Groundhog’s Day used to be my favorite holiday. You don’t have to buy presents and you don’t have to cook.
This year was different though. I was at work on February 2nd before the groundhog even woke up. Yet he was the one with an entire square devoted to him on the calendar? And then we’re supposed to applaud him for going back to bed? Hail to him as the chief expert on nature? The varmint can’t even stand up to his own shadow!
Then came Valentine’s Day. I’m single and apparently 25 is the cut-off age for my dad to send sympathy flowers so we’re skipping this one.
Mardi Gras and Presidents Day are selective holidays - only those employed in New Orleans or by the government were eligible for celebration. SKIP!
So I can’t help but question why the one day this month that gives something of incomparable value to everyone - no matter their job, region, relationship status, or species - goes completely ignored? This valuable something is the one thing we all need more of. The one thing we can never have enough of. And this Friday, we get it - TIME! An entire extra day!
Is the Leap Year not reason to rejoice? Think about it. How could you spend an extra 24 hours!? What will you do with this precious time that comes only once every four years!?
Okay, so maybe we’ll all wind up doing exactly what we do every other day of the year. Hey - that’s a whole lot more than the groundhog can say of his day. So take a minute - you’ve got an extra 1440 this year - and celebrate to yourself! As with most holidays, it’s the thought that counts anyway, right?
Our organization’s five partners went away on a retreat to discuss the next year’s budget. The remaining employees who had experience under their belt were essentially out all day, leaving five of us entry levelers to run the office by ourselves on a Friday.
The day started off strong at our weekly 7:30 am sales meeting. We all showed up. At 8:30 am, we took a field trip to Starbucks. At 11:30 am, three of us called an impromptu meeting to discuss the onset of enjoying country music. 1:00 pm called for a very leisurely lunch at the favored deli. And the rest of the afternoon we took turns DJ-ing our favorite tunes.
Were we unproductive? No, we finished everything we had to do that day with time to spare.
So what is the point? A company’s leaders hinder its efficiency? Anarchy should rule after all?
The point is that if we were any older and had any more experience, even with time to sit around and music to play and useless conversation to have, we probably wouldn’t do it. We might be out on the golf course with our friends or stopping in with lunch for our spouse or being there after school to pick up our children. The older you get, the more you have to lose and therefore the less time you have to waste.
No other time in our life will be confined to our office with no one watching - we had no choice but to have fun with each other. We had to be there but we could be casual. At entry level, we can afford to waste time because as far as we know we have a lot of it. Honor your lack of experience. But be sure to mark your Outlook calendar for three to four years from now you’ll want to know when you should start holding on to your dwindling time clock.
There were two types of new-hires those that get to order a new chair and those that are given a hand-me-down. I always thought that your chair was a metaphor for your career path. We were confined to the stationary seats from grammar school to college and even throughout the job search interview process. Then you land your first job and more often than not, you’re landing in a standard rolley chair with fairly cheap upholstery. Eventually you earn arm rests. A few years later, maybe a title or two up the ladder, you move into the “L” stages - leather, lumbar support, luxury. And finally, there’s the few who make it to deep-buttoned tufting with brass trim or those thousand-dollar ergonomic mesh ones.
I recently discovered, however, that not all entry levelers are seated equally. One week ago our newest employee came over to my desk asking me to order him a new chair. Sitting in my non-reclining rolley without arm rests, I threw the wheels into a rugged reverse and grabbed the office supplies book. Citing his bad back, “The Chair Man” chose a $234 head-high leather seat with padded arms, swivel, tilt tension, and pneumatic adjustment - yes, the chair came with its own vocabulary.
It was three hours into work today that The Chair Man came over to my desk and asked when his chair was coming in because “that one sucks!” What he did not know was that after he had left the office last night, a late delivery rolled in looking like a first class seat ripped out of 747 and planted on wheels. He had been sitting in it all morning, without spinal symptoms.
I see two lessons learned from The Chair Man. First, an entry leveler can find a way to upgrade the standard rolley with a convenient bad back. Second, you don’t really have to have a bad back to be a pain in the ass.
I ordered business cards a week ago for one our new employees. We have an established relationship with a mighty fine printer that unfortunately takes a mighty fine amount of time to complete an order. This particular new employee whose title will now be Director of Impatience came running over to me everyday asking if his business cards had arrived which meant everyday I had to come up with another reason as to why the process of placing raised print on hard stock took so long. Then came the day of the most important networking event - which absolutely required the widespread dispersing of the Director’s 3½ x 2 inch recyclable identity. Unfortunately, I had run out of excuses with the man who couldn’t run out of patience because he had none to begin with. And thus, I had to drive out to the printer and pick up the cards hot-off-the-press, literally.
MapQuest estimated that my destination was 40 minutes away. I estimated that would mean one and half hours that I would have to work late to catch up. A bit unnerving but I tried to enjoy the mid-November drive - windows open, crisp breeze, trees, fall leaves, barren fields - wait, where was I? This business-to-business errand turned out to be a field trip to the actual lumber yard. Obscure but an interesting opportunity - other than a brief segment on “Sesame Street” on how paper was made and a few scenes from “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” I had never actually seen the inside of a paper mill. Of course I barely had time to look around. I was up against the Director’s strict deadline. At the very least though, I can now say I’ve driven the dirt roads and dodged the flying wood chips of a lumber yard. As for the Director of Impatience - well he now has in his hands 500 chances to get a paper cut.
Have you ever been in a situation where you come up with the greatest point off the top of your head? For me, that occurred while making an argument as to why our company’s marketing collateral should be kept as brief as possible. My partner, Mr. Wordy, disagreed in favor of a longggg testimonial piece. Neither of us wanted to budge.
“Look at Snickers!” I screamed and gave myself kudos for the amazing example. “All they have to say is ‘Hungry? Grab a snickers.’ They don’t go into detail about the crunchy peanuts topped with chocolate and filled with caramel and nougat!”
That’s when a co-worker from another department moseyed on over - he was all smug, hands in pocket. He quietly voiced that he would like to retaliate my argument. And then he began to sing:
“Happy peanuts soar over chocolate covered mountain tops and waterfalls of caramel prancing nougat in the meadow singing songs of satisfaction to the world.”
My co-worker sensed that I was still a little skeptical and by the power invested in YouTube, he played the commercial clip featuring a guitar soloist strumming about the splendor of a Snickers bar.
Mr. Wordy proved his point too. Had someone asked me if I was hungry, I would have said “no.” But after being entranced by musical magic featuring a world constructed with confections, I had an instantaneous craving. Sold! And for at least for a good five minutes, my mouth was too occupied to make any more of my “greatest points.”
