Birds of a Feather

Yesterday, I bought a bird feeder. Sited, assembled, and loaded it with freshly purchased food. Then, an anxious wait for winged dinner guests, who never showed up.

Long ago I was a birder, but the bird feeder is more about new friends. While I'd prefer to sight my earthbound friends from 40 years, with last month's move they are 400 miles away. I know, and practice, today's many ways to communicate -- text, email, FaceTime, Facebook, and the time-honored phone.

I miss proximity. Years ago, I wrote for a client in the travel business that you can't email a handshake. Nor can you FaceTime a hug.

It's not the same.

This morning, I woke to a brighter day. And, my new friends came for a breakfast of seeds and nuts.

Relocation = Dislocation or Who Moved My Keys?

Billy Crystal’s new book is called “Still Foolin’ ‘Em: Where I’ve Been, Where I’m Going, and Where the Hell Are My Keys?”

I can relate. Like Billy, I’m an aging boomer (wait, that’s redundant).

And, where are my keys, Billy?  My husband and I moved a month ago and precious unpacking time has been spent on key quests or looking for the iPhone charger, or seeking any number of other misplaced possessions.

Our patterns are disrupted.

Totally.

There’s a reason for this. We moved our keys 400 miles away from their usual places. Yet, according to the Holmes – Rahe Stress Inventory Scale provided by the American Institute of Stress (I’m glad I didn’t work there!), changing residences is only #32 on the list of life’s most stressful events. I also retired last month; retirement is #10. So, if you take the move, the retirement, add my age, and divide by the average mean temperature you get … no closer to finding my keys or the phone charger.

The good news is we put up a key rack. Now, to remember where it is and to use it.

Speaking Out on the Silent Profession

When I was the speechwriter at a large federal agency, I felt as if I had a large “S” branded on my forehead. People would see me as speechwriter and only speechwriter, not as a seasoned professional with a host of skills and years of communications experience.

But, a big S on a blue bodysuit might be appropriate for members of the silent profession. We ghosts slip into our windowless workspaces and, like Clark Kent stepping into a glass telephone booth (remember those?), transform ourselves into our alter egos – corporate executives, high-ranking government officials, politicians, and more – and deliver sound bites faster than a speeding bullet, craft metaphors more powerful than a locomotive, and develop messages to help our clients leap tall buildings in a single bound.

 

Halloween 2012 with Chairman Hersman and Strunk and White.

Well, that’s how this mild-mannered reporter views the silent profession of ghostwriting.

Like Superman in his never-ending battle for truth, justice, and the American way, there are many positive results that can come from well-written speeches – policy explained, people persuaded, politicians elected, to name just a few.

Even in today’s era of constant and immediate and telegraphic (to use a previous century’s term) communications, oratory remains a powerful means to capture hearts and minds.  Speechwriting as a career path is not going the way of telegraph operators.

And, it’s fun.

(1) You can be creative. Most writing can be creative, but the speech form allows you to really spread your wings.  There’s more to it than anaphora, triads, and rhetorical questions, among the techniques in writing for the ear. It’s choosing and developing a theme. It’s providing a fresh way at looking at an old issue. It’s weaving a taut tapestry of words and images.

(2) You get a seat at the policy table. It’s your work that helps articulate, and can even sometimes shape, the client’s thinking and the organization’s policy.

(3) To borrow from the good Dr. Seuss, “Oh, the places you’ll go.” Ghosting got me to the White House Roosevelt Room, New York City’s Fraunces Tavern for a briefing with financial analysts, and the back seat of a government vehicle for a four-block speech meeting with a cabinet secretary.

(4) … and the people you’ll meet, notably your clients who may be the smartest and most dedicated people you will ever know. That’s been my public-service experience. There are also the experts whose brains you’ll pick for research, like Admiral Cathal Flynn who graciously tutored me as I researched a post-Sept. 11, 2001, FAA speech on the evolution of aviation security and Johns Hopkins’ Susan Baker who helped me for an NTSB speech on “Vanquishing the Dragon of Alcohol-Impaired Driving.”

(5) Best yet, your work can make a difference. At my last stop before retirement I wrote for NTSB Chairman Deborah Hersman. My work helped her advocate for measures to address key safety issues, including distracted and impaired driving, which are responsible for thousands of deaths each year.

Yet, the silent profession comes with its own Kryptonite. There’s pressure to perform. You are only as good as your last speech. You often fly solo. In many organizations, there’s little backup for such a specialized skill set, not to mention specific client and organizational knowledge.

And, you need thick skin.  One client proclaimed, “This is boring” and flung a ten-page draft to the floor. (He gave it word for word two days later.) Special assistants half my age have specified sophomoric language to go in the draft. And, of course, I’ve had the experience common to everyone for whom words are their livelihood:  critiques from amateurs who think they are writers.

There’s also the awkward dance with the client until your relationship is established.  (With some clients, especially those with differing worldviews, it may never be established. Move on.)

A speechwriter’s role is to save the client time, deliver accurate material, and help him/her soar at the podium to get attention for the topic and the organization.  To do this, you must step into her shoes, climb into his brain, and even get under her skin. This personal tiptoeing can be awkward, that is, until a trusting relationship is formed. 

It’s all a ballet -- of words and ideas, images and issues, personalities and priorities, situations and circumstances. When it all comes together, the speechwriting craft approaches art and we silent professionals are delighted to wear an S on our foreheads or even on blue bodysuits.

