There is this standard line I use in my speech about the application process. I've been giving it a lot lately, given the time of year, and to groups from 20 to 900, both at my place of work and on location. It has to do with proofreading and, without giving too much away, references using the name of School A in an essay written for School B and how School B will make admission to School A happen for you because of it.
No, really, it's actually a funny joke. And I've been using it for 6 years. And I stole it, along with the rest of my colleagues, at what we'll call School A.
It's always killed. Parents and students think it's hysterical. It's the silliest little joke, but it works. So I stick with it.
It does, however, require mentioning the competition and, well, perhaps slightly implying a student's desire for the competition over us. But, again, it's silly and quick and harmless and really all it's about is getting kids to pay attention to what they submit to different schools.
Well, it's officially gotten me and my staff in trouble.
We all do some variation of quickly naming the competition in a humorous way and moving along. Our boss' boss, it was revealed to me today, has received three different complaints about our "defensiveness" about different schools and how inappropriate it is.
When I used this joke at School A, I never never never never heard a single complaint. So I've figured out the problem.
Washington, DC - you have NO sense of humor. Period.
I have to call General Counsel at least once a week to get permission to do something that I know, from taking a Legal Issues class for my master's, is completely unnecessary. Why? Because I work for a private institution and, well, we have a boatload of autonomy if precedence has anything to do with it.
Washington, DC - you host a correspondent's dinner once a year that allows you to let out the funny, but that's it. Karl Rove does an embarrassing rap while David Gregory dances in the background and it's "Thank you, DC! GOOD NIGHT!" until next year.
I now will soon have to tell my staff that we can no longer make references to other schools, period.
Basically, we can't attempt any humor in trying to humanize a process that causes a great deal of stress for the people with whom we deal.
Shame on you Washington, DC. Shame on you.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
On fame and the wheel of fortune...
Tuesday was a big day in my professional career. I was one of three featured "quotes" in an article in the USA Today. I was quoted about three times, and my name was in the opening sentence of the article.
I travel a lot for work, as you know, and the USA Today is a publication I've come to know as the McPaper. It's just kind of a silly newspaper. Short articles, big pictures and kinder, gentler fonts. Let's be realistic. Still, it was a big moment for me and I seemed to come off ok in representing my place of work and my field in general.
So what did it get me? Some great praise from family and friends, certainly. But what did it GET me?
My big moment of recognition came today when I received the following phone call:
"Yes, hello! This is Bill Blahdeblah from Blahdeeblah and Hill. Great feature in the USA Today! How did the event go for you?"
"Oh, thank you. It was fine. We're getting feedback from the staff on everyone's experience."
"Well that's just great. Hey, I wanted to call and introduce myself and my company to see if there's a fit."
Yep, a sales call.
It was kind of depressing, really. I expect nothing to come from this article, other than jokes about me an my pajamas from those who read it. But to have him play the "Wow look at you!" card in a sales call. It bummed me out.
Then I took a moment to think about what he does for work. Scanning the USA Today for potential clients to cold call offering a service that takes the personalization out of my work completely.
Ok. Maybe receiving the call wasn't so bad after all. MAKING the call was the depressing part.
I travel a lot for work, as you know, and the USA Today is a publication I've come to know as the McPaper. It's just kind of a silly newspaper. Short articles, big pictures and kinder, gentler fonts. Let's be realistic. Still, it was a big moment for me and I seemed to come off ok in representing my place of work and my field in general.
So what did it get me? Some great praise from family and friends, certainly. But what did it GET me?
My big moment of recognition came today when I received the following phone call:
"Yes, hello! This is Bill Blahdeblah from Blahdeeblah and Hill. Great feature in the USA Today! How did the event go for you?"
"Oh, thank you. It was fine. We're getting feedback from the staff on everyone's experience."
"Well that's just great. Hey, I wanted to call and introduce myself and my company to see if there's a fit."
Yep, a sales call.
It was kind of depressing, really. I expect nothing to come from this article, other than jokes about me an my pajamas from those who read it. But to have him play the "Wow look at you!" card in a sales call. It bummed me out.
Then I took a moment to think about what he does for work. Scanning the USA Today for potential clients to cold call offering a service that takes the personalization out of my work completely.
Ok. Maybe receiving the call wasn't so bad after all. MAKING the call was the depressing part.
On letting the world know...
My friend Chrissy passed the New York Bar Exam and I am so incredibly proud of her.
Way to go, Chads!!!!!
Way to go, Chads!!!!!
Sunday, November 4, 2007
On the season in review..
