One happy Sunday, coming right up

Sunday morning, I asked for something extraordinary.

Not a raise, not a negotiated car payment, not a voyeuristic dinner with J.D. Salinger's widow. Even better: a quick and easy pathway to a happy, happy Sunday.

I picked up my cell phone, dialed a new friend's phone number, and asked if she'd like to have an impromptu coffee. She's my next door neighbor, and we instantly hit it off when she moved in a few months ago. And -- to my utter shock and delight -- I found out she has been reading The Daily Asker without knowing I'm writing it! What a small world. At a gathering I hosted a few weeks ago, someone mentioned my blog and she turned to face me. "YOU'RE La Roxy!?? What?! I had no idea!!" We both started laughing and since then I've been excited and slightly paranoid -- in a good way. Is my doctor reading this? My waiter? That literary agent sitting two rows ahead on the airplane? A girl can dream, right? ;)

Anyway, she said yes to my suggestion and we ended up at Lei Lounge, a Hawaiian themed restaurant, for brunch. When drinks are $3 and you're sitting under a tropical umbrella, it would be criminal to order the house coffee. Especially if it's not yet noon. Thus I had a guava champagne cocktail, she had an almond mai tai and we toasted. To everything, darling!

The moment reminded me of advice my grandmother, Tzushy, recently gave me:

"Are you happy? Do what makes you happy."

Tzushy knows exactly what's going on in my deepest heart. Even from the "hello?" uttered into a cell phone at a noisy intersection, she can tell if I'm rested, tired, worried, serene, stressed, hungry. She just knows. These past weeks she has registered my anxiety better then I could: I'm about to finish graduate school, and I've been faced with big decisions that will shape how I'll spend my waking minutes now and, consequently, how next decade could look.

So she gave me this advice: Do what makes you happy.

In matters big and small, do what makes you happy.

I think I'm starting to get it.

I started this writing business venture. I'm getting enough sleep. I'm definitely smiling more.

More often than not, you see, I believe I'm not doing enough: not reaching far enough, not achieving enough, not asking for enough. I'm not unduly hard on myself; I definitely keep things in perspective, kick my feet up and relax. Yet that impulse to analyse, optimize and self-interrogate is a steady undercurrent, surfacing the moment I need it most, pushing me to do more and better than I might have otherwise.

That's all fine and dandy. But what I also need to learn is how to avoid getting burdened by situations that are more complicated than they need to be. How to cut out unpleasant experiences and interactions unless they're necessary. How to simplify, cull, prioritize. And how to make serenity, and not stress, my default mode.

I like this litmus test: Will it make me happy?

If so, go for it. If not, think twice. Maybe it's necessary, maybe it's a small discomfort for a larger benefit for me or someone I care about, down the line. Or maybe it's just bullshit.

Seeing my friend for a sunny Sunday brunch made me very happy indeed.

All it took was a simple question: Wanna grab coffee this morning? And the willingness to reeeelaaaax.

Bellissimo!

[image via mike's journal]

Can I be your estate's literary executor?

On Friday I had lunch with a friend who was passing through town, and we started talking about what will happen to us, after. As in the great big after.

Her boyfriend died last spring. The term "boyfriend" is a pale version of what he was, because they'd been together for years and had built a life together.

It was one of those tragedies that are as incomprehensible as they are unfair.

A car. A curving highway. A dark night. A bright young man. History.

What happened in the aftermath has gotten her thinking, almost a year later, about preparation: what would she want done, if something like that happened to her? It's not that she particularly cares about her objects or the associated rituals, she explained, but she wants to make things easier for those left behind.

"Like my journals. Who will ever go through those? What am I supposed to do with those?"

"Can I have them?" I blurted.

She is an artist whose works have more than once given me chills. Because they're so beautiful and so true. I've watched her art develop since we were in high school together, and I would respect and honor her intimate musings.

"Yes. Thank you. Take them. Do what you think is right."

"I would read through them an try to publish them for you," I promised.

"Okay. Yes. Thank you. Just be sure to edit out things I wouldn't want published. You'll know," she said, and I smiled, and then we laughed. Because it's kind of a ridiculous conversation. I hope, and believe, frankly, that there will never be a day where I'll need to curate her papers. But if the sad situation does arise, I will at least be grateful we had this conversation, eating sandwiches under a trellis on a sunny Friday in 2010.

