  I just realized it sounds like I’m describing myself as though I’m not wearing anything from the waist down.  This time, that wasn’t the case.}

The one saving grace: SnoBayou.  I am officially a groupie.  It’s like the shaved ice huts from my childhood had an affair with an ice cream stand which produced a more attractive baby.  It’s light, sweet, cold, delicious, OH EM GEE in my mouth.

{That’s what she said.} 

I stood in the middle of the parking lot by myself, with sweat pee dripping down my legs from my butt cheeks, making sweet, sweet mouth love to my sno ball.  And it was turriffic.  I bought two.  One for me, one for my kids.  They’re lucky one made it back.  I got chocolate and raspberry with vanilla ice cream in the middle, topped with sno cream.  I highly recommend it.

Ok, enough of that.  Here is my final thought:

Food trucks bring people together.  Just like spiders.  No, not like spiders.  Food trucks bring people together in the name of party.  Not in the name of fear.  I’m addicted.  All parties should have the following: music, alcohol, me, food trucks.  The end.

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