I'm breaking a major travel rule of mine as I type. I've officially succumbed to my total suburban solo recruitment travel boredom.
I'm downstairs in the hotel bar having a drink. By myself.
What most people don't understand are the different rules women have to live by while traveling. After 6 years in the profession I had to be reminded by two women older than me in the office that I should never EVER arrive in a city I'm traveling to at night. Why? Cuz I'm a woman, traveling alone. Really, that should be enough. But some of these places were new to me, others not. Still, I shouldn't be wandering rental car parking garages or getting into taxis by myself once darkness falls. I guess because nothing has ever happened to me before, I take this for granted. But, new rule to be enforced next season - no arriving by myself at night. Done.
Sips wine. Mmm.. Delish.
Right, so the rule I'm breaking. My first or second year on the road I made the mistake of showing up to the Cheesecake Factory in Seattle and eating at the bar. It was the only way I was going to get to eat within the hour, and I've blogged before about the crappy treatment solo diners receive in restaurants. The bartender, alternatively, treated me like a queen, but the gentleman next to me, the one who was a roadie for Ozzy Osbourne, talked my freakin' ear off. Of particular interest was the concept he'd installed for the screen show that opened Ozzy's set. Something about static and maggots. Yes, it was fascinating.. and went over really well as I ate my Southern Fried Chicken Salad.
Ever since that fateful day, I've had a rule of no sitting at bars by myself when traveling. Fair or not, it sends this message of "I want to be talked to.. especially by a guy." and, really, I don't want to be talked to right now. I'm just bored as hell. And I really wanted a drink.
And I wasn't going to be that person that orders a drink for room service and has some poor waiter bring a glass of wine up to my room. I also didn't feel like my drink costing me an extra $3. But, at the risk of sounding like I have a problem, I just really wanted a drink tonight.
After keeping my boyfriend on the phone for about 45 minutes for no good reason, I walked downstairs to stake the place out. Filled with guys watching football. Sigh. OK. But to the left was a woman sitting at a table typing on her laptop. That's it! Take advantage of the wireless signal, order a glass of wine, have the game in the background and just get out of the room. Fantastic.
So here I am. And no one seems to be questioning my presence. Hooray!
So why do I really want a drink? I think it's some subconscious celebration of the fact that my recruitment travel season ends with this trip. I am quite excited about that. I miss home. I miss my boyfriend. I miss my friends. I hate that I'm not around for anything fun that gets scheduled (from national book festivals to happy hours). Plus I get this paranoia on the road that it doesn't matter that I'm gone and, well, that's no good to an only child.
Of course, there remains a rocky road ahead at work. But we'll be in review time soon, and that is my favorite time of year. Even though it's incredibly grueling, I love application time in admissions. I like to think of it as what separates the real deals from the passersby in the profession. If you don't love the file review time, yes MORE than travel, you're never going to last. Eventually, the travel loses its luster. It may be exciting at first, but it becomes downright draining. Plus, when you have people you love at home, you tend to focus on how much it stinks that you're not there. Finally, admissions, REAL admissions, is not so much about recruitment but about process.
OK, so some other lessons I've learned this year, in addition to never arriving at my destination at night..
Go with what you know... I KNOW I'm supposed to stay true to my hotel chain of choice, in order to build up the points. But I got talked out of my loyalty and ended up splitting my travel between chains. As such, I'm not building up to a string of free nights that way I could have. Grr. That will change in the spring.
Stop ordering room service. Or, let me clarify, stop thinking that the French Dip Sandwich from room service is a natural part of any healthy travel diet. Seriously, I think I've eaten 20 in the past month. Find the Whole Foods and get the salad bar, whenever possible.
No more potato chips or french fries. Time to adopt that once Lent sacrifice back into my life. My adoration for carbohydrates and sodium in addition to my love for the French dip sandwich is no longer something from which I am able to quickly recover.
Use plane time for work time! This has been the most fantastic lesson I have learned this year. I have specific projects I save for the plane. It makes the time absolutely fly and keeps my attention better than a book. Plus, it makes me feel much more productive and more entitled to crashing or exploring once I reach my destination. Plus, it makes me look important.
Stop fretting. Period.
Despite your desire to avoid it, check your work voicemail. I change my work voice mail every trip in order to instruct people that I'm gone, I won't return their call until I get back unless they want to send me an e-mail. Grr. They end up leaving me messages anyway and it gets me in trouble. Why can't I beat the system?
Get a rental car. Always. Having a car would have curbed a great deal of boredom, and given the fact that I'll most certainly end up paying at least $80 getting to and from the hotel in cabs, a rental car would have been worth the investment. I'd be out exploring right now!
