Corporateinklings

Teaching Yoga

 Why it’s so important to do things you’ve never done before:

I decided to take a part-time job. Not exactly a job. More of a passion, and a little bit of a test, of myself.

 I started teaching yoga, mostly because I said I would, and perhaps, to prove something to myself, after a 24-day yoga training intensive, which also was my sabbatical. It was easy to be a student, but as a teacher, I was a raw newbie, filled with the nerves and inevitable mistakes that novices make.

It’s been a once-a-week gig for about a year now, at my local Y, which I happen to think is one of the best institutions going. It’s open, it’s accessible, and it’s about a broad a cross-section of a city as you’ll find; at the same time, this means I never know who will show up. In my first few months, one student told me he’d just had a double-bypass surgery the year before; another woman had had a significant accident, and couldn’t stand for very long. I didn’t remember everyone’s names, or how to help them heal their injuries; though at least I knew how not make them worse. Quite honestly, I was over my head. Yet they swam along with me, even as I mixed up directions to move to their right leg, when I really meant their left.

It’s been a humbling experience.  As the week winds down, I rush out on Friday afternoon, shedding one role for this other one, where rapid decision-making and analysis doesn’t count for much. When the room is 85 degrees; emotional openness does, along with learning how to encourage people to feel successful even when they’re barely able to bend into a pose, or touch their back, much less clasp their arms behind them. The sweetest moment is when people go upside down; everyone always thinks they can’t do it, and of course, they can.

This last week, I had 9 students, three of whom had never set foot in a yoga class before. One made me concerned. He was older, overweight, not used to moving his body, and half-way through the class, was working so hard his legs were shaking, even though I encouraged easier options. Still, I couldn’t easily help him do one thing while the class did another, because I am, in effect, still a beginner myself.

I’ve never been a big fan of the philosophical readings or inspiration that some yoga teachers like to share at the end of every class. This time, though, it was clear to me that these three gave at least as much as they received, because just by walking into that room, they defied the self-imposed ‘nos’ that keep us in place, doing the same things over and over, and avoiding what’s new – to not take risks, not expose ourselves, not try for fear of failing.

There’s a phrase for it: the beginner’s mind.

 

- By Amy Bermar

Bravo for Trying

In a small firm, we know a lot about each other’s lives. Who got a dog, who likes their in-laws, who just bought a house and learned that the plumbing isn’t working as expected. This past weekend was a first: one of ours staffers is in a play.

Without talking a lot about it, she’s been rehearsing for months, learning an English accent, and staying up till who knows when for tech rehearsals. It’s a tiny theatre – the kind that probably exists all over the country – and one I’d never heard of.

Then she invited all of us. Of course I went. I didn’t know what to expect, and at the last minute, wondered if I might have made a mistake. It was raining, and the tiny awning in the tinier street gave me pause, but we were already there, and committed. It turned out to be a great play – Tom Stoppard’s “The Real Thing.” There were only about 30 of us in the audience, and playbill included a flier in case we wanted to buy any of the furniture after the run closed. The snacks at intermission were $1, and at each show, the director picks a non-profit to receive the concession money; this time, it’s the ASPCA.

Our staffer, of course, was fantastic.  I wanted to give her a standing ovation, but it wasn’t that kind of place.  Big bravos, anyhow, for pursuing your passion outside of work.

- By Amy Bermar

Taking Wednesdays Off

Earlier this year, I started taking off one afternoon a week. Why? After 20 years of running this business, which typically means 10-hour-plus days, with little time to stop, I found my spirit, and energy, flagging by Thursday.  That didn’t just have an impact on me; since culture starts at the top, and ‘the boss makes the weather’ – it was apparent to me that sustainability meant finding a way to sustain myself, too.