Postscript: The Fifth Element in the Work Universe

My post earlier this week was about four hard-learned lessons from 40 years in the workplace, sort of a 532-word survival guide.

But, as I reflected, I realized there can be as much sun as shadow in the office … and I’m not talking about windows (though they are highly coveted among government workers). Light and warmth brings me to the fifth element, which you can pursue or luck into. 

And, like in the science fiction movie starring Bruce Willis, the fifth element can seem like a visitor from another world or some other rare species.

What is it?

A great boss.

What makes a boss great?  Here’s how an article on the job search website Monster.com defines it.

My definition is briefer. A great boss challenges you, supports and enables your growth, takes responsibility and knows that growth in the workplace, like baseball, is not error-free (note to reader:  if you mess up, fess up). To extend the sports analogy, a great boss coaches you privately and recognizes you publicly. Loudspeakers are nice.

All of which can come together to make the employee (almost) be willing to walk on hot coals for the boss.

Why are these bosses so few and far between?  Lack of good training, yes. But it also takes interpersonal skills and intrapersonal knowledge. But, most importantly, it takes a desire to develop and support people. And, that, gentle leader, takes time – time to learn and time, a lot of time out of the day, to do the right things by and for your people. Such as listening. As my mother says, “listening to hear.”

This is the boss, the great boss, I had at my last job, which made retirement even more bittersweet.  My hope is that Congress gets its financial act together and my retirement opens a spot so a young person can learn, thrive, contribute to the mission, and have fun. 

It can, and does, happen.  

I know.  Thanks Boss!

Four Lessons in Forty Years

I wanted to post this on Labor Day, a timely day to reflect on work, but a few moving boxes were in the way.  The delay did give me the opportunity to read a great article by Peggy Klaus in the Sept. 15, 2013, The New York Times about the wisdom and value of older workers.

As a recently retired older worker, I like to think I’ve gained some wisdom about the world of work. My philosophy falls somewhere between Thomas Edison and Steve Jobs. Edison purportedly wrote,  “Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.” In short, work means work.

On the other hand, there’s Steve Jobs for whom work was play, serious play, and he loved, if that word is strong enough, what he did.  Eric Jackson led with that in his January 22, 2013, Forbes article “The Ten Life Lessons from Steve Jobs We Should Never Forget.”

I only have four lessons.

(1)         There is always a boss.  And, that boss always has a boss, which means at times your boss’s motivation won’t be clear, but it could have to do with his/her boss.  Even though my grandfather said that, “They say and I heard are the two biggest liars in the world,” they are absolutely right when they say that people don’t leave organizations, they leave bosses.  I’ve done that. Twice. Before I was able to find a new job I learned it was really helpful to learn to say, “What a great idea; wish I’d thought of it.”

(2)         Learn how to be a subordinate, but don’t subordinate yourself. A boss needs to know that you know he/she is the boss.  Then, the boss will be more likely to support you and your work once the rules of the game are understood.  Yet, you do not have to subordinate yourself, your personality, or your quirks.  Well, it depends on the quirks.  I frequently wore Aloha shirts at my last job.

(3)         With apologies to Robert Fulghum, I learned a lot that proved to be helpful in the workplace from PTA. I could have skipped all those meetings and picked up those pointers from Kenny Rogers. You know the lyrics about holding them, folding them, and walking away. Sometimes you walk away from a job, a dream project, or a great idea. Other times, everything will break your way.  Those breaking good times are truly sweet.

(4)         You can be a leader whatever your position.  It’s not the title. It’s your influence and having your opinion respected and your ideas heard. That comes from knowing the business and knowing your job. It also comes from being a good colleague. Say thank you, early and often.  Give other people credit. The people who need to know about your contributions will know. They’ll also see you as that all-important team player. And, the people you recognize will be more likely to help you the next time you need them.

Yes, earning a living is work.  It can be hard. It can also be a world of fun, which I’ve been fortunate to experience at several stops on my 40-year journey to retirement.

Welcome to R & R

R&R traditionally means “rest and relaxation” and/or “rest and recuperation” for the military. For me, R&R is retirement and relocation. In early August, I retired after 40 years in the full-time workforce. Two weeks later, my husband and I moved to North Carolina. That was after two-thirds of a lifetime living in the Washington, DC, area, with the last 26 years in our home in Arlington, Va.

Emotions and possessions. Lots of emotions. Even more stuff.

Yet, retirement is hardly unique, especially for my generation.  On August 10, the day I retired, about 10,000 baby boomers turned 65. You may have read that every day between 2011 and 2030 some 10,000 baby boomers are turning 65.

In short, I’m not alone. A lot of us are going through transitions.

For 40 years, I paid the rent and later contributed to a mortgage, had a health plan (most of the time), and helped support a family by being a wordsmith.  

Wordsmith.  Isn’t that a wonderful word? It’s what I did. It’s what I still do, consciously and subconsciously. Ergo, R&R, where I will continue to practice my craft and write about a range of topics from the world of work, about writing, and about the dislocation, and adventure, of relocation.

I look forward to exercising my writing muscle and to broadening my circle and adding new ones.  And, to all those boomers who are turning 65 today, tomorrow, and the day after:  Happy birthday. 

Here's some of the stuff that didn't make the trip.