In Memoriam of Memorial Days Past

I am braising short ribs to cap-off a fun-filled Memorial Day weekend. I have three hours to spare according to Miss Smitten Kitchen before the bones separate and I'm supposed to pry my hand away from my glass of wine to start the fat-draining, reduction making, and swiss chard preparing processes. So while partially paying attention to Notre Dame's attempt to beat Duke in the NCAA Men's Lacrosse Championship game, I'm getting that nostalgic, what-happened-in-years-past feeling. Ah ... where have I been in Memorial Days past? And how far have I come?

In 2000 I was playing lacrosse in the National All-Star tournament in Springfield, Massachusetts. I finally made the Mid-Atlantic team as one of the two or three players that Pittsburgh gets to send, and I was determined to showcase my goal-scoring talent. Even though the experience was a humbling lesson in how real lacrosse was played, I managed to knock in a couple of goals in front of the college recruiters that lined the field. Soon after the tournament I graduated from the Ellis School (my high school) with horrible tan lines from a day spent at the pool, ready to start the next Chapter in my academic and athletic adventures. But first, my best friends and I celebrated at every nightclub in Cancun.

The Memorial Day weekends of college were not that memorable - I think they can be summed up by lazy days at the Pittsburgh Golf Club pool followed by Barry festivities in the evenings.

Memorial Day weekend 2004 through 2007 brought escapism in Sin City. In May of 2004 I said goodbye to collegiate lacrosse. I stepped off the field at Northwestern University in tears - crying because the mannish girls in gray unitards had just eliminated us from the NCAA tournament and with that our national championship dreams; because an amazing part of my life was over; and because I had no clue what my next move was going to be. The same fateful weekend that we lost, I also graduated with my best friends from college. A week later, with no intention of figuring out 'next steps' I flew to Las Vegas to have a very exclusive Memorial Day weekend graduation party with some of my best friends.

For five days we tore up the town - danced with ancient Asians (Kristen, I won't show the picture) and celebrities like Jerry O'Connell. And swore that every year, Memorial Day weekend, we would come to Vegas together to party. The tradition lasted three years, until the first of us (the one that met her husband on a flight home from Vegas) got married. For me, each of these Vegas vacations was just what I needed, when I needed it - a reminder that despite doubts and downers, I had amazing friends that always brought the best and the party out of me.

A couple years later, the Memorial Day of 2008, I was in a place drastically different and removed from where I had been in the past. I had been through my first year of business school, which didn't just bring the opportunity to reignite and redirect my career aspirations, but it brought my boyfriend. During Memorial Day weekend, I was moving closer to my boyfriend's hometown and a successful career. I was moving my stuff into a small bedroom in the Lincoln Square neighborhood of Chicago. My roommate for the summer wasn't there, so I opened my computer and set my move to the pop tunes of 2009 - dancing my way into the Renaissance room that I would call home for three months. My boyfriend's mom added the finishing touch when she stopped by to bring me flowers as an apartment-warming gift. It was a great start to a great summer. 

Last year, Memorial Day weekend 2009, brought another chapter in my life's uncertainty. I was waiting to hear whether or not I would get my dream job, but I didn't let this stressor interfere with the weekend's celebration - the wedding of two of my favorite people. My boyfriend's sister and her husband got married at St. Michael's in Old Town and celebrated at the Art Institute of Chicago in sheer class. From start to finish it was an elegant affair that marked the beginning of a beautiful marriage. (As a side note, I wore an amazing blue Theory dress with black five inch Cole Hahns.) I boogied down with the whole family, which was of course an exposition, as most had never seen my puppet dancing in full-form before. While on the dance floor, in the arms of my boyfriend, and in the presence of some of the most fun-loving, generous, and kind people that I know - my stress didn't exist. Everything was okay.

This year I was in Los Angeles visiting two of my good high school friends, Tricia and Gretchen, who had recently moved to the West Coast. It was a 48 hour whirlwind of intense activity, broken up by sumptuous feasting and rip-roaring laughter. 

I ended my rigorous Saturday of running, hiking, tanning, and walking in L.A in sheer celebration - over champagne cocktails, Cher and shimmy-shakes in a nightclub in West Hollywood. It wasn't a far cry from the dancing that I had done in years past - but it was with a new perspective on life - one that echoed emotions that I felt during the hike earlier that afternoon. 

Although it was difficult to navigate the steep grades and trying terrains after my routine morning run, I did it. I was uncertain about whether or not I could make it - I was exhausted from the morning run, I wasn't properly dressed, I didn't look that great without my make-up on - but driven by an insatiable appetite to achieve more, support from friends, and laughter along the way, I made it, to the top - but with a view of more mountains to climb in the future. I know these future mountains may be far more difficult to climb, but I'm sure I can scale them. I am pretty proud of the accomplishments that I have made so far. I also know that am equipped and conditioned to face and overcome upcoming obstacles. 

And ... when I fail, I know that every Memorial Day, I will always have great friends by my side. They will be there for me for good or for worse - to listen, encourage, and ultimately to celebrate and dance with me.  

The ribs are ready ... 

Lo 

Keeps Your Friends Close, and Your Family Closer

My small elementary school, St. Edmund's Academy, had an annual talent show. It was comprised of roughly 70 acts, lasted two hours, and was very predictable. 65% of the participants played the piano (poorly) with the exception of two sets of siblings that battled for the title of most dominantly dexterous family: The Asians who were masters of skill versus the Anglo elite who added tempered emotion to their repertoire. Another 25% of the participants attempted to put Mrs. Lutz' instrumental lessons to the test on stage. Worse than the Camptown Races-playing piano players, these kids inevitably ended up deafening the audience with piercing squeaks as they tried to pass into the upper register.

The remaining acts were the more original and memorable. Jessica Block sang "For the Beauty of the Earth" as a solo; Nathan Appel and Aaron Sokolow did different Abbott and Costello acts; A very short Jewish kid danced to and impersonated Michael Jackson - white glove, moonwalk, 'I'm Bad,' no mask; One of the eighth graders recited The Raven; And ... in second grade, after watching the annual performance two years in row, envious of the attention that the participants received, I got the courage to sign up and became one of those unique acts.

I had been ballet, jazz and tap dancing since the Pre-Kindergarten, and I loved it. (Hmm ... still do.) When it came to recital time every year, I was perhaps the most enthusiastic, confident, smiley, and showy girl on stage. Meghan Nichborowitz may have trumped me in skill and flexibility, but I had the pizazz, panache and presence that enabled me to win jazz dancer of the year circa 1989. Equipped with this love of dance and sense of confidence, I decided I was seasoned enough to dance in front of all the boys that I had crushes on at my school (and there were many!) And I entered the talent show.

I still remember putting my name on the list outside of Mrs. Lochran's music room:
My talent - Jazz dance.
The artist I danced to - Madonna. (In second grade I picked Cherish, but future routines were set to the beats of Vogue, Express Yourself and Like a Prayer.)
My costume - a gold leotard that my sister still likes to remind me looked like a gold swimsuit.

When it came time for the big show I knew my dance cold and I looked good (crimped hair with a little headband; stomach not sticking out as much as usual; little bit of stage make-up compliments of my babysitter, Debbie). But ... I was extremely nervous.

There was a trifecta of nerve-wracking factors: First, I was #67 out of 70 acts, meaning I was nearly the finale of the show, and who can compete with Abbott and Costello?! Second, my positioning in the show sandwiched my act and thus my seat in the auditorium between my two older grade-school crushes - Eric Nordby and Ryan Sansosti. Just sitting next to them was bad enough - sitting next to them while only wearing a leotard, when everybody else was fully clothed, made it ten times worse. Third, with only five minutes remaining till show-time, I still couldn't find my parents in the audience.