[image via freestockimages]

5 things I didn't expect to learn at my business counseling session

The dental interlude was just the first stop of a very busy Thursday.

After lunch, I headed to my local SCORE office, where I had made a free appointment with a counselor. The man I'd been assigned to was a retired bank executive, and his free time he volunteers to help aspiring entrepreneurs get their businesses off the ground. My goal for our hour-long session was to learn about six things (or as many as we had time for):
--how broadly or narrowly to focus the services I'll be offering
--whether or not I needed a business plan
--a few very basic bookkeeping questions
--how to decide how much to charge
--what are mistakes small businesses typically make when they're starting out
--what steps I need to take to make sure I'm doing things by the books, i.e. what basic things might I be overlooking besides a business license?

I wasn't sure what the protocol was: would the counselor have some standard info he'd tell me, or would it be a free flowing conversation?

It turned out the be the latter. I introduced myself, we started talking, he asked me what line of work I'm in, and then things took a turn for the worse.

"That's exactly what my niece does. She's a fantastic girl. She just moved to town and let me tell you, it's been a big change. She loves it here," he said.

"Oh really? How so?" I asked, figuring, for some odd reason, there was a purpose to his bringing her up.

"She just left New York, where she was making $100 grand, and decided to strike out on her own. You know, I'm here, her family is here, and I think she was burned out. She just wanted to be closer to us, and now she's really loving it! She moved about three weeks ago."

Unbelievably, this counselor spent twenty minutes or so talking about his niece: comparing me to her, saying how much I'd like to meet her, what a great career she had, what a nice girl she is. We're about the same age, and in the same line of work, and she is just so darling.

As he talked, I tuned in to the conversation that was happening at the cubicle next to ours. Another aspiring entrepreneur was getting advice about marketing, pricing, competition, paperwork to file. "I started a business at 54, too," his counselor told him. "You'll do fine. Just remember the four points I told you."

As this mustached old man talked, I wondered: Was it really and truly because I was a chick?

Did he believe this was an appropriate use of our time? He was, after all, kind of clueless. For instance, he suggested I learn what a blog is and then try linking it to my business home page because "everything is done on the internet these days. And if you get a blog, you should update it. Try once a week." He also said he thought an MBA is a prerequisite for a PhD.

Was he just an old man with a niece who wanted to connect on a human level? Maybe he just the oddball of the counselors, regaling every visitor with anecdotes about his family. Did he think I was there for a friendly chat? Maybe now that he was a volunteer, was he a bit self-indulgent -- finally allowed to prattle on, after such behavior was verboten at his bank.

Or was he just a jerk? I mean, if we'd met at a country club brunch and we had this conversation, he'd be the sweetest old man. But we were at a business meeting, and I'd been hoping to learn a lot in that session.

Finally, I stopped speculating and asked him to focus on me. I dropped a few names (my graduate school, the places I've worked) and he exclaimed that was impressive. I wasn't there to impress him -- I just wanted to get some answer to questions I'd been itching to ask. I held his attention for about 20 minutes. He told me about the legal stuff, the business bank account, how he charges his own clients and why I should do the same, and more of the nitty gritty.

And then kept coming back to his niece.

That's when I changed my strategy. He wants to talk about her? Ok. She's in my industry? Even better. She's a stellar human being? Fantastic.

"She really does sound charming. Actually, I think it would be great if I got to meet her in person! Do you think she'd be willing too have coffee with one of your advisees?"

"That is a great idea. You would have a lot to talk about. I'll call her right now."

He reached her on her cell, he told her about my background, and she said she'd be happy to have coffee with me.

So I picked up a few unexpected lessons at this counseling session:

1) Business is a human practice. If I just wanted information, I could have gotten it online or on the phone. Instead, I chose to interact with a retired bank executive. That came with a few strings -- he's older, not plugged into technology--but talking to him also opened my mind to this and the following revelations.

2) I have been very shielded from overt and veiled gender biases. My family raised me to think not just that I can do anything like a man, but that men aren't the standard. I set the standard. In academia I have never felt "sexism" per se (though yes, it's built deeply into the institution, and that's clearly troubling, but it's not something I come up against all the time); and in my professional field gender discrimination has been known to be an issue, but so far I've largely sidestepped it. I'm friends with people of all backgrounds, religions, nationalities, sexual orientations, races and political persuasions, but we're united by a similar outlook on gender parity. This was a reminder that we're probably in the minority, especially among older generations. Shudder. But a useful shudder.