Finally, leave the hotel bar when the Cowboys fans show up. They'll make your room look so much better.
I'm downstairs in the hotel bar having a drink. By myself.
What most people don't understand are the different rules women have to live by while traveling. After 6 years in the profession I had to be reminded by two women older than me in the office that I should never EVER arrive in a city I'm traveling to at night. Why? Cuz I'm a woman, traveling alone. Really, that should be enough. But some of these places were new to me, others not. Still, I shouldn't be wandering rental car parking garages or getting into taxis by myself once darkness falls. I guess because nothing has ever happened to me before, I take this for granted. But, new rule to be enforced next season - no arriving by myself at night. Done.
Sips wine. Mmm.. Delish.
Right, so the rule I'm breaking. My first or second year on the road I made the mistake of showing up to the Cheesecake Factory in Seattle and eating at the bar. It was the only way I was going to get to eat within the hour, and I've blogged before about the crappy treatment solo diners receive in restaurants. The bartender, alternatively, treated me like a queen, but the gentleman next to me, the one who was a roadie for Ozzy Osbourne, talked my freakin' ear off. Of particular interest was the concept he'd installed for the screen show that opened Ozzy's set. Something about static and maggots. Yes, it was fascinating.. and went over really well as I ate my Southern Fried Chicken Salad.
Ever since that fateful day, I've had a rule of no sitting at bars by myself when traveling. Fair or not, it sends this message of "I want to be talked to.. especially by a guy." and, really, I don't want to be talked to right now. I'm just bored as hell. And I really wanted a drink.
And I wasn't going to be that person that orders a drink for room service and has some poor waiter bring a glass of wine up to my room. I also didn't feel like my drink costing me an extra $3. But, at the risk of sounding like I have a problem, I just really wanted a drink tonight.
After keeping my boyfriend on the phone for about 45 minutes for no good reason, I walked downstairs to stake the place out. Filled with guys watching football. Sigh. OK. But to the left was a woman sitting at a table typing on her laptop. That's it! Take advantage of the wireless signal, order a glass of wine, have the game in the background and just get out of the room. Fantastic.
So here I am. And no one seems to be questioning my presence. Hooray!
So why do I really want a drink? I think it's some subconscious celebration of the fact that my recruitment travel season ends with this trip. I am quite excited about that. I miss home. I miss my boyfriend. I miss my friends. I hate that I'm not around for anything fun that gets scheduled (from national book festivals to happy hours). Plus I get this paranoia on the road that it doesn't matter that I'm gone and, well, that's no good to an only child.
Of course, there remains a rocky road ahead at work. But we'll be in review time soon, and that is my favorite time of year. Even though it's incredibly grueling, I love application time in admissions. I like to think of it as what separates the real deals from the passersby in the profession. If you don't love the file review time, yes MORE than travel, you're never going to last. Eventually, the travel loses its luster. It may be exciting at first, but it becomes downright draining. Plus, when you have people you love at home, you tend to focus on how much it stinks that you're not there. Finally, admissions, REAL admissions, is not so much about recruitment but about process.
OK, so some other lessons I've learned this year, in addition to never arriving at my destination at night..
Go with what you know... I KNOW I'm supposed to stay true to my hotel chain of choice, in order to build up the points. But I got talked out of my loyalty and ended up splitting my travel between chains. As such, I'm not building up to a string of free nights that way I could have. Grr. That will change in the spring.
Stop ordering room service. Or, let me clarify, stop thinking that the French Dip Sandwich from room service is a natural part of any healthy travel diet. Seriously, I think I've eaten 20 in the past month. Find the Whole Foods and get the salad bar, whenever possible.
No more potato chips or french fries. Time to adopt that once Lent sacrifice back into my life. My adoration for carbohydrates and sodium in addition to my love for the French dip sandwich is no longer something from which I am able to quickly recover.
Use plane time for work time! This has been the most fantastic lesson I have learned this year. I have specific projects I save for the plane. It makes the time absolutely fly and keeps my attention better than a book. Plus, it makes me feel much more productive and more entitled to crashing or exploring once I reach my destination. Plus, it makes me look important.
Stop fretting. Period.
Despite your desire to avoid it, check your work voicemail. I change my work voice mail every trip in order to instruct people that I'm gone, I won't return their call until I get back unless they want to send me an e-mail. Grr. They end up leaving me messages anyway and it gets me in trouble. Why can't I beat the system?
Get a rental car. Always. Having a car would have curbed a great deal of boredom, and given the fact that I'll most certainly end up paying at least $80 getting to and from the hotel in cabs, a rental car would have been worth the investment. I'd be out exploring right now!