The monstrous portion of linguini with clam sauce that Debbie made me eat after school started to fire back as my nerves escalated and the clock inched closer to 6 PM - the start of the show. My Mom always complained about events starting too close to the end of the work day or during dinner time - and this show fit into both of these scheduling predicaments. I knew my family was going to cut it close, as they always did, but not sensing their presence as the lights started to dim, made me more and more nervous. But just as the sole kindergartner of the show took the stage for his piano piece, I was relieved to see my family enter the auditorium and take their seats. Just like that my heart stopped palpitating at a record pace, the butterflies flew away, and my carbo-loaded dinner converted into pure energy.

After an hour and forty-five minutes, it was my turn. I ran down the stairs of the auditorium and up into my spot on center stage. As "Cherish ... Cherish ..." started ringing through the auditorium, I plastered my big showy smile on my face and started bouncing across the stage in waves of jazz-squares and jazz-hands, wrap-arounds, sachets, shoulder movements, and pointed poses. As I jazz-ran my way into my final pose, and the audience broke into approving applause, I looked up to see my family beaming with pride and praise at my performance.

After the show they greeted me with a big bouquet of flowers; gave me big hugs and told me how well I had done in comparison to the rest of the acts - how special my act was. With them by my side, I didn't care if others found my talent a little odd - I was no longer embarrassed or shy - I could perform at my highest level knowing that I had their support.

My parents both had full-time jobs when I was growing up. But whenever there was something important. When we had a Greek Banquet, our art displayed in an art show, the lead or even the bit part of 'girl-laughing' in a play, the coveted lead girl medallion in Chapel, or the 24-hour flu, they were there. No matter the time of day or day of the year, they were there for all the important stuff. They believed that we - us kids and their family came first. As I try to juggle my professional and personal life, without children, I can see and finally appreciate the difficulty, exhaustion and selflessness that went into my parents' master planning to be at our every event.

This past week there were a couple occasions that made this lesson I learned during my early childhood - that family matters most and makes all the difference - relevant during this phase of my life.

This past week my Dad was honored as a distinguished alumnus from the Katz School of Business. When he told all of us that it would be really nice if we came, I was kind of like - 'okay - so I'm supposed to cross off one of my coveted vacation days, buy a plane ticket, and not stress out about not being able to answer the 56 emails that will inevitably start blowing up my phone?!'

But after thinking about it, I knew that yes - I had to fly home, sit next to my father during the ceremony, cheer him on, give him a big hug after he accepted his award and made an inspiring speech, and pose for pictures afterward. I knew my presence to my father that evening was congruent to my parents' presence for my every award, artistic endeavor, and athletic event (anybody that can sit through that many women's field hockey, softball and lacrosse games deserves massive kudos). What meant the world to me through grade school and high school, I have come to realize means the world to my parents and siblings as well.

A couple days later I made the two-hour drive south to attend my brother's graduation from Notre Dame Law School. A couple months before the pomp and circumstance, he wrote us all an email with the weekend's schedule and a disclaimer that he wasn't into all the graduation stuff, and he didn't really care if we attended. But when the whole family was there, cheering him on as he got hooded, I knew he really did care. Maybe he didn't need us there for the ceremony of it all, but he needed us there to toast him and celebrate his victory over all-nighters, the uber-competitive dorky set, and finally having an exit strategy from a seven-year stint in South Bend, Indiana.

Finally, this week I had the opportunity to study one of my professional role models in action at a charitable fundraiser. I was invited to an event in support of St. Judes Children's Hospital and Research Center by this former Chief Marketing Office and soon-to-be CEO. When I entered the ballroom with my boyfriend to take the seat at her table (front row, center) I was surprised, but pleasantly so, to find out that our party for the evening was entirely made up of her family members. I was the lucky intruder in this close-knit inner circle. An aura of warmth, friendliness, and reality set the tone for our dinner table. And while the other tables around us were talking about business deals, trophy wives, and golf games, we were talking about weddings, new additions to the family, high school sports, and college searches. It made me realize that when you achieve a certain level of success and your job becomes not just full-time, but all the time, it makes it a lot better to have your family there by your side during the parts of it that they can be.

She told me after the event that I was astute to notice that her family was always by her side. She said, "that's what matters in life."     

Whether you consider 'family' close friends, neighbors, colleagues, or immediate family; it's the unwavering support of these loved ones that enhances your spirit to achieve. When I got up on stage in the second grade in my gold leotard - I knew my act was a little different. I knew I was young and that the upperclassmen were going to think - 'what is this little girl doing on stage wearing that?!' But I confidently performed my routine, struck a pose and then made my bow - I could do this because I knew my family would give me a standing ovation no matter what.

As you sign up and sign on for the circus of corporate America - you sign up to produce and perform - to be evaluated and judged on your talents and how you employ them. But as you balance on the high wire, swing from the trapeze, play the clown, perform juggling acts, and tame lions - know that there will be some that boo you off the stage - and some that shout out, "ENCORE!" In the end your loved ones will be the consistent presence in your life cheering you on no matter what. They are what matters, they know what counts.

Congrats Dad and Lil Bro!

Lo

To Do: Make a Cake (and eat it too!)

Prior to her arrest for insider trading, I was a huge fan of Martha Stewart. From watching her branded multi-media efforts I learned the best way to wrap presents and fold napkins, tend my vegetable garden (with a sun hat and gloves of course), and prepare the most beautiful baked goods.

Martha was the first person to teach me how to make lemon curd. While my classmates were watching cartoons, I tuned in to her show to watch and learn how to prepare it the Martha way one Saturday morning circa eighth grade. I watched her choose plump lemons from a glass bowl next to her perfectly arranged yellow roses on her restored 1891 farmhouse kitchen table; zest and juice the lemons with the utmost facility and without the Rachel Ray collection of kitchen crap; whisk in the sugar; fold the egg yolks into the mixture as her soporific voice told me about the farmer down the road that raises the chickens; effortlessly blend together these ingredients with the butter that was already starting to melt on the double boiler; continue to mix at an adagio with a wooden spoon grasped by her subtly manicured hands; and when it grew thick enough remove it from the heat, place it in a glass bowl, and slide it into her SubZero refrigerator. At this intermission period of her curd making she sought to teach me how to craft a wreath from the cranberries she went bogging for at 5 AM. However, I never enrolled in this segment of the show.

After hanging cranberry wreath above her front door and waving to her equally wealthy neighbors, she went back to her refrigerator to unveil her perfectly formed lemon curd. Then, I played witness to the tart assembly and the guaranteed perfection that makes a Martha Stewart creation what it is. Inspired and in idolization, I rushed into my parent's kitchen to do my part to perfect the Sunday edition of Fischer Family Dinner.

Ultimately, my lemon curd tart wasn’t the picture perfect creation that Martha seamlessly produced. There was a section of the crust that was a little uneven; the curd wasn’t as silky smooth as Martha’s; I couldn’t slice it just the way she did and I forgot to candy the lemon rinds for a garnish. I couldn’t reach the stratosphere of perfection that Martha could, but for my family (those that ate it) it was the masterpiece that crowned an epic feast of rapidly consumed veal parmesan, rice pilaf, and sauteed spinach.

This past weekend, I decided I would revisit my love of lemon curd. A decade and a half removed from my first attempt, in service to my other family (the boyfriend’s family), and disillusioned from Martha’s jailbird days, I turned to a new recipe and a new perfectionist, Miss Smitten Kitchen, to create my Mother’s Day masterpiece.