At first, I felt like a shirker, leaving mid-day. Often, I called in, checked email, let people know they could definitely reach me. Often, I didn’t take the time, and felt perversely proud of it. When I did take it, I sometimes felt squeamish, like I wasn’t using it wisely enough. The Wednesday afternoons I managed to leave though, were all I’d hoped them to be; unstructured, empty, open. The following morning was almost consistently high-energy, and I contributed a buzz that certainly took up the slack for anyone waiting for the weekend.

In truth, I don’t manage to take it every week, and some days, I barely get out an hour early. The guilt persists, too, especially when I see everyone else working so hard.

 It’s not fair, I suppose, when the boss gets bennies that the staff can’t share, especially in a small company. What would happen if we let everyone take an afternoon off? Would clients object? Would the team be more productive? Less? Is it still valuable if you have to get the same amount of work done?

Could we make it elective?

Is anyone else doing this?

   - By Amy Bermar

 

Experts Don’t Ask Questions – Right?

We’re supposed to solve problems, right? Isn’t that what ‘knowledge-workers’ do?

But here’s the rub:  Every time we think we have to come up with the ‘right’ answer, we miss an enormous opportunity – to ask the right question.  Shoot – any question.  Like ‘what are you trying to accomplish with this?’ Or, ‘What are your customers/colleagues/boss saying about this? Or, ‘Have you thought about____?’

It’s a delusion, self-defeating trap to think that you have the answers.  It’s also incredibly arrogant and a waste of time, because the best thing you can hope for is that you’re right. Big deal. More likely, you set up a one-sided guessing game, and at the same time, expectations that somehow, you’ll do it all yourself. Get it wrong and you’re --- well – wrong.  How good is that?

I’ve found that we have to teach people to ask questions. That it’s OK – actually, essential – to ask questions. To admit you don’t know. To see what the other person thinks. It doesn’t matter who that ‘other’ person is. Sometimes, it’s our clients. Sometimes, it’s a reporter.  Or our own team.

Just assuming you’re right is like shooting darts blindfolded. Something’s bound to go wrong – and the clean-up costs a lot more than the time it takes  to get everyone on the same page.

It’s not easy – especially in a world where e-mails are followed two minutes later  with phone calls that start “did you get my e-mail?” We all know about 'relationships’ that seem more like  credit card transactions – it’s no wonder that  asking someone to stop, and actually talk, can seem out of the question.

So, the next time you find yourself self-censoring, because you think you’ll look stupid, think again. Odds are at least 50-50 that you’ve thought of something they haven’t. Your idea might even be better.

   - Posted by Amy Bermar

Thank You? Who Cares…

Is the thank-you note archaic? Meaningless?

It’s a lousy job market, guaranteed. And the Millennials out there looking for work, as a whole, are terrific, creative, serious, dedicated, worried about achieving, committed to work-life balance, connected to doing-good in this work, suspicious of corporate hype, parentally over-managed, informal, and perhaps impatient.

But for some reason, a lot of them don’t know about thank you notes. Maybe they don’t realize the interview is a sales pitch, and they’re the one selling. Call me old, archaic and meaningless, but I taught my kids (squalling, refusing, rebelling but ultimately relenting) to do them. It’s pretty simple formula, actually: If someone does something for you – let ’em know you noticed.

So here’s my advice. If you’re a candidate – and if you really want to work here – write a note.

It’s called preserving your options.  And even when things seem informal, someone always notices.

   - Posted by Amy Bermar

Culture Change: How Long Do You Have?

30 days after the sabbatical, and how go the new rules? 

My personal commandments:

·         90% of what we do are just distractions.

·         We hired smart people. Let them fly.

·         Just because you’re the boss, it doesn’t mean you’re right.

Winning, slowly, on the big ones. Not scoring so high on the others mini-commandments – like my promise of no email on weekends (sent out 30 this weekend) and no sugar (double-scoop of ice cream, anyone?)

For any company that’s growing, the biggest priority is giving staff more responsibility, accountability and clout. This means rethinking what everyone really needs to work on. Those ‘big’ projects? Probably someone else can handle them (if you’re really honest about it).