Finally, leave the hotel bar when the Cowboys fans show up. They'll make your room look so much better.
On making your hands sweat...
It's a very strange thing to me that I could ever possibly make someone nervous.
Even in my work, where I currently have a fancy dancy title, I go out of my way to make the students I work with more comfortable. My style is more casual with weak attempts at humor from time to time. I even apologized to a student I was interviewing today because I was wearing a suit. I explained these were supposed to be informal chats not meant to intimidate, and that the suit was simply required for my next event. Still, it felt like I'd constructed a barrier I could not break down.
As I checked people in for our event today, a father and son approached who recognized me, though I did not recognize them. I hate that, as I typically have a good memory for at least faces, not to mention the fact that I hate to be on the receiving end of a lack of recognition that I've met someone before.
The father made an effort to talk to me separately about his son's particular interest in the school, how he'd been in love with our school since halfway through my remarks at the open house they attended. I could tell he was sincere and this wasn't about flattery. His son had made a real connection with our institution and I could see the fear in his eyes that his boy may not make it there.
Sometimes it's easy to forget you can have that sort of influence. And then consequently terrifying when you realize you do.
His father is a great guy, and looks a lot like the late Paul Wellstone, one of my favorite US politicians ever, so the family has that going for them.
The son waited to say hello to me after the event. I could tell in the little body language I spotted as I spoke to the girl in line ahead of him that he was really nervous to talk to me. And, poor kid, he basically displayed every bit of awkward behavior you possibly can.
First, he started speaking to me as I was still saying good-bye to the student before him. I think he'd been rehearsing.
Second, he began to drop things. And not even drop things, but shift in such a way that the papers he was holding basically flew towards me and attacked my face. I'm proud to report I caught them before any scarring occurred.
Thirdly, he used awkward phrases. Such as, when the papers went flying at my face he said, "Well, that seals it."
Huh? I get that's funny if he meant he wasn't getting in now. But it's not what he meant. Trust me.
Anyway, he's a sweet kid, and he really just wanted to say how much my remarks meant to him early on and how excited he was to attend AU. But there was nothing particularly natural about our exchange, no matter how hard I tried. It also didn't help that he punched his dad in the stomach with his elbow as a sign to "back off, I'm talking!'. Yikes.
I wish him all the best in the process. He's a sweet kid. He wants our school badly. It will break my heart if we can't make it happen for him.
Everyone thinks I can do whatever I want, admit whoever I want. I'm the boss, right? Well, no. I have a responsibility to my school. I can't admit a kid who won't succeed. And I'm a little nervous about this one. I feel he's a bit like Red Riding Hood. And I feel like we, DC and its environs, may be the big bad wolf. I hope he proves me wrong. I really really do.
Even in my work, where I currently have a fancy dancy title, I go out of my way to make the students I work with more comfortable. My style is more casual with weak attempts at humor from time to time. I even apologized to a student I was interviewing today because I was wearing a suit. I explained these were supposed to be informal chats not meant to intimidate, and that the suit was simply required for my next event. Still, it felt like I'd constructed a barrier I could not break down.
As I checked people in for our event today, a father and son approached who recognized me, though I did not recognize them. I hate that, as I typically have a good memory for at least faces, not to mention the fact that I hate to be on the receiving end of a lack of recognition that I've met someone before.
The father made an effort to talk to me separately about his son's particular interest in the school, how he'd been in love with our school since halfway through my remarks at the open house they attended. I could tell he was sincere and this wasn't about flattery. His son had made a real connection with our institution and I could see the fear in his eyes that his boy may not make it there.
Sometimes it's easy to forget you can have that sort of influence. And then consequently terrifying when you realize you do.
His father is a great guy, and looks a lot like the late Paul Wellstone, one of my favorite US politicians ever, so the family has that going for them.
The son waited to say hello to me after the event. I could tell in the little body language I spotted as I spoke to the girl in line ahead of him that he was really nervous to talk to me. And, poor kid, he basically displayed every bit of awkward behavior you possibly can.
First, he started speaking to me as I was still saying good-bye to the student before him. I think he'd been rehearsing.
Second, he began to drop things. And not even drop things, but shift in such a way that the papers he was holding basically flew towards me and attacked my face. I'm proud to report I caught them before any scarring occurred.
Thirdly, he used awkward phrases. Such as, when the papers went flying at my face he said, "Well, that seals it."
Huh? I get that's funny if he meant he wasn't getting in now. But it's not what he meant. Trust me.
