I lost my first subscriber last week. After more than six months of a steadily growing list (with a giggle and a clap every time someone new subscribes), there it was in my email box: “N has unsubscribed.” This has haunted me since it happened. Why did N leave? Did I offend N? Did they not find value in what I provide each week? Did they subscribe by accident or perhaps unsubscribe by accident? Are they Elon’s cousin twice removed who is tired of listening to people criticize him?
And it got me thinking about failure, or more importantly, how anything we do of value, including work, is a lot like that Rolling Stones song….
The story begins….
When I was a wee tot at Centennial Elementary, I was one of those kids that loved school. I loved the smell of the mimeographed worksheets1, the joy of using a brand new crayon (especially from the 64 box that had colors like pine green and magenta and was the precursor for my weird obsession with Pantone swatch books in the 90s),
and learning useful things like who the explorers were, why native populations made mounds (common in Ohio), and multiplication tables (which I was a whiz at). I performed exciting classroom responsibilities like collecting milk money (I was the only one who could make change in kindergarten, a skill honed after years of playing IGA at home in my mom’s grocery store cashier smock), grading papers for teachers who needed to find me something to do to end the otherwise ceaseless barrage of questions, and volunteering to “help” the other kids with their work when I was done with mine (translation: walking around the room talking to the other kids and asking them about what they did not understand).
What I did not love was recess.
Standing with my back against the brick wall by the blacktop kickball diamond, watching the two kickball captains take turns choosing team members by calling out their names.
“John.”
“Angela.”
“Shawn.”
“Jolynda.” (On a side note, Jolynda was who I most wanted to be like, at least as it related to kickball. She seemed to possess every athletic skill that I lacked and I would watch her intently to try to figure out how she did it in the hopes of learning something that would help me avoid utter humiliation. More on Jolynda below.)
And as the available “kickballers” dwindled on that wall, the selection process slowed dramatically. The captains would look at each other, biting their lips in concentration, and then they would look at me and the one other kid left. Both gingers. One with crutches that mysteriously did not limit his ability to kick pretty well.
“You take her and we will take him,” one of the team captains bargained.
The other, a future high school football star, sighed loudly and replied. “But I took HER last time, that’s not fair.” “Her” was me. Ouch.
And don’t even get me started on dodgeball.
Suffice it to say, I am what the “Cat Daddy” affectionately refers to as a “daisy picker.” I cannot run and kick a ball concurrently, I catch anything thrown in my direction with my full face, and I can confidently report, “that cloud definitely looks like a cat.” Oops, was that the ball I was supposed to hit, kick, or catch?
Before you feel too sorry for me, once safely ensconced in a classroom, I was back to being chosen early - for things like speed math drills, group quizzes, book reading competitions, and chalkboard races. Do you want to discuss dinosaurs or Star Wars? Do some of the other kids need to be read to? Are you suddenly very curious about what “8 times 7” is? Do you need someone from the biology class to travel to a nearby college to learn how to give pap smears to mice? I’m here for all of that and then some!
What this taught me were a few key business lessons that have stuck with me.
Be keenly aware and brutally honest about your own strengths and weaknesses.
Needless to say, I know I will never be an asset to any sports team (certainly not on the field), but I can keep a mean stat and definitely help in the boardroom.
Working is the same thing. We all have things that we are really good at, and things that we are not. We can do our best to capitalize on our strengths, reduce the impact of our weaknesses (while still trying to improve on those areas), and most importantly, when assembling our work “kickball” team, choose those people who best compliment and supplement the team, shoring up the weak areas and ensuring the widest range of perspectives. And if you find a “Jolynda,” (see above) snatch her up immediately and make sure you have permission from the teachers to fetch the ball all the way from the trailer park down the street because she is going to kick that ball out of the playground every..single..time. Even better, she will probably be so confident in that skill that she will teach others how to do the same.
Try everything, even if you aren’t great at it….it will lead you to something even better.
As many of you know from these articles, I have been fortunate enough to have a very varied career…investments, communications, crisis PR, IT, HR, legal, college professor, and so on. One man’s (or woman’s) career “A-D-D” is another man’s (woman’s) “transferable skillset.”