The description written on SK's blog was much more approachable then the pristine high-life of Martha Stewart. Only certain elements of SK's life and her food preparation are revealed, so it leaves some of the interpretation of the process and drama behind that baked good up to the baker.

The recipe – Lemon Layer Cake – a tiered 1-2-3-4 vanilla cake compartmentalized by gooey lemon curd and topped and smeared all around with seven-minute frosting that adds that Alice and Wonderland magic to this heavenly delicacy.

I was set on making this my best layer cake ever. No cake mix, no store-bought icing, the real thing. The real thing took on a new meaning though when removed from the well-equipped kitchen of my youth. The real thing meant taking a trip back to the times of Martha Stewart’s 1891 farmhouse table, and creaming butter with sugar, flour and milk by hand; furiously stirring the outers and innards of lemons, melted butter and EIGHT egg yolks (yes, lemon curd is not one of those lean life recipes) over a double boiler; and whisking the hell out of eggs whites, cream of tartar, water and sugar to get the height and dimension to the lusciously photographed icing on the blog.

The real thing also meant no cake stand, so my assembly took place on the wrong, but smooth side of a glass dish, which was most likely meant to be used for a crudités with a centerpiece of Ranch dressing. With a swollen, aching right arm I assembled the cake, and as expected, it was no Martha Stewart perfection and it didn’t seem as marvelous as SK’s. My boyfriend kept the encouraging remarks flowing though – and all I kept thinking was that it didn’t look exactly like the picture. Smitten Kitchen’s icing was higher, flufflier, and more elegant. I still couldn’t make Martha Stewart’s perfect lemon curd. And there was of course a crack in one of the cake layers.

Just like my adoring family of fans who ooed and awed over my lemon curd tart, the boyfriend’s family was duly impressed and grateful for my addition to the feast. I was happy that it made them happy, but when dessert time came and I started to cut and dish out the cake, I was secretly calculating what to do to make it picture perfect. (A #1,2,3 and 4: Invest in an egg beater, Kitchen Aid mixer, spatula, and cake stand!

Everyone sat down, dug in, and started to illuminate with that sweet, satisfaction of dessert, and I have to admit that I enjoyed every bite along with the group. Despite the thin icing, textured lemon curd, and cracked top layer of the cake, it tasted damn good, and everyone else seemed to think so too.

So ... I guess the point is: Cooking and baking can be intimidating mostly because we have an image in our mind of what the process and end result are supposed to look like. Sometimes we don't want to try for fear of failure. However, like most other things in life, it's those imperfections, trials, and mess-ups that make us and our creations more original - more delectable - who we are. There is no perfect - there is no one way. Learn from Martha Stewart, the ultimate perfectionist - sometimes striving for absolute returns, leads you straight to the penitentiary.

Happy Baking (and eating!)

Lo

Attention Please

This past week I presented our summer campaign concept via Webinar to our Chapters. The goal of the campaign: to penetrate the noise of the crowded charitable landscape by aligning the many voices within our system around one message geared at our mommy demographic. Basically, it's akin to "the one ... two ... three ... everyone shout 'MOM!'" approach to getting the attention of the keeper of the cash. Our message is about how small acts of kindness, particularly donations of pennies, nickels and dimes, add up to make a big difference, and we believe our linked-in system will be able to create a surround-sound approach to capitalize on our call-to-action.

I had the floor to myself when explaining the campaign approach. Over 100 representatives from our system were muted on the other end, and I had the rare opportunity to speak to and inspire a captive audience. It felt pretty weird at times though. On and off while rambling, I got that awkward Webinar feeling of: 'Hello ...  Is anybody there? ... Can you hear me? ... That was a JOKE!' Which in turn made me think, especially towards the end when no one even raised a virtual hand, 'Are they really listening?"

The answer - probably not. At least, not listening intently. Most likely, the people I was preaching to were BBMing, texting, IMing, chatting, downloading, uploading, browsing, checking in and playing Bejeweled simultaneously, thus only digesting about 10% of what I said.

So Webinars, and work for that matter, can get a little boring at times and the opportunity to multi-task may arise. However, recently I was thrice struck by this need to have rich multi-media experiences in all that we do in our culture. We are living in an era where people don't just want to pay attention to one thing, they want it all at once, otherwise it's monotonous.

The first strike of this cultural pattern came from studying the conversational habits of collegiates when I went back to my alma mater a couple weekends ago. A year removed, I was able to be a scientist of sorts and study the behavior patterns of the over-achieving population. Universities like Notre Dame are basically Millennial Generation petri dishes. All of the over-protected/praised/confident/optimistic Millenials have been cultivated and encased in an environment that enhances their existing behaviors, presenting a bevy of opportunities for marketing and management theorists to probe and predict the next generation of corporate and consumer culture.

During a morning run on campus, I had one such opportunity to study the population. As I ran one way, I passed about three sets of girls on morning strolls walking the other. The girls were walking in tandem around the lake, engaging in Saturday morning gossip sessions. These conversations focused on searches for summer internships, campaigns for student government, final exams, try-outs for first tuba, harsh professors, harsher roommates, and stress - OVERWHELMING stress! (As a benchmark, my girlfriends and I used to have similar weekend chats, but I used to focus the discussions on foggy reminders of last night's debacles, confessions of which weight lifting exercise I skipped to avoid massive shoulders and thighs, status updates on the latest athlete crush who I had inevitably failed to gain the attention of yet again, and laughter, LOTS and LOTS of belly-hurting laughter.)

The conversations that I observed that morning though weren't only different based on the subject matter, they were odd because of the way in which they were being conducted. One set was half conversing, half listening to the whiny singer/songwriter du jour on their iPhones - meaning literally, the girls were offering one ear to their friend, and the other was capped with an ear plug. Another set was talking and texting at the same time. And the third was comprised of one girl on the phone talking to someone else while the girl next to her was reciting her weekend woes. I couldn't believe these interactions or lack thereof. No wonder they were all so stressed out. They couldn't manage the one on one relationship in front of them, let alone all the rest of the things they were trying to take on in their lives.

The second testament came at Church. During Mass last Sunday a very dynamic priest delivered an amazing homily about the difficulty of reaching a congregation through the sole means of speech in the 21st century. He lamented that in this digitally enhanced era, preachers have lost their luster because people no longer have the attention span to listen to a homily that doesn't involve applications, 3-D effects, social networking platforms, game systems, and surround sound.

The priest urged the congregation to listen though, and through the baby wails, baby talk and motherly coos of the women trying to silence their children, I did. He spoke of the importance of keeping an attentive ear toward the silences. It is then - in peace and quiet - that God reveals his presence. He made references to the myriad of revelations in the holy scriptures that came through simple words, spoken when the receiver was in contemplative prayer. The Church was built by those that listened - by those that heard the sacred call-to-action and put those words into their missions.  Whether a church-goer or not, there is something to be said for taking some time to engage in restorative, thought-provoking, inspirational moments of silence.

Third and finally, I became the testament to our culture's inability to listen. During our Monday team meeting at work I realized that although I try not to associate myself with the Millennial Generation, I am guilty at times of their focal deficiency. I took on the role of the culprit as I grew distracted by the little red blinking light on my Blackberry. As one of my teammates rattled off her status updates, I looked down at my mobile device and pondered the possibilities that could be unveiled with a simple password entry - could it be a new Twitter follower? A meeting invite? A BBM from my friend in Media Relations? A text message from my boyfriend? Oh the excitement of potential messages on my dashboard ... And ... suddenly I felt a swat on my hand by my manager who had without warning become intolerant to people checking their Blackberrys during meetings. Yuck, I was ashamed.