3) A refusal can be an opportunity; constantly reassess your gameplan and seek optimization. Maybe the end result is even better than what you set out hoping to achieve. (In this case, I wanted business advice but I left with a contact instead. Could turn out even more valuable, at the end of the day.)

4) Your time matters. I waited too long to ask him to focus on the questions I had. As long as I asked nicely, and remembered he's a volunteer and owes me nothing, I could have shifted the conversation back to my talking points earlier than I did. Asking for respect earns respect.

5) Don't take things personally. Pride is useless. Think, act, and feel strategically. Plan for the ultimate outcome, not the play by play. Sure, I got frustrated about half way through, and though I didn't show it, I was feeling very indignant, but if I'd cut it short, I wouldn't have made a potentially useful addition to my network or learned what he finally got around to teaching me.

If my goal was to leave with more information than I had coming in, and this counseling session was certainly an illumination.

What do you think? Any refinements or contradictions? And I'm dying to hear your dirt: have you ever been treated like a silly little biddy in a similar situation, and how did you react?

[image via styleforall]

Heehee? Hohay, ha huhu ho.

Some people, when pointy metal things are jabbed at their prone and helpless persons, they just sit back pray.

Me, I'm a talker. An asker, actually, since that's the best I can do when all I have at my disposal are H's, vowels, and the tone of my voice.

"How hihi ho?" I asked, as she was telling me about a recent awkward situation she'd untangled.

"It went well," the hygenist answered as her pickax starting hacking at the next tooth.

"Heehee? Hohay, ha huhu ho," I said, and managed a smile.

"Thanks, I know, it really did work out for the best. Move your tongue to your right cheek please."

She kept on talking -- about her day, her family, her years working for this office, dental insurance, where she'd lived before -- and mostly I sat quietly, but once in a while I asked.

She was perfectly versed in my dialect. I never once had to repeat myself and I think that, after 25 years on the job, she could speak it in her sleep.

Once, I felt a jab of pain and jolted my eyebrows up in protest.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed.

"Hih hohay," I answered.

What else could I say?

"Hohe hu heha. Ha hi ho ho how." [That would be, "Forget the exam. Can I go home now?"]

Ho hay! (I mean, No way.)

I spent Thursday morning -- three hours of it, at least -- in a dentist's chair. It was a new patient visit, and I've never had had such a thorough exam in my life. Not even my high school math final, which I felt truly plumbed the depths of my cranial recesses.

Despite the impression I may give here, the hygenist was incredibly gentle: There was only one eyebrow moment on the whole session, and her talking put me at ease. I could have tuned it out, or just sat there quietly, or asked her to stop, but her stories got my mind off the other stuff. The sharp metal objects trying to get intimate with my second incisors.

And I don't know. It's impossible for me to listen to a tale from someone's life and not ask, react, interact.

[image via skinstore.com]

Insert scintillating asking here

I remember I asked for something Wednesday, but I forgot what!

Until it comes back to me, I'll insert this post as a placeholder.

Notes to self: Don't let three days pass before blogging, and if you do, write what you asked for on a post-it and stick it somewhere unforgettable. Second, if you're asking for something so banal you're forgetting it two days later, it's best to try again. Third, eat more fish. Does wonders for the memory, I'm told.

Onward!

[image via US News]

Will you be one of my people?

I know very little about running a business (apparently not enough to know I should have a functioning voicemail system, hehe, thanks readers). But there's one thing I know so far: surround yourself with good people. People you can trust, whose advice you respect. People who are willing to share some of what they've learned or help you in various tiny but crucial ways, knowing you'll do exactly the same for them, and others, when you're in a position to.

So that's what I've been doing. Asking left and right for meetings with, and advice from, individuals who I believe are successful in the domains I want to know more about.

Today, for example, I had a conversation with one of my new officemates. He's a marketing expert who focuses on helping small businesses establish themselves. What more could a fresh startup hope for in a friendly neighbor?

