Making work workable

The New York Times has a report on widespread worker discontent in America. According to a Gallup study, 70% of full-time workers either hate their jobs or have checked out completely.

The surprise is that it’s bosses who make the difference:

Gallup has found that
managers who focus on their
employees’ strengths can
practically eliminate active
disengagement and double the
average of U.S. workers who are
engaged nationwide.

Motivation and engagement in any relationship can come from focusing on people’s strengths and helping them to grow and develop, whether those people are formally in a subordinate role or not. It’s also incredibly satisfying to engage with people that way. And if you are part of the 70%, you might want to consider engaging your manager by focusing on his or her strengths.

After all, your manager might also be in the 70% percent. Your manager might dread going to work each day to face a bunch of unhappy employees. A little authentic communication between human beings could work wonders. It’s risky, but it just might be worth it.

Writing a manifesto and other ways of figuring out who you are

Lifehacker has a great article on choosing your direction in life. They offer four tips:

  1. Think about where you’ll be in five years.
  2. Write your personal manifesto.
  3. Volunteer or shadow someone in a job you’re interested in.
  4. Dig into those side projects.
These are great ideas, and the one that stand out to me is number 2. It’s the one I’ve heard least, and it just might be the most powerful.
I’ve never written a manifesto, but I’ve done a couple of related exercises: declaring myself as a possibility, and writing a personal brand statement.
A while back, in a Landmark Education course, I declared myself as the possibility of intimacy and adventure. Without getting into the tortured syntax, we can see that finding a juicy, resonant concept as your guiding principle can certainly help you to make choices in the real world. When I found that grad school was starting to overwhelm me, for instance, I realized that I needed to add in more intimacy and adventure: I made plans to study in Korea, started asking classmates to dinner, connected with others as language partners, and ultimately ended up dating a Chinese woman who will go with me to Beijing this summer. Intimacy and adventure indeed!
Personal branding is something I teach at Google. Each time I teach the course, we go through the exercise of writing a personal brand statement, and I refine mine. Simpler and shorter than a manifesto, a brand statement can be a path to understanding what’s important to you — again, a guide to real-world choices. In my case, I found that I want my brand to be someone who’s a guide, mentor and teacher. That’s why this blog exists for you to read. 
However you do it, figuring out what matters to you — and then checking again often, and refining — can help you choose what to do from moment to moment. 
Or, as Dolly Parton once put it, “Figure out what you’re doing, and do it on purpose.”

Hitting the wall

We all hit a wall sometimes.

This week I traveled to the Google Boston office to teach a course called Managing Your Energy, developed by The Energy Project. It’s a full-day course that delves into some deep areas, and by the end of the day, I was exhausted.

Totally drained, I could feel a wave of despair creeping up on me. Rather than try to run away from that feeling or shut it down, I decided, in that moment, to embrace it and care for it.

I had a long train ride ahead. I put on my headphones and listened to Paul Simon — really listened, letting the heartbreaking lyrics touch me — and I let my mind wander where it wanted to go: to lost loves, to sorrow for friends who have suffered unspeakable abuse at the hands of a brutal government, to sadness about getting older and seeing my parents get older.

There are times when we can, and probably should, let ourselves go this way. When despair takes over your life, it’s a disaster. When it takes over your late afternoon on a train ride, it can be a kind of melancholy sweetness.

Science-based life advice

A pair of sociologists have come up with science-based advice for grads. It’s a powerful antidote to the usual “follow your dreams” stuff. For example:

College graduates are often told: “follow your passion,” do “what you love,” what you were “meant to do,” or “make your dreams come true.” Two-thirds think they’re going find a job that allows them to change the world, half within five years. Yikes. 

This sets young people up to fail. The truth is that the vast majority of us will not be employed in a job that is both our lifelong passion and a world-changer; that’s just not the way our global economy is.

I would add that the pressure even to know what you love, what your passions are, or what your dreams are when you’re graduating from college is mistaken. When I graduated with a degree in creative writing, I assumed that I ought to want to be in publishing, which it turns out is like loving food and thus deciding to work in an abattoir. It was only through a series of odd decisions and happenstance — deciding on a whim to go off to India instead of figuring out my career, coming back from India just as the dot-com boom was taking off, following a girlfriend to Korea to teach English for a year — that I gradually came to know what I love and care about.  

