Archives for March 2017

Room.

March 28, 2017 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Spacious (actually) starts on the inside.

Actors have agents.
CEO’s have assistants and VP’s.
Celebrities have PR people.

But most of us don’t have these human filters that tell us what’s important, who needs a meeting, who doesn’t, what favors should we do or not do. So we have to prioritize them ourselves. Fair enough.

We know we have to say “no” when we want to make something big – to write a book, complete a project – we accept fewer invitations in order to focus on milestones. That obviously makes sense. But what I’m more interested in are the transitional moments that might seem unremarkable – but that are meaningful all the same – that you can’t plan.

I always notice that when my work schedule is back to back, I can’t even imagine new business ideas much less recognize them if they knock on my door. And I also miss tiny, unexpected moments; my kids’ sharing a story before bedtime or a concern expressed in the car on the way to ballet. When every minute is accounted for, there’s no room for unexpected loveliness.

It’s the same rationale that a swanky restaurant employs by (secretly) keeping a VIP table open. They want the ability to say “of course we have a table for you, Mr. Clooney,” (should he walk in). But that’s intentional. Planned. Anticipated. Some “no” had to happen for that table to be available.

There’s a difference between what you know you want, and the things you can’t predict you’d hate to miss. Could be a dream opportunity, or a bath instead of a shower.

Create space. Make some room.

Big Life

Generous.

March 21, 2017 · By Amy Swift Crosby

You don't have to be a sadhu to be surprisingly kind. Photo @Jenniferromans

This is a story about the (surprising) gestures of others, and their lasting impact.

When I first got out of college, I worked at CNN, as the assistant to a very visible VP. While he was away at a European bureau, my (new) used car caught fire while I was driving it, melting the gasket. I was new to Atlanta, to my job and company, with no real friends yet – working with a limited budget – and had to quickly solve how to get to and from work every day. In 1994, you bought a car through classified ads, so most of these negotiations took place on the phone.

One day, as I zigzagged between mechanics reports on the fax machine, printing insurance documents, my busy phone bank, and a mess of papers accumulating on my desk, a nearby manager – who also reported to my boss – came by my office. She admonished my use of work hours for “personal calls” and informed me that she’d be taking it up with the boss. I was distraught, embarrassed, and unsure of what side of “right” I was on. If I was out of line, I wanted to volunteer that information myself, rather than get reported by Lady Blah Blah.

When the VP called from London later that day – back when long distance calls sounded crackling and distant – I relayed what had happened (and was so nervous that I started to cry). The first thing he told me to do was go into his office and shut the door. Saving me from office humiliation with this gesture was my first surprise.

Next, after hearing me out, and having actually already gotten an email from the ambitious manager, he said, “I got her email, but I trust your judgment. Take care of your situation, do your best job, and let me know how I can help you when I get back.”

This guy – in the midst of the Gulf War news crises – could have fired me, or at least leveled me before moving onto more pressing tasks. But he gave me the benefit of the doubt – an unproven 22-year old, and definitely the least important person there. I’ll never forget how that felt, and how it changed how I trusted myself.

We likely don’t realize how our (re)actions or words impact people for years to come, and how impressions make a lifelong mark. I could have shared a negative story to illustrate this same point – because there are some (juicy ones) that stand out. But I wanted to share this one because we all have a choice when we react, and inside the hours of any given day, get unexpected opportunities to make one.

It doesn’t seem we can lose by choosing generosity.

Small Business

Empathy.

March 14, 2017 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Try not to roll this mess into anyone’s inbox.

Of the many virtuous qualities in short supply over the past couple of months, one of the most publicly abandoned might be empathy. Besides just being part of good person-hood, it’s also a strategic skill in business. Recently elected presidents, well-meaning clients and beloved colleagues – take note.

Empathy at work looks specifically like a willingness to put yourself in different shoes and roles; For one, to better understand the process involved in what you’re asking of the people around you or who work for you– and two, in order to get what you need when you need it.

It doesn’t require you to actually know how to do those jobs, but it does demand that you imagine what it takes to do them – what data, timeliness or processes are deployed – for mission to get accomplished.

Copy Writers are famously at the end of long email chains, forwarded by (unaware or kinda lazy) colleagues or clients, who should probably understand that wading through what’s relevant – or not – only adds more hours (and mental haze) to their deadline. One of my favorite clients did the opposite recently – he drafted an imperfectly awesome sample of a letter he needed written, knowing that this rough draft was EXACTLY what we needed to help him with only two days notice. That’s forethought. That’s collaboration. That’s him being goal-oriented enough to say, “I know I have to have this. What will it take to get it?” As a result, we were overjoyed to move around other things to deliver it for him.

The days of handing off laundry baskets of disorganized tasks for the next person to sort, and then placing unreasonable deadlines on them, are symptomatic of a dated standard. No one really wants to work with people like that.

No clue? Then ask. It’s okay not to know. But it’s less okay not to know that asking is an option #helpmehelpyou.

Big Life

Descriptions.

March 7, 2017 · By Amy Swift Crosby

India, 2017. Superlatives abound, but that’s different than knowing what happened or what it meant.

We (you, me) are obliged to tell stories in the name of commerce. We are all telling one – and it’s our job to do it, like it or not.

But as people, I’m not sure we have the same responsibility. Often times, when a profound or still-unfolding experience happens, it’s hard to put punctuation around it. It can feel so big – with aspects known, and others still unknown, that it’s hard to know how to answer:

“How are you?”
“How was the trip?”
“How was your year?”

These seem like innocuous questions. But often they force us to prematurely disclose at the cost of an invaluable plot line: that which is…

How am I (really)?
What do I ( really) think?
What does this (really) mean for me?

Which leads to…what to do?
A short answer feels untrue.
A long (more real one) might cost you the much-needed conversation you’re having internally, by assigning a story to something you don’t know yet.

Here’s the thing. We don’t owe marketing, messaging or status updates to the general public of our personal lives, and maintaining the vital membrane that holds genuine reflection together can take a conscious act of restraint.

Sometimes saying less – even if it’s not super true – is the right-est thing you can do. It may be your only hope in knowing what you really think.