As I sit in my apartment at the end of this week in near silence - that is with the exception of my keyboard, the wind howling outside and the rhinoceros of a girl that lives above me stampeding her way through a hangover - I'm reflecting on the moments in my life when I take one thing at a time. They are few and far between honestly. (I just looked down at my Blackberry, Ugh!) From the moment that I turn off my ringing alarm clock, I feel like my day is a cacophony of multi-tasking. Some nights between the sizzling garlic, buzzing Blackberry, and sipping me, my boyfriend gets annoyed because I'm not paying attention, and to someone who is an exceptionally good listener, this can get tiresome.

Although, there are benefits to constant and continuous communication, there are set-backs. The most blatant of which to me is its affect on relationships. I have witnessed too many dates recently where the couple is focused more on their respective mobile devices than on each other. This is problematic enough for an existing couple, but what about those people trying to meet Mr. or Mrs. Right at the bar? First, how are you supposed to take notice of a great guy or girl through the cluttered, chaotic, mess of other individuals screaming for attention - those that aren't even present with you? And second, how are you supposed to maintain interest in the man in front of you when we live in a world where upgraded models come out every four months?

My advice, remove your personal relationships from the pace you have established at work. From 9 to 5 you will probably have to succumb to the rat race, but when you get home make the time you spend with the person or people you have relationships with about them. If you are out on a Friday evening looking for a potential relationship, mosey up to the bar, put away your Blackberry and strike up a conversation with the dreamy investment banker next to you. After a stressful day that included the market crashing 1000 points due to his firm's error, he definitely doesn't want to look at his mobile device - so take his lead. Make it about you and him.

During the same weekend I was at Notre Dame observing stressed out collegiates, I was able to spend time with some of my closest friends - The same girls that I used to have those weekend gossip sessions with. Mobile devices were put away, the board game was brought out, beer and pizza were in abundance, our significant others were present and we laughed those gut-wrenching laughs that make us the friends that we are. The best part about it was that my boyfriend got to share it with me, essentially gaining access to the real me - the me stripped of stress and contact with the office. After a month of work-induced crabbiness, it was a welcome return to us, the way we know us. It was a wake-up call to what quality living is made of - good friends, story telling, taking time to listen, food and drink, laughter.  

So this weekend and hopefully into this coming week, when you get to be one on one with someone, make it a one on one. Put down your mobile device, close your laptop, store your task list, and listen to the person next to you. I know from experience that genuine smiles and great laughs only come when you are truly present in the moment.

Now, on the other hand, if you find yourself in a very boring Webinar (that I'm not conducting of course), unleash the mighty multi-tasking powers that be. After-all you are on mute.

Lo

The Look and Feel

The communications team for my organization, my team, is charged with building, protecting and enhancing our brand. The goal is to unify a far-reaching system of Chapters and programs under one global mark, in complementary creative styling, and with a 'look and feel' that is synonymous with our mission. We encourage our system to properly consider our branding when developing creative collateral, engaging potential donors online, organizing event fundraisers, and building strategic relationships. Although, we have compiled a cache of templates, best practices, and arguments, there are still some Chapters looking to take the path less traveled - they want to experiment a little, and see if there isn't a better way to interpret the brand.

For the most part, our Chapters have embraced the unifying logo, but the whole 'look and feel' part of our branding has left room for some grass roots interpretation. Like any person, a Chapter wants a unique identity - It wants a look of its own. This is readily possible because our namesake program is a House. Each one has a different shape and size. It has different architecture, decor, landscaping, services and staffing. Each House has its own character and community-cued style, and much of the identity of the local Chapter's brand comes from this brick and mortar structure. We embrace it, and as my manager said yesterday, "it's more about the feel, anyway." Even though the House images might change throughout the World, the mission, character, and compassion of our brand remain in tact and unmistakable.

This week while building an argument for the look and feel of an organizational Facebook page, I took a detour on the popular social networking site to review some photos from last weekend. On my page, I can be seen donning a new Elie Tahari asymmetric black dress for an engagement party. This dress was the result of a recent craving to consume, and I'm not talking about the edible, rather the wearable. My craving started around Christmas when I hit the six month mark of shopping-depravation, but recently the fire was refueled due to several tax-season driven factors.

First came my very handsome tax refund, made possible by my Dad-doesn't-have-to-do-my-taxes-anymore, big-girl accountant. The craving was enhanced when the DOW hit 11,000 points and my company's stock reached $70. Though not yet an investor, it was signal enough that there was wealth to spend. Then, the Sex and the City 2 trailer hit YouTube and I proceeded to watch it about 30 times in a row. In its two minute length, there are perhaps 500 astounding costume changes, and I enviously compared the 40-something year-old characters' fresh wardrobes to my haven't gone shopping in a YEAR stale one.

So on Sunday - post Mass and Red Mango (my version of Sunday brunch) and before preparation of the dinner for two menu du jour - I gave into my craving after unsuccessfully trying to concentrate on my novel, A Reliable Wife. (I had just revealed that Catherine's rich suitor would send her to the big city of St. Louis to adjust her wardrobe for her new role in society - yep, I'm out.)

Since I didn't want to drive into the big city of Chicago, I thought the next best and more cost-efficient thing was to venture to Aurora - land of corn fields, a great Mexican restaurant and a pretty amazing outlet mall. They are not just Prime in Aurora, they are Premium. That means discount Armani, Ferragamo, Theory, Barney's, St. John, Kate Spade, Hugo Boss, and my downfall for the day, Elie Tahari.

As I approached, I realized I wasn't the only one attempting to break free from a state of consumer-withdrawal. Apparently, everyone got a tax refund this year and was trying to bring their media-driven fantasies to life. I literally had to park in said corn fields, beyond the parking lots because it was so crowded!

I meandered in and out of stores for a while - deeming some too crowded, chaotic, and cheap and others too quiet, stuffy, and expensive (yes, a $2500 suit discounted by 30% is still a $1750 suit.) Until ... I set foot in Elie Tahari - this one seemed to be just right. Great clothes, lots of 'good buys', and a moderate amount of buzz still to spark the shopping atmosphere.

"Can I help you find anything?" said the nice sales lady.

Hmmm ... I actually didn't know what I was looking for. As I shrugged her off with an "I'm just looking," I realized what I wanted. I had grown tired of my previously blogged about 'uniform' that I tend to wear to work everyday. And being told that wearing Wellies to work during the slushy season is not professional, was still fresh in a my mind. So I decided, that I was on a mission to build up my work wardrobe in order to better complement the company I work for, the role I perform, and where I want to go. In essence, this was part of my branding at this stage of my lifespan. I had to set a new tone for the look and feel of my personage.

Now, as a side note, I have been through many different looks in my twenties.

I've been both the butch and refined jock. Butch jock wore shorts in 30-degree South Bend weather, because my bulging thighs didn't fit into my pants anymore due to over-consumption of beer and Papa John's bread sticks, and one too many presses on the leg press machine. Refined jock, newly slenderized from muscle deterioration while studying abroad, wore high waisted J.Crew jeans, a rainbow of different colored cardigans, and Anne Klein loafers, while swearing off imbibing for fear of the sum of alcohol, munchies and weight lifting.

Then there was the blond party girl phase, which ended up turning into raven-haired party girl phase with a hint of stress-out, directionless, relatively miserable, over-worked restaurant manager that showed up in the dark circles under my eyes.

My transition look ensued, which combined the light and dark of previous years. It also brought bangs, which were a pretty heinous mistake. Not really sure what lay next in my life, I decided to embrace all my former looks in one.

In business school year 1 - I wore a lot of hats - enough said.