The keys seem to be flexibility, friendship, and listening, rather than a relentless focus on any particular goal, such as children, a house, or changing the world. (Via BoingBoing.)

Positive, not polyanna

Can you stay positive without being naive?

Business Insider has a set of charts meant to restore your faith in humanity. A lot of the data is US-focused, and there are points where you can find clouds in the silver linings. But overall the data BI highlights is credible evidence of things getting better for lots of people.

We all know there are awful things in the world. There is too much suffering, too much cruelty, too much sorrow.

But naivete cuts both ways. Focusing on the negative and staying blind to the positive is just as naive as doing the opposite. Only by noticing where — and how — things are getting better can we apply the lessons and do our part.

Letting desire flow

A new study (picked up by BoingBoing) makes the case that BDSM practitioners are actually better adjusted psychologically than the population at large. The reasons given are speculative, but the researcher argues that “BDSM play requires the explicit consent of the players regarding the type of actions to be performed, their duration and intensity, and therefore involves careful scrutiny and communication of one’s own sexual desires and needs.”

It’s one study, and these studies should always be taken with a grain of salt. Still, what stands out here is that there’s some scientific evidence that exploring desire — in thought and in action — can lead to greater happiness.

We often look at desire as something to move beyond. Shouldn’t we be helping society or focusing on our families or working harder? Isn’t craving the source of our suffering, as the Buddhists might say?

Mark Epstein, a psychologist and Buddhist writer, argues in his book Open to Desire that we can’t simply turn off desire. Desire is part of who we are, and exploring our deep and sometimes frightening desires can be a path to self-knowledge.

In so many other contexts, we’re ready to encourage the intimacy of close communication and the adventure of pushing our own limits, even to the point of intense physical pain. Skydiving? Sure! Running a marathon? Hey, awesome! Taking a long weekend to spend some time with your partner? Sounds wonderful!

If we step back from the cultural shaming and pathologizing, is BDSM really any different? It’s likely to hurt less than running a marathon (and is actually kind of less likely to make your nipples bleed), it’s not nearly as risky as backpacking across Latin America, and it will probably create more intimacy and openness in a relationship than going to see The Great Gatsby together (a different opportunity to hang out together in a dark room while wearing ridiculous outfits).

The main point is to stay open to who you really are and what you really desire. If there’s something inside your own mind that scares you, instead of shutting it away, you might want to try walking toward it and making friends.

Update: While we’re on the topic …

Self-promotion for Asian-Americans

To have a personal brand, and to market it, is a key to getting ahead. But what if your East Asian sense of propriety tells you to be humble and avoid self-promotion?

At Google I teach a course on personal branding, in which we explore our strengths and values, create a personal brand statement that sums them up, and come up with strategies for managing our personal brands. (As an example, I’m a writer, trainer and communicator who’s especially good at bridging culture gaps — East to West, engineering to ordinary human — and making complex, challenging information easy to understand and use.)

 In a recent class, an Asian-American student raised his hand. “What if some of us were raised to never put ourselves forward or brag about ourselves like this?” he asked.

I knew exactly what he meant. In America, our culture is individualist. We reward and respect unique characters, from Ben Franklin to Lady Gaga. We say that the squeaky wheel gets the grease: make some noise if you want to get taken care of.

In East Asia, they say that the tallest flower gets cut: keep your head down, don’t draw undue attention. If you look at the K-pop phenomenon, you’ll notice that the biggest stars are groups, sometimes enormous, and that the members, not to mention the groups themselves, seem pretty interchangeable. That’s not a mistake. In East Asian society, it can be easier to put yourself forward if you do it as a group rather than an individual, and it’s easier to understand someone’s actions and attitudes if you can make sense of her role within a standardized group dynamic, whether that’s teacher-student, boss-employee, or even being the cute one or the tomboy in a pop group.

So if you’ve been raised with an East Asian sense of humility, how can personal branding work for you? How can you be true to yourself — something that’s necessary if your brand is going to be authentic — while still promoting yourself effectively? 

Instead of seeing personal branding as self-promotion, you can think of it as the best way to be a team player. Marketing your brand is simply letting your managers and colleagues know what you have to offer — information they need to make the best decisions for the organization overall.