Anyway, he's a sweet kid, and he really just wanted to say how much my remarks meant to him early on and how excited he was to attend AU. But there was nothing particularly natural about our exchange, no matter how hard I tried. It also didn't help that he punched his dad in the stomach with his elbow as a sign to "back off, I'm talking!'. Yikes.
I wish him all the best in the process. He's a sweet kid. He wants our school badly. It will break my heart if we can't make it happen for him.
Everyone thinks I can do whatever I want, admit whoever I want. I'm the boss, right? Well, no. I have a responsibility to my school. I can't admit a kid who won't succeed. And I'm a little nervous about this one. I feel he's a bit like Red Riding Hood. And I feel like we, DC and its environs, may be the big bad wolf. I hope he proves me wrong. I really really do.
On the little things...
There are two "little things" that I value above all others. One is laughter. The other is kindness. Perhaps when considered alone they're not all that little, but, in the context of life, neither require much, but their presence can make all the difference.
Take, for example, my arrival here Friday evening. My cabbie interaction wasn't my favorite part of the day, and then the front desk people thought I was married and a man. Plus, I was tired and increasingly discouraged by the fact that I would be "stranded" for the next few nights in this suburban hotel with nothing in walking distance. It wasn't adding up to a great night.
I walked into the handicapped designed room I didn't need (the big bathroom is great but I'd gladly exchange it for a real closet, an ironing board, and the need to not mop up the shower water from the floor) and threw my bags down. As I walked into the bathroom, I saw this:
It cracked me up. For a few minutes. So, thank you to this hotel for that. My question, in all sincerity, is do I get to keep the duck?
Onto kindness. So there is ONE place within walking distance from the hotel. I built up the courage to run across the big highway in front of my hotel to get lunch at Potbelly. I was good enough to shower for these folks, but didn't do my hair nor did I apply any makeup. I was there to grab a sandwich for lunch, not to win any type of beauty pageants.
The minute I walked in, I was treated like royalty. And I wasn't the only person in the joint. They're just THAT nice.
Everyone was smiling. Eyes were twinkling. Everyone said hello and asked how I was. The staff chatted me up as my sandwich was made. When the sandwich guy made a mistake and realized his error, it was a team effort to get my sandwich right again. And the manager said, "You know what I'm going to do? I'm doing to buy you a cookie. You shouldn't have had to wait for this sandwich."
They then chatted me up about the time change, weather (please, man with the Midwest accent, say "upper wiscahnsin again.. it makes laugh), snow blowers, and we even started talking about the situation in Pakistan when my sandwich made its way to me.
It was one of the most pleasant consumer experiences of my life.
I'm slowly starting to realize that friendliness isn't rare, it's just much more difficult to find in the Washington, DC area. I'm becoming less and less enamoured with DC and am becoming eager to find a place where kindness prevails, chatting each other up and smiling doesn't make you a lunatic, and a sense of community exists. DC is less and less that place, and, in a way, so are many of the places I've spent time over the past few years (Boston and New York included).
As I chatted with a person from a different part of my life last week in New York, she looked horrified as I shared with her the potential that there may be a move to the Midwest, among other places, in my near future.
"Ugh. That's so weird. You'll be like the most popular person there." She then went on to tell me about attending a conference where, at break times, she and her other New Yorkers only hung out with other attendees from New York, because everyone else was too weird.
What?
I was so disheartened by this response. So much of the past 8 years has been about cities and appearing relatively cosmopolitan. I've come to the conclusion, as I 'get older', that I'm just sick of it. I'm sick of the city attitude and sense of superiority that seems to accompany people and that place. I crave different things now. I crave kindness, I crave community, I crave laughter and a sense of what's real.
If that makes me weird and un-cosmopolitan, bring it on.
Take, for example, my arrival here Friday evening. My cabbie interaction wasn't my favorite part of the day, and then the front desk people thought I was married and a man. Plus, I was tired and increasingly discouraged by the fact that I would be "stranded" for the next few nights in this suburban hotel with nothing in walking distance. It wasn't adding up to a great night.
I walked into the handicapped designed room I didn't need (the big bathroom is great but I'd gladly exchange it for a real closet, an ironing board, and the need to not mop up the shower water from the floor) and threw my bags down. As I walked into the bathroom, I saw this:
It cracked me up. For a few minutes. So, thank you to this hotel for that. My question, in all sincerity, is do I get to keep the duck?
Onto kindness. So there is ONE place within walking distance from the hotel. I built up the courage to run across the big highway in front of my hotel to get lunch at Potbelly. I was good enough to shower for these folks, but didn't do my hair nor did I apply any makeup. I was there to grab a sandwich for lunch, not to win any type of beauty pageants.