Not being given a trophy for (and being truly terrible at) every sport taught me to be self-aware and realistic about my strengths and weaknesses, to be kind to myself for the things I wasn’t great at, and to use humor to connect with people that were not like me. It also ensured that I spent more time developing the skills I had the potential to be good at, and leveraging them in other ways when I could. With each failed attempt, I made some new friends, learned some new skills and lingo, and was able to contribute in unexpected but still valuable ways (need a chemistry tutor for the bus ride home? I’m there for you). And I realized that once you’ve failed a few times, nothing seems as scary.
Not everyone is going to like you (or pick you for their team).
Sometimes, people just don’t like us. Maybe we are a threat to them. Maybe we remind them of that person who never picked THEM for kickball. Maybe they aren’t able to see our great qualities because they don’t take the time to get to know us, or because we haven’t found a way to connect with them. Maybe they don’t like our weird sense of humor or our personality. Maybe we aren’t the right puzzle piece for their team. Maybe they think we haven’t paid our dues and somehow “cut the line.” Maybe they think we are “too” something - too loud, too quiet, too pushy, too meek, too smart, too boring, too risk averse, too daring. Maybe it’s pheromones, though Zoom certainly would remove that as an option.
Recently a good friend of mine told me a sad story that I’ve heard time and time again (and we’ve all been there). She did not get a promotion that she really wanted. She is understandably devastated. Had I been doing the choosing, she would have gotten the role. Hands down. There is no one better. She is one of those people who is the perfect combination of smart, funny, energetic, and creative. She has a zest for problem solving and is a person who leads with compassion that people love to work for. You know the ones, the people who make everyone around them better too.
The hiring manager chose someone else. Who knows why. I often think that, no matter how much we strive to remove bias from an interview process, how much we focus on the requirements of the role or the skill sets required, how much we are committed to selecting the best person for the job above all else, hiring is still kind of like peering through the crack in a door where the hinges are. You can only see a very narrow part of the next room, but you are going to try to redecorate it from your tiny crack view anyway.
What this rejection creates for my friend is an opportunity to explore other things. There is a better job for her, where she will be valued and appreciated for the talent that she is. And while it feels like a personal affront, most of these decisions are just guesses or random choices based on tiny moments in time. We can’t take them to heart. They aren’t an indicator of who we are or who we can be.
Don’t sell yourself short, even if you aren’t where you want to be.
Another friend and I were talking about her career, which as most people in their early 30s can attest, feels like it has stagnated. She is at the point where she has enough experience to be laser focused and aware of what needs to happen in her organization, can see the path to get there lit up like a runway, and has the capabilities to bring the team along with her. But she has never done it before, and no one will give her a chance to prove that she can.
As we were talking, we discussed the leaders above her, and how there might be some changes in the near future. One of the potential openings sounded like a great role for her, but she said “I’m not ready for that job.” She was, as so many of us are conditioned to do, basing it almost exclusively on the number of times she has circled the sun on this planet instead of anything related to her actual ability to do the work.2
I stopped her, “career big sister” anger bubbling up inside of me. I reminded her that none of us ever feel ready for the next role, and often, we have no idea what we need to do next once we have the job, even after years of experience. All we can do is try.
And if we aren’t surrounded by people who will give us a chance to try (and even fail), take the advice I once received in preparation for a big interview. It went like this:
Cat Daddy: “What are you going to say if he asks you what you will do if he gives the job to someone else?”
Me: “He won’t ask that.”
Cat Daddy: “He will. What will you say WHEN he asks you what you will do if he gives the job to someone else?”
Fear set in, and I didn’t want to sound like I wasn’t a team player. I hesitated in my answer, even though I already had a backup job lined up.
Cat Daddy (impatiently): “You say - I’m ready to do the job somewhere. Then you just look him in the eye and stop talking. Do not give him permission to choose someone else over you.”
The executive did ask, and that “stop talking” part was one of the longest minutes I have ever experienced.
I got the job.
And had I not, I would have taken a few days to mourn the rejection, then I would have packed up for my next adventure.
As is repeated here on a pretty regular basis in some form or another, bet on yourself, because you are a “sure thing.” It also doesn’t hurt to build a network of supporters and advocates you can trust to tell you the honest, unvarnished truth when you need it most.
Be resilient when the weaknesses and failures take up the lion’s share of your attention.
