Progresso

Does that mean progress or just spaghetti sauce? Anyway, we’ve had a busy week (starting last Saturday).

New garage doors are installed — a marathon effort for Mike. The directions advise allowing 12 hours per door for installation for 2 people. Mike did them both himself over 2 long days, along with first reframing the openings so they would fit. Next step is to install the openers (a luxury I used to take for granted) and finish trimming everything out.

garage doors for web Beforegarage floor during  New floor in process
garage doors during  New door going up
garage doors after  Voila!

We also have the new porte cochere pier rebuilt and the new columns in place. Yes, it’s actually straight now, though my picture doesn’t make it look that way. We are blessed to have such a great neighbor who let us have ugly support beams in her lawn for so long — thank you, Chris! Next step is to clean/paint the columns (probably next spring) and get a stucco finish over the concrete block to match the foundation of the house.

leaning pier before   pier removed
Old leaning pier                              Old pier removed

pier in process  New pier in process

new pier in place  Voila!

This about wraps up the outside work for this year. But no worries, next spring the fun begins all over again with a new retaining wall in the back of the driveway, repair of the front porch foundation, and maybe, just maybe, replacing (or tearing down and saying good riddance to) the dilapidated porch roof railings that I detest so much. 

Of course, there’s still PLENTY to do inside over the winter. Did I mention we’ve been remodeling the kitchen for oh, 7 months or so?

It’s a little like wrestling a gorilla. You don’t quit when
you’re tired, you quit when the gorilla is tired.
                                   ~ Robert Strauss

Let me have this moment.

That subtle breeze you felt today was my sigh of relief as I handed in a project I’d been fretting over. Great people, interesting subject, good source — it shouldn’t have made me crazy. But it was my first project for a new client  — well, old colleague and friend from a previous job, now in a new company, and a damn good writer in her own right — which always involves stage fright. What if I forget how to do this? What if I write something totally inane? What if her boss asks her, “Where did you find this bozo?” What if they hate it? What if they hate me? It’s junior high all over again. And it’s exhausting.

For a while, though, once you hit that send button, it’s pure, unadulterated joy. I even got back some positive initial feedback. Life is good in this brief moment before “we love it” shifts to something else entirely, something like:

Hi. Bob has some changes.
1. The first paragraph is too informal. I am not sure what suggestions to make but it doesn’t start out how Bob would like it to.
 2. Add these buzz words anywhere into the article- Profitable Growth and Operational Excellence

    Please let me know if you have any questions. 

This is actual feedback I received from another client a few months ago. To her credit, my friend/client from my current project had this to say when I shared this with her at the time (in a commiserating way):

Tell Bob his name is too informal and he should go by Robert.

Priceless.

What was I so worried about? I’m working for another writer. Someone who gets it. Who’s been there, done that, right there with me.

So what if tomorrow brings markups and rewrites. My work couldn’t be in a better editor’s hands. I’ve had my moment in the sun. And I’m still happily blinking. 

I am returning this otherwise good typing paper to you because
someone has printed gibberish all over it and put your name at the top. 
                     ~ English Professor (Name Unknown), Ohio University

New Dogs, New Tricks

I happened to see 60 Minutes last night and the story on Millennials struck a chord. Millennials are the future — young 20-somethings fresh out of college and entering the workforce for the first time. They are a generation raised close to their parents’ bosoms and content staying right there. They’ve been rewarded and awarded in every conceivable way throughout their young lives, often for just showing up. Though comfortable being fully wired (or wireless), and extremely technologically savvy, many have never had to punch a time clock.

My friends and I have had many conversations trying to understand the Millennial phenomenon and its creators — helicopter parents, so named for the way they hover over their children. College administrators tell of parents who call their child’s professor to argue about a grade or get assignments when Justin or Caitlin has a cold. Recruiters tell of kids who bring their parents on job interviews and can’t or won’t make a decision without first consulting mom & dad. Millennials describe their parents as “my best friends.”

I say collectively for MY generation — the young boomers (and probably the older boomers too) — HUH??? My friends and I can’t comprehend tolerating such intense parental involvement let alone welcoming it. Our parents couldn’t wait to trot us off to school, left us to mostly sink or swim on our own in our studies and social interactions, urged us to get a job and expected us to do it, were certainly (all too) willing to give (unsolicited) advice, which we were happy to ignore. Both we and our parents relievedly shut the door behind us with a collective WHEW! when the time came for us to make our own way in the world. (Case in point: I can still see my parents showing up at my new house shortly after I moved in, hauling a carload of my stuff that had been in the attic. Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?)

What my friends and I haven’t reconciled is how the Millennials got that way — clearly our contemporaries created this situation, though all of us fervently deny we are or will be that way with OUR kids.

The gist of the 60 Minutes piece, though, was what happens when these pampered, idealistic, uber self-esteemed kids go to work? Chaos apparently, as the square business world tries to accept all these round pegs. A whole industry has sprung up for consultants who specialize in helping companies deal with Millennials (and the reverse, teaching kids how to act in the workplace. “Keep those tattoos covered up at work” was one tip.) Similarly, the “Motivation” business is a $50 billion industry — seeems that kids who have gotten stickers, ribbons, trophies, certificates, treat bags on their friends’ birthdays, and presents every time they or their parents entered a store won’t accept “you get to come back tomorrow” as their reward for a day’s work. Millennials say their friends and activities come before work and believe that adulthood doesn’t start until age 26 or so.

The more I think about it, maybe these kids are onto something. Maybe they’ve spent their whole lives watching their parents (e.g., my friends and I) struggle with long hours, corporate bureaucracy, office politics, and thankless toil — and naturally want none of it. How much time has my generation wasted bitching about work? Didn’t I leave the financial security of “a real job” to work for myself, make my own hours, choose my own clients, and put my family, friends, activities — my life — first? Aren’t millions of boomers looking forward to retirement as the chance to do something they really care about?

Why spend 30 or 40 years at work just biding time for the day you don’t have to do it anymore?

It’s conceivable that these millennials will be my clients (my bosses) in 5 or 10 years. It will be interesting to see how they adapt to the working world and how the working world adapts to them. Will the vast organizational machine change them, or will they build a new machine? Will they destroy America’s ability to compete or raise it to new heights? Time will tell. I hope I’m open-minded and savvy enough to learn the new tricks — and smart and credible enough to teach a few of the old.  

Our wretched species is so made that those who walk
on the well-trodden path always throw stones at
those who are showing a new road. 
                                                           ~ Voltaire

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