In business school year 2 - I embraced academia and was more or less a prepster - headbands, Sperry Topsiders, jumpers, button down shirts tucked into high-waisted pants.

In this business professional era of my life, I have decided that Theory and now Elie Tahari are my labels of choice. An edgy take on the tailored classics, that are muted and neutral, yet sophisticated and unique. Ahh ... just want I want to be in the working world at this stage of my career. So one friendly sales woman, led to a never-ending inventory of adorable dresses made for the day-to-night section of In Style magazine, a great time in the dressing room, and the paradox of guilty satisfaction when the same friendly sales woman swiped my Blue Cash American Express Card and wrapped my new dresses in plastic.

As I sauntered down Premium Outlet row, past others that were equally proud of their new purchases, that they believed might help enhance their persona, 2010, I was beaming. I called the boyfriend and alerted him of my great success and the fashion show that would be coming soon to a living room near him. His enthusiasm stemmed from mine - he was happy that I was happy. I have realized over the past couple years, that although he appreciates my outward appearance, it's not what makes me, Me. It's my character - that 'feel' that makes me who I am and is what my boyfriend loves. Sometimes my attempt at the well-dressed work 'look' turns to the 'feel' of a kind-of-unhappy, stress-embracing, can't-turn-it-off young business professional that my boyfriend doesn't like.

My Grandma and Grandpa used to always tell me as I was saying my goodbyes on their porch at 719 Forrest Avenue, 'Always stay as happy as you are.' I thought it was an odd comment at the time - like, why wouldn't I stay happy?! The ironic thing is though, there have been a couple times when I lost my genuine happiness, and in turn, kind of lost myself. My overly optimistic, enthusiastic, energetic and fun-loving essence is a big part of my brand. Through my many looks I should have concentrated on my 'feel' a little more - and that 'feel' is happiness. The sullen pouts, fatigue, and disinterest of the models and media is not me. As long as I have a smile on my face and laughter in my heart (and keep my look within certain parameters - i.e. don't pierce and tattoo every inch of my body, gain 100 pounds, or wear chintzy clothing) my boyfriend, family, friends, and co-workers will think I look amazing.

A smile is the best thing you can put on everyday. My organization knows this sentiment well - as long as our Chapters embrace compassion every day, they embrace the essence of our brand. The look part will come with maturity.

Little Orphan Annie said it the best ~ "You're never fully dressed without a Smile!"

Lo

Can I be Frank?

Recently, on a courageous conference call between our office and one of our Chapters, my boss made the bold move from congenial to candid, with the question, "Can I be frank?" The Chapter representative approved her query with an enthusiastic, "absolutely!" And from there, the two parties opened the floor for confrontation. They battled out the ownership, transition, and future development of an intangible asset, with each party under the conviction that the direct nature of the conversation would enable them to arrive at a more solid conclusion. They believed by being frank they would reach a comprehensive understanding of each party's true interests, the desires of the third parties involved, and next steps that are best for everyone.

After this phone call and a subsequent in-person meeting, we have reached a "better yes." We have achieved a prognosis that everyone is comfortable with and ultimately driven by. Moving forward our resolution is our credo. Today, my boss knows her role in the asset's management, the Chapter representative knows his role, and I know mine. We have all signed up, signed on, and are ready to implement.

As the note taker and lesson learner throughout these dialogues, I got a dose of how to handle the more difficult business conversation. The most important take-away was my boss' advice to develop a "Know, Do, Believe, Feel" outline: that is, to create a list of answers to the questions:

What do I want my audience to KNOW?
What do I want my audience to DO?
What do I want my audience to BELIEVE?
And how do I want my audience to FEEL?

She advised me to employ this exercise when entering any meeting, call, presentation or speech, because otherwise emotions would get the better of me, and the conversation would become counter productive and a giant waste of time.

This is a work in progress for me, as I am perhaps the most passive aggressive person that I know. In Organizational Behavior, we used a "management" term for those that are unwilling to rock the boat (namely, me). We are called self-monitoring individuals; Also know as people pleasers or brown nosers. There are strengths to these individuals: we are good at reading situations, adjusting our personalities to fit various needs, and are usually able to get what we want. However, there are major set-backs: primarily, the inability to bring people together and have candid dialogue that gets you and your team to a "better yes." No great organization has taken strides forward without frank conversations.

This week I put the "know, do, believe, feel" exercise to the test at work, and it went swimmingly well. First, for a presentation and second, for a strategy meeting. This weekend, I have decided to see how it would work in my personal life, largely driven by the inability of others to arrive at successful conclusions.

Last weekend, over pizza and beers at Piece in Wicker Park, I was witness to the most awkward expose of first-date pizza-ordering ever. As the cute young couple sat down, I saw a spark. However, this spark lost its luster when the big decision of size, style, and toppings came about 8 minutes into their date. Their first drink had just arrived, and they had obviously not been through a personal know, do, believe, feel when it came to pizza. They asked the waitress for more time to work out what they wanted to eat, and three phases of the decision-making process ensued:

1. General inquiry about what the other wanted with a lack of response - Boy thought: Meat / Girl thought: Artichokes. Boy said: I'm up for whatever. / Girl said: I am too. [Buzz - wrong!]
2. Avoidance of the decision-making process - both turn to mobile devices under the table and start rapidly texting their friends to the tune of "this date is going really bad!" [Buzz!]
3. Settlement on a large half and half pizza (meat on one side, artichokes on the other), which was about the size of a windshield and sparked frustration from the mass of people waiting their turn to sit down and eat. [Buzz - not the better yes!]

Ashamed of their inability to compromise on toppings and embarrassed by the sheer square footage of their pizza, the boy ate his meaty side and watched the basketball game; the girl ate her artichoke-ridden side and continued to text her friends while starting to scope out the other guys at the bar.

After seeing this critical decision-making process go awry, essentially spoiling a date that had the potential to go well, I thought, "there are ways around this!" There are ways to get both parties signed up and signed on for the right pizza and a good date night by using the aforementioned template. Tonight or tomorrow night, the boyfriend and I will have pizza for dinner, and because I never really voice an opinion on the pizza order, I will attempt to employ my new template to get to a better yes.

Know: "I have a love/hate relationship with Pizza. I hate it because I am scared of clogging my arteries and injecting my thighs with fat cells from the gooey cheese, greasy sauce, perfectly seasoned sausage, and airy crust; BUT I LOVE the taste and have no problem polishing off four or five pieces of pizza. Also, you should know that I used to pick off all the cheese and toppings and just eat the dough from Papa John's Pizza in high school and college; I prefer thinner crust and topping it with things like goat cheese, roasted red peppers, morels, and pesto, because this fulfills my craving for pizza without the inevitable heifer feeling; and I like the crust that I make from my artisanal bread book because it rises for 6 hours, has more air pockets in it, and is reminiscent of the focaccia-style pizza I ate every day while studying in Rome." Phew ... sigh ... See that wasn't so hard.

Do: Forsake the Chicago-style deep dish tonight and make individual pizzas with me.

Believe: Pre-pizza - She is not that crazy. Post-pizza - This tastes delicious!

Feel: Full.

So basically, the template is heavily weighted toward the KNOW part for me, but that is probably because I tend not to tell people 80% of what I am thinking. I tend to tell others what they want to hear.

In a business or personal relationship, self-monitoring only works for a set amount of time. There is an expiration date to going through life on other people's terms, because ultimately you will end up feeling unhappy, and the other person will not have the chance to grow. The goal in business and in personal relationships is to reach a resolution that enables growth for the team. To get here though, it is necessary to be a little more transparent, a little less reserved, and little more confrontational. Go ahead, be frank, but do it with a plan. In my life, I believe a new commitment to being candid and prepared, will benefit my projects at work and leisure activities at home. Tonight, I believe it will bring a more rewarding pizza-consuming experience! AND if you are on a first date and need time to transition from self-monitoring to persuasive persona, don't choose a pizza joint. Go for a restaurant where individual orders are the specialty.