The minute I walked in, I was treated like royalty. And I wasn't the only person in the joint. They're just THAT nice.
Everyone was smiling. Eyes were twinkling. Everyone said hello and asked how I was. The staff chatted me up as my sandwich was made. When the sandwich guy made a mistake and realized his error, it was a team effort to get my sandwich right again. And the manager said, "You know what I'm going to do? I'm doing to buy you a cookie. You shouldn't have had to wait for this sandwich."
They then chatted me up about the time change, weather (please, man with the Midwest accent, say "upper wiscahnsin again.. it makes laugh), snow blowers, and we even started talking about the situation in Pakistan when my sandwich made its way to me.
It was one of the most pleasant consumer experiences of my life.
I'm slowly starting to realize that friendliness isn't rare, it's just much more difficult to find in the Washington, DC area. I'm becoming less and less enamoured with DC and am becoming eager to find a place where kindness prevails, chatting each other up and smiling doesn't make you a lunatic, and a sense of community exists. DC is less and less that place, and, in a way, so are many of the places I've spent time over the past few years (Boston and New York included).
As I chatted with a person from a different part of my life last week in New York, she looked horrified as I shared with her the potential that there may be a move to the Midwest, among other places, in my near future.
"Ugh. That's so weird. You'll be like the most popular person there." She then went on to tell me about attending a conference where, at break times, she and her other New Yorkers only hung out with other attendees from New York, because everyone else was too weird.
What?
I was so disheartened by this response. So much of the past 8 years has been about cities and appearing relatively cosmopolitan. I've come to the conclusion, as I 'get older', that I'm just sick of it. I'm sick of the city attitude and sense of superiority that seems to accompany people and that place. I crave different things now. I crave kindness, I crave community, I crave laughter and a sense of what's real.
If that makes me weird and un-cosmopolitan, bring it on.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
On what's in a name...
I know I've blogged before about the challenges of my first name. How many presume it to be a man's name and, in turn, I get all sorts of e-mail with the greeting Dear Mr. .... Whenever I've e-mailed candidates who've applied to jobs in our office, inviting them in for an interview, more often than not they call our main office line to ask "Um, I know this is odd, but is this person a man or a woman?!"
Just when I think I'm used to it, and that it's actually kind of funny (truly, it is), I get frustrated again.
As I checked into my hotel last night, the woman asked for my last name. She then wanted to confirm my first name.
"Christian?"
"No, Cristan, actually, but it's a common mistake." I smiled it off.
"Ah, is that your husband's name?"
You know that scene in Mean Girls when Lindsay Lohan talks about how something would be handled in the wild? And, suddenly, all the mean girls and their cronies begin attacking each other like monkeys?
No, I didn't do that. But I thought about it.
When I called to order my dinner last night, it happened again. "Good evening Mr. or Mrs. ... How can I help you?"
Sigh.
It's the assuming my name is male AND assuming I'm married that doesn't work for me, I guess. If it happens anywhere, it usually is in the Midwest. And, in the grand scheme of things, it's not a big deal at all. It's just when I've gotten off a 4 hour flight, been treated like a fool by a cabbie, taken a long taxi ride to the middle of nowhere that I get on my "accomplished woman I don't need no husband" high horse. Don't worry.. I'm climbing down right now.
Just when I think I'm used to it, and that it's actually kind of funny (truly, it is), I get frustrated again.
As I checked into my hotel last night, the woman asked for my last name. She then wanted to confirm my first name.
"Christian?"
"No, Cristan, actually, but it's a common mistake." I smiled it off.
"Ah, is that your husband's name?"
You know that scene in Mean Girls when Lindsay Lohan talks about how something would be handled in the wild? And, suddenly, all the mean girls and their cronies begin attacking each other like monkeys?
No, I didn't do that. But I thought about it.
When I called to order my dinner last night, it happened again. "Good evening Mr. or Mrs. ... How can I help you?"
Sigh.
It's the assuming my name is male AND assuming I'm married that doesn't work for me, I guess. If it happens anywhere, it usually is in the Midwest. And, in the grand scheme of things, it's not a big deal at all. It's just when I've gotten off a 4 hour flight, been treated like a fool by a cabbie, taken a long taxi ride to the middle of nowhere that I get on my "accomplished woman I don't need no husband" high horse. Don't worry.. I'm climbing down right now.
Friday, November 2, 2007
On tooting my own horn...
