Coming Out of the Blog Closet

In late October, I started blogging as an experiment. I waited until early November before letting a few folks (like my mama) know about it. Now, it’s time to tell some more friends that cheryl can… is open for business. Yes, you heard it right. After almost 19 years of cheryl v.2.0, it’s time for v. 3.0 to appear. You can get the back story by scanning So What? Why Now? and Cheryl Can…

Although I’ll continue my “day job” in 2011, I’m looking for some interesting projects that smart people need help doing. Need background research done on an individual or organization? I can help. Want to build better relationships with your clients? I’ve had a front-row seat watching a master connector. A friend at lunch today said, “I think you’re talking about linking and leveraging,” and that’s a better way to describe at least part of what I want to do rather than my standard response, “I do stuff.” And, yes, I still dream of a day where I can spend much of my time teaching people how to write thank you notes and letters of recommendation—the things that make up Good Home Training, at least in my world.

Over the past six months, I’ve talked to lots of people, read a gazillion articles, filled out official paperwork, and obsessed over details that nobody but me will ever care about. I’m sure none of this will cease in the coming days; I’m just broadening my circle and giving my advisory council a brief break. I won’t (or at least I don’t think I will) bombard my Facebook friends or the few Twitter followers with links every time I post, but one mention on New Year’s Eve seems a low-key way to start getting the word out. I post a couple of times a week on whatever topic strikes my fancy at that moment.

I’m famous for weighing in on challenges that others are facing, usually prefaced with “This advice and $3 will get you a cup of coffee in most places,” so it’s your turn now. What’s the best advice you ever got (or gave) about starting something new? Operators are standing by.

Aunt C's Holiday Games

It must be my event planner tendencies, but I think family Christmas celebrations need to involve some type of hands-on activity beyond eating and tearing wrapping paper.  It’s not a forced march of “Synchronize your watches; we’re playing a game at 4:00p,” but, more often than not, everybody in the house eventually wanders toward the action, and, before you know it, we’re laughing, arguing over the rules, and calling out the cheaters (you’d be surprised at who tries).

My family doesn’t regularly gather around the Scrabble board or play Trivial Pursuit with mad skillz.  If you do, you don’t need this post, so stop reading and come back another day. But, if your family, like mine, has a broad range of ages and interests, then maybe this will spark some ideas for after the presents are opened, the dinner dishes are washed, and you’ve already seen A Charlie Brown Christmas five times this year.

Go simple. Good Baptist girl, I don’t have extensive experience with Hearts, Spades or poker—too many rule permutations—but Phase 10 or Uno brings out the competitive spirit in just about anybody.  Think your grandmother won’t throw down a Skip card?  Oh, yes, she will, and she’ll smile while she’s doing it.  You were never sure where your killer instinct came from; now you know. 

Find something that everybody can play. Yes, you might have to tweak the rules, but when the oldest niece and nephew were young, they started the timer, rolled dice, or partnered with one of the grown-ups. They’re full participants and there’s a great-niece that I hope to put in this year’s rotation.

I took the Northern niece and nephews to the local Wal-Mart in Fordyce (population 4,900) this weekend and they chose Fact or Crap (catchy name, huh?). I was impressed by the way they determined whether it would work for everybody in the house.  SongBurst remains one of my all-time faves—my singing is awful; just ask anybody who knew me in college—but my sister-in-law and I team up and think Vegas is missing out by not calling.  We’re especially proficient with any disco tune.

Listen. Last year, Table Topics triggered stories and dreams I hadn’t heard, even though we’re a family of “sharers.”  Years ago during Scattergories, some topic prompted my grandmother to tell us about living in a boxcar for six weeks after their family farm in the Arkansas Delta was flooded, a story even my mom didn’t know.  During another game, we learned my mother-in-law had dated Don’s dad (Beverly and David’s, too) for only six weeks (!) before she married him.