It’s mostly habit. Habit to ask questions instead of recommend. Habit to assume that only you know enough to write the email. Habit that ‘strategic’ means it’s yours to run. Bog down. Make your own.

So our new mantra is ‘Do you really have to do it?’ Sometimes, the answer is yes, absolutely. But chances are, someone else can. Maybe not as well or as fast. But they’ll get better. Or be gone.

So what projects are you holding on to? What are you afraid to give up?

- Posted by Amy Bermar

Ah, Email.

I promised myself that I would go email free for 24 days of my sabbatical. I lied.

I managed to sneak my crackberry out of the office, before our IT maven could deactivate it. By day 2, I was sneaking a look at least once a day. By day 7, I checked email every night.

I didn’t answer many, but only because I was taken off of most work-related distribution lists. But I did figure out why I had been so drained. Just skimming hundreds of –‘there-could-be-something-useful-in-there’ emails takes a real toll on the eyes, if not the soul.

Now, I never intend to be one of those pure-thinking souls who close Outlook to get ‘real work’ done. But I did make a few vows, and so far – 7+ days into real-life – it’s working.  What I learned: Email creates dozens of communities, some tightly linked, others irrelevant. Even so, email is the acknowledged pulse-beat for everything tech – and giving up any of it feels risky – who wants to be sidelined?

Here’s what I’m doing:

1.       Blacklist many more senders. I don’t really care what most of the world has to say. I am limiting input to the top 20% of sources I value.  All real humans are still in my white-mail folder.

2.       Purge my Google alerts. This is psychic sprawl. It’s easy to add names. It was time to subtract some, and admit that I just don’t care what some companies are doing.

3.       Delete everything in the spam folder, without bothering to skim it. If they really want to reach me, they’ll call. If not, I’ll live with the risk.

4.       Purging my inbox (or mostly).

5.       This one only begins in email: Turn down more invitations, even a few I’ve accepted. Everything takes time. And face up to the fact that some things I do, or did, or wanted to do, were mostly for ego. Skip it.

My next vow: No email over the weekend. We’ll see.

How much is in your inbox?

- Posted by Amy Bermar

So who takes sabbaticals, anyway?

I just came back from my first sabbatical in 26 years of working. I almost bailed out.  It could have been scripted: 6 weeks before departure-day, a crisis erupted.  (Severe enough to make me think I ‘needed’ to be here.)

There are 4 reasons I ended up going:

1) I stayed  local, and could swoop in for an EMS search-and-rescue if truly needed.

2) I knew from painful experience that the meetings/crises/whatever which seem so urgent at the moment fast fade into oblivion.

3) I learned – mostly from 3 years in Alaska – that the things you do, not the day-to-day work, are what you remember at the end of the day.

4) I trusted our team. (But I knew that from the start.)

At first, I was concerned about my communities: our clients and our staff. I worried that our clients wouldn’ t think I was serious about our business, or theirs. I wondered whether my staff would question why they’re working so hard, if I’m not.

24 days later: I absolutely believe that every company should offer paid sabbaticals to valued employees. It’s just like the brochure promises: You come back refreshed, with a different view on work, self, and the world.

We rolled out our sabbatical program about 3 years ago, and at the beginning, I didn’t really believe in it. It was one of those “it’s fine for other people, but I don’t need it” benefits that companies sometimes offer.  Only one of our staffers has taken it so far, and it made an indelible mark on her world view (she spent 3 weeks in Tanzania, helping to build a school, and is going back this fall.)

This absolutely translates into tangible, work-related benefits: seeing things with a fresh eye, and identifying strategies to improve core aspects of the business. This new energy has astonishing, palpable impact on everyone around. Maybe we should call it the sabbatical spill-over.

The crises have faded to black. New ones, I’m sure, will arise.

By the way, our program is 3 weeks of paid salary, for anyone with at least 4 years experience. I’ll be happy to share our policy with you – just email me.

- Posted by Amy Bermar