Mangiamo!

Lo

Le Reve

About mid-summer, post Calvary Camp, pre-family vacation, and right about when my world-traveling friends would start jetting-setting to Latin America, the Far East, and Europe, I would find myself in a familiar scenario: My brother would be playing in the street with other neighborhood boys (one of which was my grades 6 through 8, blond haired, blue-eyed crush); my sister would be at smart camp, and I would be in and around the house using my imagination to the max. To be fair, my elderly babysitter, Edy would occasionally wake up from her cookie-induced coma to provide companionship and play a couple rounds of 500 Rummy with me, but mostly the middle of my middle school summers were spent with me, myself and my vivid and dramatic imagination.

One of the routine acts within my portfolio of solitary imaginary dramas, was a walk alone in the park with my imaginary boyfriend (AKA my next-door neighbor crush.) I would walk from my House into the grounds of the Mellon estate where there were lush, romantic gardens and create dialogues and blocking for the relationship of my dreams – One that involved smelling the roses in the tiered garden and chasing each other through trellises. To put this odd vision into perspective, I believe I had consumed one too many accounts of the Secret Garden growing up, and was most influenced at the time by the musical version.

I had fun in what I like to call la-la land, and I believe that nurturing my imagination from a young age has made me more creative today. However, I look back and wonder what would have happened if I was a confident, much less awkward seventh grader. Would I have been able to go outside, take part in the boys-only street hockey game, and nab my crush? I might even have had the summer fling and first kiss a la Sandra Dee that I had always dreamed of. I also wonder though, if any middle or high school crush would have fulfilled my Mayberryesque imagination.

In past entries, I have pointed out some of the benefits of going it alone in this day and age, especially when venturing out on the town. I have witnessed the ease, with which one can form an introduction, conversation, and relationship when not surrounded by an intimidating pack of female clones. For one, my relationship is a product of an introduction made while I was sitting alone at a bar.

I just got back from Las Vegas - essentially a fantasy land for adults. I spent eight nights there, the first half of which were spent alone. In this solitary set-up I had ample time to test my theory of going out alone and evaluate if it is well worth a woman's time. Though I thought my theory was full-proof, I noticed something not too distant from the bizarre solo jaunts of my youth. In this city of reverie, where everyone's imagination is going wild, I found it near impossible to create a real and lasting connection with anyone that I had just met.

Night 1: Sage, The Aria
This was my first experiment in going out alone, confident, and well-dressed on the strip. I had decided that I would go to the newest of Vegas' offerings and the 2nd highest rated restaurant opening of the year. I had grand visions of this night out. I imagined moseying up to the bar, resting my pink clutch on the table, removing my black and white checked cloak, and ordering a martini. Two minutes later, George Clooney or someone of his ilk would ask if the seat next to me was taken, we would hit it off, I would tell him about the wonderful work of my Charity. He would immediately express that he wanted to be our premier celebrity friend - he wanted to do events, PSAs, and media releases to spread the word of our unique programs and services. I would come home triumphantly as the girl who snagged THE celebrity-friend relationship of the century.

Instead, the reality was bleak. An odd, creepy couple from Colorado abruptly sat right next to me within the virtually empty bar. They asked what I did, realized a connection, and asked if I could assist in their pursuit to be the sole supplier of billboard ads for McDonald's Brazil. Not the work relationship I was looking for.

Night 2: Craft Steak, MGM Grand
Refreshed, renewed and revved up after being Googlized on the second day of my seminar, I decided to try to form a different set of relationships on the second evening out. I was about to go to the man cave - one of THE steak houses in Vegas, and I was going to conquer and convert the high rolling men into ultimate donors. I was going to insert my business persona into their golf club-swinging, cigar smoking, ribeye consuming conversations. I was going to be the it-girl in a sea of men ... and yet again, reality struck. I was sitting alone focused on consuming the most amazing piece of salmon, in a sea of tech geeks who had absolutely no interest in my presence. My friends for the night - the water boy and my blackberry.

Night 3: Tao, The Venetian
At this point, I was just looking for a friend. I stopped by Restaurant Charlie first to say hi to two old friends from my restaurant management days, and then with a craving for sushi and a familiar atmosphere, I set my sights on TAO. I had been there three times in the past, late at night, with some of my best friends. I sat at the bar, ordered some maki and imagined that suddenly they appeared behind me, we opened the rope to the upstairs club, and we partied all night long. Obviously, it never happened. Rather, I was greeted by a friendly ex-actor from Holland and had a decent conversation about my blog of all things. He was amazed that I had the confidence and courage to go out alone in Vegas. I was amazed that the only valid connection I made on these three days, was with a guy who used to make a living off of dramatic scenarios and role-playing.

Night 4: Wing Lei, The Wynn
Night four was supposed to be in line with nights one through three, but I got tired of my imagination not meeting the reality I encountered. So I called one of the most fun people that I know, Cinderella. Yes, I have a friend who used to be the premier princess at Disney World. And we had a good time dining and dancing in one of the most fantastic spots in town - the Wynn.

Night 5: Red Square and Foundation Room, Mandalay Bay and Il Fornaio, New York, New York
On night five, my single streak came to an end with the best reality of all - my boyfriend. He brought me back down to earth and reinstated my big smile and belly laugh. There he was: my real-life blond-haired, blue eyed crush. Better than any imaginary iteration through my school days. There were whimsical moments of course- Champagne toasts at the Bellagio overlooking the illuminated fountain show, vodka toasts in the vodka vault of Red Square, martini toasts at the members-only Fountain Room on the tip-top of Mandalay Bay, and a roller coaster ride over the strip in my gold Missoni dress. The dips, loops, and giggles were the perfect way to jolt my imaginary wanderings back to my wonderful reality.

I think I will forever be a bit dramatic, and I think my imagination will always run wild. However, more and more I realize that the reality I have every day doesn't need embellishment - it's amazing. When you go out whether solo or en masse, meet a guy for the first time, or find yourself in a serious relationship, make sure that you are capturing the essence and reality of the present. Have a fantastic Friday!

Lo

Performance Review

Tis the season of judgement. From figure skating and ski jumping at the Winter Olympics; to cut-throat and controversial Oscar campaigns; to performance reviews and bonus sign-offs at work - It's one of those times of the year, when we are especially critical and there is a line drawn between the winners and losers.

After nine months on the job, it's time to have the official one-on-one review with my boss. In preparation for this looming meeting I had to self-assess first, which was far more than listing past accomplishments and future goals on a piece of paper. Rather, it was a process that involved collecting and sorting evidence of the physical and psychological; tangible and intangible; work and work ethic. To provide the argument for my productivity, I asked colleagues to provide candid remarks about their working relationship with me, I sifted through my in-box, file folders, calendar, and scorecards to create complete lists of projects, and I strategically massaged the messaging about my work to tell an even better story.

Next I had to assess and convey my more touchy, feely strengths. I had to think of shining examples when I demonstrated leadership capabilities, team building and playing skills, openness to discovery and innovation, pursuit of excellence, and ethics.