Be creative.  So, games just won’t work for your family?  Then try something else.  We’ve decorated cookies; refrigerated dough and canned icing work fine with some simple cookie cutters and lots of sprinkles.  Gingerbread kits don’t require any advance prep either and even tweens and teens (and grandparents) end up posing proudly by their creations.  Last year’s limo ride for a night-time tour of the DC monuments isn’t something that we’ll do regularly, but it was a big hit and didn’t cost any more than taking 10 people out for a moderately priced dinner.

I love all things technology about as much as anyone in my generation can, but this is just a gentle reminder that old-school, “high touch” activities can yield some amazing results. Got any special activities that are your family traditions?  Please share with the class.

The Lessons of the Tacky Christmas Cards

I look forward to opening the mail these days since it’s the time o’ holiday cards. I usually start smiling even before I open the card. I guess which ones will have a photo, who will write a family newsletter (I know advice columns say, “Don’t!” but I like them and have been known to write a few myself), which greetings will be funny, which will be serious. And then I put them in a basket (well, they’re currently stacked on the island) and look at them again after the holidays are over. Yes, I save some of the photo cards because it’s fun to see how the “kids of my heart” have changed over the years.

This year, I’m depending on the kindness of family and friends to understand why I’m not reciprocating. But it won’t come as a surprise that I’ve spent some time thinking about the holiday card tradition that we began in 1992. Because I can rationalize just about anything, I’ve decided that the tacky Christmas card legacy taught me some life lessons that will transfer into future engagements with clients.

Be inclusive. Our first photo can only be viewed as a moment of serendipity (or insanity). Celebrating our first anniversary in the Poconos (now, you understand where at least part of “tacky” comes into play), we intended to take a photo somewhere on the grounds of the resort (with BOTH of us involved), but, after Don saw this print, no other option would do. We only bought 25 cards, thinking we'd send them to a select group of family/friends who would appreciate the quirky sense of humor. What we didn't consider was our friends talked to each other; then the phone calls began, “You don’t think I have a sense of humor?” Our entire list got the photo card, no matter the theme, every year after.

Without really thinking, I used the same process announcing this blog, but, post-January 1, I’m putting it on my FB page, sending emails to a broader circle of friends and colleagues, and holding my breath that my page views will increase. There will be some (I’m sure there already are) who wonder why in the world I’m doing a blog. I wonder that myself, but, just maybe, some really interesting projects will come from somebody I never even thought about as a possibility.

Join forces. The card from WKU’s 1999 Homecoming is perhaps my favorite and signaled a turning point in my attitude about the holiday card project. Big Red (the mascot who looks like Schmoo) was scheduled, but the cheerleading squad surrounded us spontaneously—yes, the game was in process and there were 4,000 fans thinking, “Who ARE those people and why are they on the sidelines?”  

I gave up on the argument that people sent photos of their kids, not themselves (!) and we became the dynamic duo, dividing duties based on our strengths. Don was the creative director and logistics planner. I handled the operations/admin side in ordering cards and prepping labels. We tag-teamed the licking and sticking. That’s what I hope happens in at least some of my new projects. I like working with trusted colleagues who do what they say when they say.

 Laugh at yourself. I’m not crazy about looking foolish. But a trip to the Magic Kingdom and a WKU alum who worked in Disney PR could only mean that “another Goofy card from the Collins’s” was our 2003 caption. Instead of the normal gaggle of five-year-olds standing in line for a photo op with the big dog, there we were. The Santa hats were an anomaly in March, but it provided for some smiles from our munchkin compatriots and their parents.

Nothing bad has ever happened when I laughed at myself. I’m sure it’s going to be a necessary tool in my 2011 kit.

Look for opportunities, but always have Plan B. The World Series in St. Louis (2004) card was pure chance—no Santa hats, we asked three strangers to stand with us, a lady we didn’t know snapped the pic, and the Cards lost the series in four (ouch!). The Monkey Business card (2009) was total Plan B when our hot air balloon ride was canceled (twice!). For years, we’ve had a Cheesehead idea in reserve. The hats are still in my possession if you want to borrow them.

cheryl v. 3.0 will be WIDE open to opportunity, but there’s an emergency fund ready in the wings.