On my end of the field, it's a rare day when you hear good news. Mostly, you're just managing the bad, putting out fires here and there, and calming waters. As such, I'm going to appear like a big ole ego-maniac and tell you about something really wonderful that happened to me recently at work.
We were contacted by the aunt of a student who applied to us last year and was admitted, but who ended up turning us down to stay closer to home as his father had been diagnosed with cancer. Sadly, the father has since died and the mother was hoping to relocate to the Washington, DC area, to be with family, but not without her son. The aunt contacted us about allowing him to transfer in for the spring, despite missing the deadline and, long story short, we worked it out and had him admitted for the spring within a week.
The aunt was incredibly appreciative and wrote one of the kindest e-mails to me I have ever received, praising my ability to cut through red tape and take care of her nephew. She asked if she could draft a letter to someone at the university highlighting how helpful and kind I had been. I told her that wasn't at all necessary and that I was simply happy that we could help in a little way at a time of great pain for her nephew.
Of course, I still would have said that if she hadn't unknowingly been cc'ing my boss on her e-mails the entire time. I swear. :)
Anyway, my boss writes her back and bcc's me, indicating that I set a standard for professionalism, how students matter to me and how she's enjoyed working with me so much over the last two years. It will also go in my "Yay Me" file.
As if that wasn't good enough, the aunt writes HER back asking, truly, who she may write to about my actions. My boss responds that she should feel free to write a letter to our provost if she'd like to go forward with such a kind gesture.
Of course, the truth is, I really did nothing. I sent e-mails, appointed people to the task, and they got it done. Of course, I was quick to share these e-mails with them and thank them for their quick actions and understanding. Still, my point is that it's necessary to savor these moments. You can be great at your job, but they can still be few and far between. Let's face it.. you never hear from the happy people, only the complainers.
So, I leave a charge with you that I have before. The next time you receive exemplary service, write a letter to that person's boss and thank them. You never know how much that person may appreciate, or require, some positive recognition. Allow their boss the opportunity to say "Great job."
I feel very lucky to have a boss who sings my praises all the time. So what if everyone else is kicking me in the stomach at the same time.
We were contacted by the aunt of a student who applied to us last year and was admitted, but who ended up turning us down to stay closer to home as his father had been diagnosed with cancer. Sadly, the father has since died and the mother was hoping to relocate to the Washington, DC area, to be with family, but not without her son. The aunt contacted us about allowing him to transfer in for the spring, despite missing the deadline and, long story short, we worked it out and had him admitted for the spring within a week.
The aunt was incredibly appreciative and wrote one of the kindest e-mails to me I have ever received, praising my ability to cut through red tape and take care of her nephew. She asked if she could draft a letter to someone at the university highlighting how helpful and kind I had been. I told her that wasn't at all necessary and that I was simply happy that we could help in a little way at a time of great pain for her nephew.
Of course, I still would have said that if she hadn't unknowingly been cc'ing my boss on her e-mails the entire time. I swear. :)
Anyway, my boss writes her back and bcc's me, indicating that I set a standard for professionalism, how students matter to me and how she's enjoyed working with me so much over the last two years. It will also go in my "Yay Me" file.
As if that wasn't good enough, the aunt writes HER back asking, truly, who she may write to about my actions. My boss responds that she should feel free to write a letter to our provost if she'd like to go forward with such a kind gesture.
Of course, the truth is, I really did nothing. I sent e-mails, appointed people to the task, and they got it done. Of course, I was quick to share these e-mails with them and thank them for their quick actions and understanding. Still, my point is that it's necessary to savor these moments. You can be great at your job, but they can still be few and far between. Let's face it.. you never hear from the happy people, only the complainers.
So, I leave a charge with you that I have before. The next time you receive exemplary service, write a letter to that person's boss and thank them. You never know how much that person may appreciate, or require, some positive recognition. Allow their boss the opportunity to say "Great job."
I feel very lucky to have a boss who sings my praises all the time. So what if everyone else is kicking me in the stomach at the same time.
On signs I'm getting old...
You know you're getting old when..
The SuperShuttle driver picks you up to bring you to the airport and, after 30 seconds of the hip hop radio station plays, he comes to his senses and turns it to easy listening. Not pop. EASY LISTENING.
They give you a specially designed handicapped accessible room in your hotel, just because.
You arrive in your hotel on a Friday night and flipping through the channels squeal in glee when you arrive on America's Funniest Home Videos.
I'm going to go do a keg stand to make myself feel better.
The SuperShuttle driver picks you up to bring you to the airport and, after 30 seconds of the hip hop radio station plays, he comes to his senses and turns it to easy listening. Not pop. EASY LISTENING.