I arrived at an honest and thorough self-judgment and presented my scoring and commentary to my boss to review. On Friday of this week, we will have a conversation about the scores to discuss whether or not she agreed, signed off, and compensated me based on these numbers. There is always the chance that she will not view my triumphs with the same clarity or excitement, that I wasn't reading the signs throughout the past nine months, and I will be fired on the spot. Maybe we are better friends, and less compatible in a working relationship. If this is the case, do I get referred to another friend, or kicked out of the inner circle completely? Because I am an over-analyzer this conversation will inevitably be uncomfortable, scary and awkward.

Last week I had a teaser of this meeting when I had the opportunity to sit next to my boss on the plane for 2.3 hours en route to Austin. To gain a better understanding of how she looked at performance reviews and issues, I told her about my upcoming blog entry and asked for her input. I wondered how she felt about judgments, assessments of strengths and weaknesses, and whether or not certain weaknesses were deal breakers. She made a very interesting comment: “There will always be those people that perpetually score 2s on certain sections and that's okay. These people fit in the grander organization. They may always score low on 'change leader' or 'innovator,' but their team building skills are exceptional."

This weekend, when describing her team at work, my sister-in-law put it in the vernacular. She said, "We need a good cop and a bad cop; the ying and the yang." So maybe a weakness or score of 2 here and there, aren't that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things. Great teams are created when individuals with complementing strengths come together and are able to find a rhythm in the way they work.

Inevitably, this got me thinking about relationships whether freshly minted or 25 years in the making. Do you need periodic or even regularly scheduled performance reviews to make relationships work better and to let each other know where they stand? After all, this is one of the most important teams you invest in. Are such reviews for some couples and not others? Do they remove the romance, spontaneity, and secret challenge we give our significant others to know exactly what it is we want, when we want it? Or, perhaps do they ultimately boost the allure and mutual compatibility - opening the lines for candid communication and more comfortable subsequent dialogue? As I mark the 2.5-year mark with my boyfriend, I wonder if we are a couple that needs an official performance review?

Though necessary and effective in the professional setting, after witnessing two more personal examples I believe when dating, there's no need for scrutiny and intense assessments. If you get to that point, the relationship has lost its vital signs and you are probably doomed.

Experience one: I watched the movie 500 Days of Summer last night, which is a testament of how looking for cues in a relationship could save a lot of time and heartache. There were glaring signs that this relationship should be dissolved, even though the male lead was smitten, love-struck, and inspired by his muse. They didn't need an official review, because her body language became a scoring system of her own: Her carefree laughs turned to tears, her bright smiles turned to smirks, and her level of excitement turned to fatigue. At the end when explaining why she was able to marry someone ... but not him, she says, "I just knew ... and I never had that feeling with you." That's it. It's a feeling you either have right off the bat or come to know within a relatively short period of time. And when this feeling isn't mutual, you won't see the relationship mature, expand, and enlighten over the months and years.

Experience two: A friend sent me a score sheet of sorts that she had recently used when assessing the level of compatibility in her relationship. After presenting the list to her boyfriend, talking through the various parts, and disagreeing on many of the key items, their relationship was ... ding, ding, ding ... deemed incompatible and dissolved. It was a tough period of time following the break up, but she believes they are both in better places as a result. My questions though: How could you not know that you weren't on the same page in the two years leading up to this conversation? Were there not signs present? Did you not have the deeper dialogues in between play time? My belief is if you get to an official assessment in your relationship, it most likely isn't going to last.

I don't need a scoring system to let me know that my relationship or team is performing well or at its optimum. The confirmation is in the genuine laughter, the open conversations when I'm allowed to ask the ridiculous and still get an honest response, the excitement to see each other every day, the quality products we create together, and the growth we've enabled in each other. If these qualities weren't there, it would be obvious that the relationship wasn't going to make it.

So, when making your judgments about your relationship I would recommend looking at the following:

1. Do you smile and laugh 95% of the time, and when you cry does the other person make you feel all-the-way better?

2. Do you like spending more time with your significant other than alone or with friends?

3. Is the sum of your team, much better than the individual parts? Are you happier, healthier, kinder, wiser and perhaps even a better cook with that person by your side? And has that person told you that you bring out the best in him or her as well?

4. Do all the annoying weakness that you used to notice when dating - like creepy back grabs, odd balding patterns, weird hands, bad sense of humor, inability to dance, self consciousness, lack of athletic ability, stupidity - become irrelevant with this person?

5. Do you look at this person and say he or she is the one and really know it.

In a good relationship and on a good team, you just know when it's right and when it's working well. When performance issues arise, then yes, maybe it's time for that assessment. But most likely the complementary nature of your weaknesses with his or her strengths and vice versa is fleeting if you arrive at an official performance review.

Open to success stories though ...

Lo

Impress, Attract, Convert

One of my core responsibilities at work is to be the “voice” of my company online. I am charged with the provision of a compassionate, friendly, unique, and engaging tone in cyberspace. So, I tweet, post, respond, and manage web-content to educate the public at large. Each day, I send messages through various channels to a loyal group of followers, fans, and friends, who in theory act as brand ambassadors, magnify our messages by repeating what we say to their networks, and ultimately give us their money. My success is measured by impressions, click-thru rates, and the be-all-and-end-all, conversion rates.

Throughout the eight months I have been on the job, my team has seen vast improvements in impressions and click-thru rates. However, the conversion rate statistic is a little harder to rev up. There are slow, incremental improvements, but on the whole we have not cracked the code to securing significant developments on this metric. Basically, we are collecting more and more interested parties, and some of them have latched on, but the majority have turned us down.

Because I am always thinking about parallels between what I do at work and my personal life, I couldn't help but notice how some of our marketing strategies mirror the complications, trials, and victories in the game of dating. In my opinion, I believe finding that inevitable other doesn't always come down to happenstance or fate. Rather, I think there are some business premises that enhance one's chance of making that ultimate conversion from interested party to purchaser.

This past weekend I traveled to my hometown of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, to attend a bridal shower and bachelorette party. This was a set of events hosted and attended by my closest high school friends, who are perhaps the best looking group of girls on the planet. Every time we get together, it is like walking onto the set of Sex and the City season 2. They are dressed in the latest looks from Alice and Olivia, TIBI, Theory, Rebecca Taylor, and Dionne Von Furstenberg, with high-end accessories from the likes of Ferragamo, Prada, Gucci, and Louis Vuitton. Everyone’s hair and make-up is understated, yet perfect. They are all naturally slim, out-going, well-spoken and supremely confident.

I had to think diligently about which party dress to pull from my costume closet as I packed last Friday, so I would be prepared to enter a Saturday luncheon where I was explicitly told “not to wear jeans!” (I must say I made a very good choice, due to the large number of compliments.) I accentuated the chic dress and the tone of the afternoon with the accessorizing labels of Tory Burch, Cole-Hahn, Movado, and Chanel.

In a room filled with with friends and family members that had already pledged their allegiances to each of us, there wasn’t much selling to do. However, in the evening, when seven girls set out on the town for the bachelorette party, there was a need for differentiation and tasteful promotion to set each of us apart from the next. But how does this happen? How do seven girls with incredible genes, equal access to fantastic wardrobes, and the impeccable ability to blow-dry, apply, and style attract the coveted customer; the one that will last a lifetime?

After studying and practicing marketing and communications principles in school and on the job, I have learned that there are four basic things that any brand can manipulate and massage to make their goods and services more appealing to the consumer. One of those things is promotion. Promotion is all about attracting a buyer and increasing sales through various strategies. In the marketing world these are things like coupons, PR activities, competitions, displays, advertising campaigns, and loyalty incentive programs. For the individual, promotional activities include knowing what's best about you and finding ways to get the message out. Self-promotion is about telling your story visually, verbally, and emotively in a different way from your competitors. For the single girl looking to stand out among a bevy of beauties, there are key learnings from a successful campaign's promotional activities, that can enhance how she steps out on the town.