Even though N’s “unsubscribe” felt a lot like the “You have 0 friends” episode of South Park…
I am still writing an article this week (and I already have a head start on next week’s too, which btw is back to real business topics and possibly a bit about a certain person that may or may not get arrested this week).
I am still focused on my goal of “1 year/1000 subscribers.”
Every week I try to think about what feedback I received from readers. I look at the open and read stats, the most popular posts, comments, and even recently surveyed my own subscribers, all in an effort to get better with each post.
And to that ex-subscriber who will never likely read this because they unsubscribed, thank you for reading for two months. That’s two months that we had some connection, even if it wasn’t one that you wanted to continue.
And, regardless of what Yoda says, try.
Try new things. Try to get better at the things you aren’t great at. Use the rejections (and unsubscribes) as fuel for the little internal fire to do more, to do better, to put more of your true self out into the world (even when it is highly embarrassing), to stop worrying about failing, to leap without a net.
Sometimes, when you least expect it, your foot might even make contact with that kickball (which mine did once) and everyone who ever doubted you will likely cheer you on as you run around the bases.
In the words of another short, less green, old guy….Mick Jagger said in the song that started this post:
“…if you try sometimes, well, you might find, you get what you need.”
I’m ready to do the job somewhere…and so are you!
Espresso Shots: Belated St. Patrick’s Day Edition or, in the case of the EPA terror site, what REALLY kept me awake this week that did not involve caffeine in tiny cups
I got a lot of positive feedback on this feature last week, so I will try to make a regular (if random) column.
If you have an hour or so, watch Bono & The Edge: A Sort of Homecoming with Dave Letterman even if you don’t think you are a U2 fan. Bono and the Edge are Irish, and they have had those names way longer than you would believe! But in all seriousness, as you can imagine from all the music references, I watch a LOT of music documentaries. This is one of the best I’ve seen, weaving the history of Ireland, the beauty of lifelong friendship, and the sheer joy of art together.
If you have two hours, watch To Leslie. Andrea Risebourogh (who is English, not Irish - but who sounds exactly like someone from Texas) was nominated for the Best Actress Oscar. She was overshadowed in the pre-broadcast “odds making” coverage by Cate Blanchett and Michelle Yeoh, which is a shame because I think she should have won. And this proves my point above that even if you do a great job, not everyone will pick you. I did watch it on St. Patrick’s Day (once Xfinity restored our internet after ANOTHER two day outage) so that should count for something.
If you have three hours, listen to U2’s new album in its entirety, Songs of Surrender, comprised of orchestral “retellings” of their catalog. And if you just play one song, enjoy this one originally released in the year I got my driver’s license: With or Without You.
Caution, this could lead to doom scrolling: While looking for interesting information for this week’s class on Environmental Law, and preparing to shock and terrify young adults (all of whom were born after 9/11) with stories of Love Canal and DuPont’s assault on the midwest, I discovered something that I would like to unsee. If you want to experience a downward spiral that only true, real world information can offer, take a gander at the Environmental Protection Agency’s Superfund: National Priorities List, which is a “list of sites of national priority among the known releases or threatened releases of hazardous substances, pollutants, or contaminants throughout the United States and its territories.” I don’t know if it’s more shocking how much is on it, or how long it takes for cleanups to even get started. I would be lying if I said it hadn’t already affected my home search target areas! But, keeping it Irish, note that in Ireland (which does not seem to have a clickable map of horror), “77% of Irish citizens believe that the government is not doing enough to protect the environment, while 67% of citizens believe that citizens themselves are not doing enough to protect the environment.” Meanwhile, “Americans are less concerned about how climate change may impact them personally than they were in 2019.”
And don’t forget to check out The Set List, a new jazz Substack by loyal PrepOverCoffee reader, insurance guru, and exceptional jazz DJ, Steve Miller. Thanks to him, I finally understand how Miles Davis does not always even sound like Miles Davis! Also, keeping with the theme, our jazz expert lives in Massachusetts, a state that has a long history of connection to the Fighting Irish.
Am I the only one excited by Diptyque’s new fragrance that smells like paper and ink? Or as a very wise woman recently said to me, and in the spirit of tax time, “won’t it just smell like an accountant?”