For example, if your manager has a tough, unpleasant task, and he asks for volunteers, would you raise your hand? If your answer is yes, then you can think of promoting your personal brand as raising your hand before your manager asks. The people you work with need to know what you’re best at, and even what you like doing most, so that they can assign you the right tasks.

Think of yourself as a player on a soccer team. If you’re very fast, or you have great stamina, or you’re really accurate with free kicks, that’s something the coach and your teammates need to know. Keeping it to yourself is actually the more selfish approach.

 So hopefully by now you can see how marketing yourself is actually helping those you work with. The tricky part might be finding a way to do it that feels authentic. Are there ways that you can promote your skills through action, while ensuring that the right people see what you’re up to? Can you find brand champions — colleagues or others who will speak up for you?

Just remember that part of your responsibility as a member of a community is to let that community know how you can contribute. Self-promotion is actually a tool for strengthening your social connections and your team as a whole. There doesn’t have to be a conflict between promoting yourself and being a team player.

New beginnings

Life is full of new beginnings. This is one of them. As a professional development trainer at Google, a graduate student, and a human being living in the world, I am constantly on the lookout for wisdom and insights that I can use and pass on to others. I’ve been fortunate enough to find quite a bit of wisdom out there, and I’ve created this blog as a place to share it. I hope it’s the start of an interesting journey.

[things i’d like to write about but haven’t]

  • My trip to Budapest and Vienna.
  • My trip to Ann Arbor. And Ypsilanti.
  • All the churches in Brooklyn Heights: visit each, learn about it, attend a service, blog it.
  • My life as a Korean dancer.
  • My theory of Tom Tom Club vs. David Byrne.
  • My trip to Ghana.
  • Being sick abroad.
  • Toilets of the world (this one’s more of a photo essay).
  • My trip to Mexico. (Noting a theme?)
  • My trip to Paris.
  • An open letter to the mayor demanding seasonal weather changes. (This will be funnier when actually written, I hope.)

[drop the red lantern]

I have just seen Raise the Red Lantern, Zhang Yimou’s claustrophobic 1991 film about a woman who becomes “Mistress Four” in a wealthy Chinese household sometime in the early twentieth century. The film received a great many awards and is widely considered a classic. I hated it.

Though it presents as a chick flick, centered on female characters and chock full of fancy costumes, it’s a decidedly misogynistic movie. The plot is driven by the wives’ (and a servant girls’) struggle for the attentions of the Master in a ritualized environment where every coupling is formally announced to everyone else through elaborate ritual. To make this plot work, it’s crucial that the women have about the same level of characterization you get in a high-end porno: Third Mistress was an opera singer, Fourth Mistress is a college girl who’s father was in the tea trade, and so on. As in a pornographic film, the outside world is excluded; everything takes place within the household. Clearly that’s an artistic choice meant to heighten the claustrophobia, but the story itself acknowledges that the women leave the house, sometimes unaccompanied: the Master offers at one point to take Songlian out for dumplings at a place she likes, and Third Mistress manages to get caught in a hotel having an affair with the family doctor.

And that’s what gives the lie to the whole thing. At the end, Songlian is driven mad by her helplessness in the face of the servants’ murder of Third Mistress for her affair. She paces the courtyard, alone and disheveled. There is, first of all, sheer laziness in that. Declaring your lady character insane is much easier than imagining how she might live with her trauma, and also totally unrealistic. And there, again, is the misogyny: depicting women as fragile, with minds that snap all too easily.

And it also goes against the facts we know. We know that Songlian connives. We know that she’s unhappy. We know that people come and go from the house. Why does she stay, permitted to pace about the place? Alas, we know too little of that outside world to imagine what she might fear in it. Everything is inward-focused, to the exclusion of reality itself.

OK, so is this some kind of complicated metaphor for life under Mao? Is the hothouse craving for the Master’s attention, and the infighting, and the murderousness of the servants, all some kind of allegory about the Communist Party? I don’t think it is, or if it is, it’s just not good enough.

Raise the Red Lantern is, in the end, a stylized costume drama. And it is, admittedly, haunting and compelling in some of its imagery. But it’s an overbearing film that dehumanizes its characters to no particular end.

Also, it’s boring.