First, play up your most unique and amazing asset, and do it in an original way. Though women are made up of the same basic parts, there are some parts that look best on you, and other parts that look better on someone else. In MBA school, we talked a lot about "sustainable competitive advantage." Every successful company has achieved excellence through a lasting differentiating factor that they then promote to their consumers. It's the company with a focus and an investment in that focus that makes an impression. It's the company that tries to be everything to everyone that fails. Instead of following the trending topic, wearing a common look, over applying or enhancing; Try picking one part of yourself that you are proud of - make a splash with it, and then dim the less interesting parts. Along with this, try playing up your chosen asset in a unique way. For instance, if you've got a great neckline and shoulders, own the off the shoulder look. Make this a standard look that people will always associate with you. YOU are the girl with the elegant shoulders and neckline. This comment may be more or less latent to a guy, but your consistent, confident look comes with a certain feeling and memory attached to it.

Second, find and know your brand essence. As I mentioned, on the outside, we are basically equipped with a set of parts that make us blend together. Though we may have great red hair that makes us stand out in a sea of blonds, there is something else that guys can pick up on a mile away. That is our confidence, which is made up of our internal values, talents, character, and pride in all of these. This is our brand essence and it should be brought to the forefront on all occasions. If you don't know or can't find an underlying, personal essence to your outward appearance, you will just blend in among the competition. Stand up straight, SMILE, laugh heartily, be genuine, gesticulate, and love the moment you are experiencing. Everyone wants to be part of the good time - that good time should be you.

Just like a fast food hamburger restaurant, we all have the same tools to make us the better burger joint. The restaurant can dress up the burger with lettuce, pickles, onions and special sauce, but if it doesn’t associate that amazing look and taste with something bigger and more emotive, than the consumer is not going to become attached to that product. As women, we have the same access at all price-points to make-up, clothes (and generally speaking guys can’t tell the difference between the cheap and expensive stuff), diets, and hair-care techniques. We all have the ability to look great, but if your potential consumer can't see something more than a cliche, he will lose interest.

Third and finally, you can't just shout your message to a captive audience. Today, a guy's attention span is shorter than ever, and in order to captivate, you have to engage in a dialogue - to be a good promoter, you have to be a good listener. You have to know what the consumer wants, then hone your messaging to his cues. The reason that marketers have gone on-line and have started to speak to consumers on their agenda, and in their time and space, is because shouting through a box to uninterested viewers no longer works. People want to know that companies care about their individuality. They want brands to interact with them and communicate directly to them. When you enter a bar, a party, or even the grocery store, there is always an opportunity to tell your story and promote yourself, but most times it helps to know your target audience's story first.

There are so many other aspects of promotion to touch on, but these are biggies. And, there's more where this came from. In the meantime, this is a start to help you improve your conversion rate. The key take-away: Focus on strategic self-promotion when you play the dating game - strive for quality impressions, achieve higher click-thru rates, and aim for the conversion of a browser into a purchaser.

Lo

Dressed and Ready

When I was playing lacrosse at Notre Dame my coach, Tracy, told the team to be "dressed and ready to go" about three hours before the opening draw of the game. Dressed and ready meant uniform on, pump-up music off, eyes on and ears open to our all-wise and powerful head coach. "Dressed and ready" took me and my teammates out of our roles as students and into our realm as star athletes, where our following of loyal fans, which was entirely comprised of family relations, really good friends, and an odd assortment of townies and professors who adopted a cult following of women's lacrosse, would cheer us on by name and number.

My transition from student to athlete started as I stripped out of my typical art-historian wardrobe of J.Crew high waisted jeans, white t-shirt, cardigan sweater, Ann Klein loafers, and Vera Bradley tote. (Yes, I have always dressed like a 45-year-old mother-of-four.) In the locker room, and set to the rhythms and lyrics of my team's favorite rappers, I started to shed my somewhat dorky, snooty, and perceived mature persona into a rendering of a tough, brusque, and hot lacrosse player. As I misquoted Big Poppa, I would pull on my under-layer of spandex and sports-bras; and as I awkwardly bobbed to Snoop Dogg, I delved into my the outer-layer made up of my #7 jersey, gold kilt, cleats, and a sweat band that I strategically positioned under my bicep to make my arms look more defined. My long strait hair was swept into a ponytail that I would clasp again at the bottom so it would swing together as I ran down the field. Next, I would go to the mirror to complete my look - adding the finishing touch - I crowned myself with a striped head band, given to me by my brother with the explicit directions to be more gangster. Now I was officially "dressed and ready to go."

My art history, literature, Italian, and acting teachers never would have suspected that #7 was the same girl that raised her hand enthusiastically in the front row of their classes. My lacrosse garb enabled me to be something that I never thought imaginable - the first home and one of the leading scorers for the number-two team in division 1 varsity lacrosse.

Today I woke up and got dressed and ready for work. This is a much less interesting process, but one that I take with the same amount of seriousness that I applied to my lacrosse game preparations. It starts by shedding layers of Under Armour and revitalizing my raw body in the tepid water of my shower. I then lather up in lotion to reduce my over-active static electricity problem, apply make-up in a methodical way, and then open my closet to assemble an outfit for work. Everyday it is basically the same (I actually wonder if my co-workers think that I don't wash my clothes.) I choose a set from a collection of strategically purchased and well-tailored black and gray pants, camisoles, sweaters, and boots.

If you've ever seen one of those movies where the main character opens up his or her closet and everything looks exactly the same, that is me. I have invested in buying not just one of two of what I like, but a whole closet of clothes that I love and inherently look exactly the same. It is because I feel comfortable and confident in the work-day uniform that I have pulled together. I feel that this ensemble perfectly promotes my persona at work - It says sound, smart, sophisticated, savvy, success-driven, with an undertone of sass.

As a side note, my weekend look comes from my other closet - my fun closet. It is where my boxes of expensive shoes, gold-lame gloves, fedora hats, scarves, small and large handbags, and a myriad of flouncy, colorful dresses live. This is my costume closet, where I play and promote the creative side of myself on the weekends.

After I blow dry my hair, I glance in the mirror one last time, apply another round of lip-gloss, smack my lips together, and say, alright dominant QSR, here I come! I finish my work-mode prep by tuning into the liberal banter of NPR morning news during my commute. This is my new version of pump-up music for the corporate games I am about to play. It prepares me to combat politics, contribute to technological conversations, and quote stock market predictions with ease.

My rituals of preparation to compete on the lacrosse field and those to compete in corporate America are quite different, but the underlying concept is still there. If I would have come out to play unfocused, tired, or scared, me and my team would have had to play a lot of catch up in the second half, which always made Tracy mad. In corporate America, my pursuits are much the same; to outsmart, outplay, out-hustle, and ultimately knock off the competition with a group of contributors fighting for the same cause. I have to be ready to go the moment I walk off the elevator each day, because if I'm not, I might end up back on the bench.

The point here:

Get pumped-up and psyched for what you are about to do today. If you are not dressed and ready to go, you might be making up some tough ground later in the day, or later in life.

Sustain that feeling throughout the day, even when it comes down to the homestretch - those last five minutes could be the game breaker.

When you have victories along the way, celebrate them with your teammates. (Cristine, watch out! I might even give you a shimmy shake, which is the lacrosse version of a chest bump, when we nail our next benchmark.)

When you've won ten games in a row, don't let up. You still have the rest of your season ahead when some young unassuming team can catch you off guard.

And I'm not thinking about the end of the game right now - I just made it off the bench, earned a starting position, and am taking steps to be a key contributor.


Lo.