The tacky Christmas card tradition may not be your style, but it gives me great memories and, most importantly, impetus for moving forward.  Happy holidays!

Attaboy, Attagirl, Attaway

In the South, you’ll often hear “Attaboy” when someone wants to give encouragement or express admiration (think Friday night football in a small town and you’ll instantly get it). Since I came of age in the ‘70s, I soon adopted “Attagirl” as a companion phrase (yes, I know that “girl” isn’t used by true feminists, but “Attawoman” just doesn’t have the same zing).

“Attaway” is a non sequitur but I can’t resist including it in this “atta” posting. Long before I knew anybody named Attaway (hey, William and Charlotte!), “attaway” was a watchword in my family. My daddy (pronounced so that three syllables are involved) moved me from apartment to apartment to apartment since I couldn’t afford movers. The seminal “attaway” moment came while we were trying to take a bookcase up a flight of stairs in a two-story duplex. I was on the front end of the bookcase and backing up the stairs (my daddy is a smart man) and the move involved the requisite twisting and turning that always occurs when you’re trying to move a five-foot bookcase in a three-foot stairwell. We managed to get about halfway up the stairs and got stuck. We were hot, tired, and completely over this move (when I was a schoolteacher, all of my moves seemed to happen on the hottest day in July and this was no exception). Daddy repeated with increasing intensity, “Attaway, attaway, attaway!!!” Never particularly gifted with spatial problems, I was completely confused. “Whataway do you want me to go?” was the perfect question because everybody in the house (my mom had heard the increasing volume and arrived to supervise or, more likely, referee) collapsed with laughter. These days we thankfully don’t move much furniture, but we begin any similar chore with “Let’s get the attaway direction clear before we even start.”

Ok, back to the original attaboy/attagirl conversation. It’s really just another way to talk about gold stars. Whatever term suits your fancy is the one you should adopt. The important thing is to take action. I recently saw an article about a guy who wrote a thank you note (to somebody for something) every day for a year. He’s written a book, 365 Thank Yous: The Year a Simple Act of Daily Gratitude Changed My Life, that’s scheduled for release at the end of this year AND he’s originally from Cleveland!.

I’m not crazy enough to think folks are going to write a note every single day of the year. Even I’m not that obsessed since I have clients to find in 2011! But I think I’m going to try to write a note, an email, a Facebook post to give somebody a “yeah day” as a young friend called it every week or so. If I meet my goal, 52 people may get a tiny boost. If I fall behind, then whatever number I accomplish will be a good thing.

Wanna take the challenge of the “attaboy/attagirl” with me in 2011? Let’s start!

Giving Good Phone

My phones, business or personal, don’t ring much these days. Why call when you can text, email, tweet, or post on Facebook? Yet, there are still enough times when phone conversations are the best way to get things done so here are a few tips, tricks, and rants.

On the “answering” side (especially if you’re a gatekeeper or a “Kahuna buffer”):

•     Smile when the phone rings even if you don’t recognize the caller ID. Ok, you have permission NOT to smile if it’s an 888, 877, or 800 number. Otherwise, put some joy in your voice. It surprises folks when it sounds like you’re actually glad to hear from them. I know it’s hard when you have a zillion things going on, but just do it. They may be calling with news you really want to hear!

•     Figure out the connection to the caller. Usually, I’m also sitting in front of a computer screen when the phone rings so, if I don’t recognize a caller immediately, I look them up in our office database to see their connection. I’ve also been known to google names that aren’t in the database. It’s surprising (and flattering) to the caller if you’re able to say: “Sure, I know who you are. You did x, y and z.”

•     Find out the purpose of the call. I answered the phone for the Chief for a lot of years and still do if the phone rings and I’m closest to it. In the early days, I could always tell his long-time friends and colleagues …they gave it up without any prodding. The cold callers were the ones who said, “It’s a personal matter” or “He’ll know why I’m calling.” If you’re able to talk about their connection (see above tip) before they get to the purpose of the call, they’re equally apt to tell you more than they had originally intended.