I mentioned a few choices I'm facing and he gave me his take. It wasn't an official "counseling session" at a desk, but the kind of fluid conversation you have by the watercooler. And I left with some useful ideas and, more importantly, the awareness that everything will be experimental; there is no clear path. I'll need to try 20 things before I decide what works, and that's if I'm lucky. That's very good to know, going in. Thank you.

A few days earlier, I asked a very successful San Diego entrepreneur if she'd sit down with me, so we could chat about what it takes to get a business up and running. It wasn't a total cold call, since I went to school with her kids and I'm often in her establishments (she runs several restaurants my family and I love). But it was a bit of a risk. She's not an old friend or someone I know very well, and maybe it came out of left field for her. But if I don't reach out, stretch, try to learn from the best -- if I don't at least ask and let them turn me down, instead of closing doors on my own -- how will I grow? (I mean, I can always fall on my face and learn from that, but if I have a mentor telling me, "pothole head" it might spare some bruises...)

Finally, I set up a meeting with a SCORE counselor. SCORE is a small business advising organization staffed by retired business people who offer free advice and some paid seminars. I found out about it by chance, while talking to someone else about his new business, and I made an appointment for a free Q and A session on Thursday.

So lots of asking going on, behind the scenes. Over time, of course, I hope to know enough to be able to teach others!

I can sense the focus of this blog changing, and asking becoming relevant in different ways. From asking just to ask, asking to build up courage, and asking to prove to myself and others that I'm worth an awesome answer, as I did at first, to asking because purely I wanted to, in the second half of 2009, now it's becoming an essential business tool, and something that's tied very closely to my survival.

The plot thickens.

And tell me, gentle reader, what's your take on "people" -- have you tried to surround yourself with mentors or counselors, and/or do you like to reach out and help others who are starting out? Is that valuable, or overrated, in your opinion, and you prefer learning from books, formal education or your mistakes?

[image via eistours]

Why quitting voicemail rocks

We interrupt the stream of daily asking to bring you an update.

I asked, several months ago, for people to stop leaving me messages.

Result: For the most part it's worked like a charm. I have been getting about 5 to 10 percent of the messages I used to, and I'm overjoyed by all the time that frees up.

Pros

1) I have wasted under 5 minutes in two months working my way through the endlessly inefficient voicemail system.

2) After an initial awkward adjustment period for friends and family ("You're what? Why!?? So annoying!") I think they've come around. It's effectively cutting out a middle man, so we're all more connected -- and happy. I think!?

3) People who are close to me have have stopped leaving messages entirely. Those who do leave messages are people who don't particularly care about my strange impulses anyway -- like my grandma. In other words, people I'd want to hear on my voicemail no matter what. Yay.

4) Friends are now texting more instead, which I appreciate. Faster and, for me at least, free. I hope text me costs less than calling me, for them.

Minus: Now when I see a missed call I feel more pressure to return it asap. I don't always, of course, but that thought is there. What if it's something important? Before, I could check my messages and do some triage before returning calls.

(But, as a plus to that minus, I've also gotten much more efficient with returning calls. A sample, authentic interaction from my day to day life: "Hi, I got a missed call from this number... Oh really? That's great!... Sorry, I need to keep this short because I'm about to meet someone, but what's up? Oh, sure, I'd love to meet you Ibiza next weekend. Let me check my calendar and get back to you. Baci!")

Another minus: I've been rushing to answer my phone if I think it's someone who wouldn't like my no-voicemail policy (and I cared). When I was looking to rent an office, the potential landlord called me back and I answered immediately even though it wasn't the most convenient time.

The next step: I'm actually wondering if I should stay off voicemail or go back.

What I want is to chuck it to the wind forever. But now that I'm starting this business, what if clients find that annoying?

Any thoughts? What would you do if you called a stranger you wanted to hire and heard, "Hello, you've reached La Roxy. I'm not checking messages, but I return every call I see on my caller ID. If it's urgent, please text me. Thank you!"

I could adjust it to say "for increased productivity I rarely check voicemail." Or, I could play around with google voice.

(In other news, I'm claiming Monday as a day off from asking. I had a great day: got great feedback on some work I turned in and fell asleep at 7 p.m. No time to ask between all that. But I thought I'd offer this update, to keep the ball rolling...)

[image via maths.org]