They give you a specially designed handicapped accessible room in your hotel, just because.
You arrive in your hotel on a Friday night and flipping through the channels squeal in glee when you arrive on America's Funniest Home Videos.
I'm going to go do a keg stand to make myself feel better.
On getting hosed..
This is not my average trip to Chicago.
Northbrook, from what I can tell, is the middle of nowhere. When I arrived at O'Hare and got in the cab stand, I was advised I should use the courtesy phone to call a "suburb" cab. The "city" taxi line supervisor told me his guys would charge me $55-60 whereas a suburb cab would be $25-30. Pleasantly surprised by his honesty, I trudged through my tiredness and recalled seeing something on the hotel website about a flat rate with a cab company called American. $30. Excellent.
I make my way to the courtesy phone and begin punching around the taxi screen. About 30 taxi companies are listed. Most, naturally, have some version of American in the name.
American Taxi
American Cab and Limo
AAA American
An American Cab
All American Taxi
All American Cab
United American Cab
I'm not joking.
So I opted for American Cab and Limo.
15 minutes later he arrived, and I made my way into the minivan cab. As he bucked his seatbelt I asked, "What is the rate for this fare?"
"The what?" He answered back in a thick Ukranian accent.
"The rate." I had $47 in my wallet and just wanted to be sure I wasn't about to be scammed.
"Rate?"
"Yes, the rate."
"$45."
"Um. The website, the Marriott website, said flat rate of $30."
"Is $45."
"But the website said.. and the city cab guy said."
"American Taxi. You think of American Taxi. This American Cab and Limo."
Say it with me now. Good grief. It was a true Charlie Brown moment.
The thing is, you can't tell me the confusion around these taxi names isn't completely intentional. 50 American Taxis must have passed by as I waited, meaning they are THE name in the suburb taxi business given their value. And other cab companies are just taking advantage of the confusion. Grrr...
Of course, my cynical self also wonders what the rate would have been if I wasn't a single female traveling alone in Chicago at night.. but that's another blog.
Northbrook, from what I can tell, is the middle of nowhere. When I arrived at O'Hare and got in the cab stand, I was advised I should use the courtesy phone to call a "suburb" cab. The "city" taxi line supervisor told me his guys would charge me $55-60 whereas a suburb cab would be $25-30. Pleasantly surprised by his honesty, I trudged through my tiredness and recalled seeing something on the hotel website about a flat rate with a cab company called American. $30. Excellent.
I make my way to the courtesy phone and begin punching around the taxi screen. About 30 taxi companies are listed. Most, naturally, have some version of American in the name.
American Taxi
American Cab and Limo
AAA American
An American Cab
All American Taxi
All American Cab
United American Cab
I'm not joking.
So I opted for American Cab and Limo.
15 minutes later he arrived, and I made my way into the minivan cab. As he bucked his seatbelt I asked, "What is the rate for this fare?"
"The what?" He answered back in a thick Ukranian accent.
"The rate." I had $47 in my wallet and just wanted to be sure I wasn't about to be scammed.
"Rate?"
"Yes, the rate."
"$45."
"Um. The website, the Marriott website, said flat rate of $30."
"Is $45."
"But the website said.. and the city cab guy said."
"American Taxi. You think of American Taxi. This American Cab and Limo."
Say it with me now. Good grief. It was a true Charlie Brown moment.
The thing is, you can't tell me the confusion around these taxi names isn't completely intentional. 50 American Taxis must have passed by as I waited, meaning they are THE name in the suburb taxi business given their value. And other cab companies are just taking advantage of the confusion. Grrr...
Of course, my cynical self also wonders what the rate would have been if I wasn't a single female traveling alone in Chicago at night.. but that's another blog.
On being a one mountain kind of girl..
I’m on a plane from
My jaunt to
Well, wait a minute. Let me clarify.
What I adore about trips to places like
There’s something so breathtaking about this scenario. While a mountain chain such as the Rockies has its splendor, there’s just something so much more magical to me about the singular magnificence of the
Or maybe it’s an only child thing.
Either way, when I landed in
I made my way to my hotel room. I opened the shade.
I’ve loved her ever since.
The same can be said of Ranier in
I adore this region for any number of reasons. The mountains, the hills, the trees, the fashion (where fleece is hip and makeup minimal), the cleanliness and, as always, the people. At times too subdued for my taste, Northwesterners nevertheless remind me that they are in the running for the kindest folks in the States. They just accomplish it in a much laid back kind of way.
So my trip to
I look out the window and we’re over the
Ok, ok. Kind of like me.
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