•     Write down every piece of info (including an email address) and repeat it. Assumptions always get me in trouble so write it down and spell it out. Cheryl can be spelled multiple ways and I always say, “Thanks for asking” when somebody asks me to spell it. I like those people!

On the “calling” side (works for both professional and personal calls):

•     Ask if it’s a convenient time for the caller to chat (especially if you’re about to make an ask). It gives the person an out if s/he is swamped and it lets them know that you respect their time.

•     If you get voicemail that says “leave a brief message” then it means “leave a BRIEF message.” Leave your phone number at the beginning of the message AND at the end. Persons who shall remain unnamed have left me messages where I can open the mail, change clothes, start supper and they’ll still be talking. Those stream of consciousness messages don’t mean much so leave your name, number and purpose of call and hang up (this advice is coming from a woman who prefers to use 10 words when one will do so you know I’m serious).

•     Unless you’re the boss (and then you have special dispensation, I suppose) or driving (when you really shouldn’t be making calls anyway), lose the speaker phone. You sound like you’re in a well and there’s the unspoken message that you’re calling somebody who doesn’t really matter because you’re busy, busy, busy with something other than the call. If you’re that busy, then wait to make the call.

•     If you get an assistant on the line, be nice. S/he can make your life pleasant (or miserable). I’m not an assistant these days, but I have a long memory of those folks who were nice to me and, more importantly, those who weren’t. The Chief always knew, usually sooner rather than later, who was nice (and who wasn’t). I’ve been blessed to work in places where hierarchy and caste systems weren’t front and center and I know that’s not always the case in the “real world,” but I’m just sayin’ that’s the way it ought to be.

What other tips and tricks do you use for a phone call? In my book, the phone is part of the “little c” communications toolkit.

PS – And if you’re under the age of 16 and hear, “May I speak to Jane (or Joe)?” Please, please, please (!) say, “This is she (or he)” vs. “This is her/him.” You’ll make a cranky old English teacher happy and, in return, I'll use your lingo when I text you.

The Power of Blue Toes

My latest pedicure involved “Ogre the Top Blue.” Ok, I’m fully cognizant that red needs to be the standard when people can see my toes, but it’s winter, people, I’m wearing socks!

You’re wondering, “What does this have to do with cheryl’s ‘I can help you’ plan?” But, it does…stay with me.

I’m not a risk taker. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty much a big ol’ scaredy cat (see Old Dog, New Tricks for further evidence; yes, I know, I’m mixing metaphors in this graf). I want to be appropriate, but understated, in attire (lots of black in my wardrobe). I want to completely understand the “rules” of any situation. I want to know in advance what’s going to happen and prepare for all scenarios. I often take myself way too seriously and worry entirely too much about what other people think.

For half of the cheryl v. 3.0 business model, these traits are oddly desirable. If I’m going to do behind-the-scenes work, I predict that folks will like that I show up on time, blend in, meet deadlines, don’t cause any drama, and worry about tasks so they don’t have to.

But cautious characteristics don’t work well for selling. I have to listen to what clients think they need, figure out what they’re really saying, and offer solutions for their challenges. I have to prove that I use all these new-fangled communications channels, even though I’m 25 years older than most of the people considered experts. And once I’ve piqued their interest, I have to talk money which considered “bad form” by most Southern ladies although we do love a little drama (and some pocket change).

I need to stop before I hyperventilate. That’s where the blue toes come in. They, along with a few other talismans which shall remain unnamed (although Thelma Houston, queen of the disco era, may well be involved) give me courage.  They remind me that I’m more than a middle-aged suburbanite. They give me confidence that I can put one foot in front of the other on this journey. They make me think of a wonderful day with people I love. They make me smile, never a bad thing when you’re in sales (or so I’m told).

Need your own blue toes? I can get you a deal on the Shrek Forever series of nail colors. Just let me know; they’re magic.