Tag Archives: job

Curry Favor

Curry favor: (v) to seek to advance oneself

“All you have to do…”

I do believe I’ve heard them all.

I’m talking about those suggestions given by well-meaning souls to help place you in a position where you will be able to curry favor and …

  • Get the job.
  • Date the girl.
  • Secure the prize.
  • Win the position.
  • Or just garner an invitation.

I will be honest and tell you that I have followed much of that advice from time to time, having no reason to reject it.

I wanted to be “inside” something that presently was forbidden to me.

If I needed to use flattery or even a certain amount of deception, I was up to the challenge.

You know what I discovered?

I didn’t curry favor—I curried acceptance.

The favor was much more difficult to get.

But to simply be included—get a number, let in the door or granted a meeting—does allow the philosophy of “all you have to do” to pay off.

But if your intention is to make an impact, leave a lasting impression, advance a theory or establish yourself within the framework, then all the suggestions given to you to gain acceptance will falter.

For they never grant you the focus you need to be successful.

Weak people want to hear how good they are.

Strong people want to learn how to overcome their weakness, which they will often hide.

If you want to curry favor, you must:

  1. Help.

An obvious action of offering something that brings improvement.

  1. Give.

Take something of yourself and present it to assist a cause without trying to barter a deal.

  1. Listen.

Before you assume you know what to do, give ear to the sounds in the room so you can alter the negative and introduce the positive.

  1. Stop pushing. Carry.

Don’t try to promote yourself. Instead, carry some of the burden and make yourself immediately valuable to those who are weary.

We often have a mistaken idea that being nice or tough will get us in the door.

What actually opens the door is being kind and persistent.

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Criminal

Criminal: (n) a person guilty or convicted of a crime

If my recollection holds any accuracy of memory, I believe it happened right after my twenty-eighth birthday. I was in a room with a bunch of friends—and some strangers—and a question was posed.

“What was your first job?”

Well, I let three or four people go before me so that I could understand if I was on point, what the question really meant and the best way to answer it.

After the fourth teller finished his story about being a bag boy at a grocery store, I raised my hand and explained, “The summer between my junior and senior year, I joined some sort of national work program for teenagers sponsored by the government, which offered opportunities for local jobs at minimum wage. After volunteering, I discovered that the possibility afforded to me was working at the cemetery, cutting the grass and taking care of the gravestones.

“I was torn between being grossed out and wondering whether anything could be any more boring. But the only other thing available was with a farmer, bailing hay. I did not like hay. I didn’t like heat. I didn’t favor sweating and knew the farmer would be there the whole time, and I’d have to really work hard. I thought that the keeper of the graves might actually trust me to do the job without peeking over my shoulder.”

“I was right. Matter of fact, after about four or five days, I discovered he never showed up to confirm my work. So I started coming to the graveyard, signing in, and then leaving. I was able to continue this practice for about two weeks, collecting my check—until I finally got caught.”

At this point I stopped speaking, thinking I was going to get some laughter and maybe even a round of applause for my tale. But instead, a young woman sitting across the room gasped and said:

“Geez…that was criminal.”

Looking into all the faces around me, I waited for someone to speak up and offer at least some support for my ingenuity.

No one did.

I was angry.

Although I did not stomp out of the room, I made my exit from the party as quickly as possible without drawing attention to my frustration.

I fumed. How dare anyone accuse me of being a criminal? I knew what a criminal was. It’s someone who commits crimes, right? An individual who breaks the law and is tracked down by the police and thrown in jail, to stay there until they learn their lesson or complete their sentence.

Then a horrible thing happened.

My conscience showed up.

For some reason, my conscience was in a mood to talk, in a most accusing way.

Mr. Conscience reminded me that three years ago, I had skipped out on rent that was due.

He also brought up the fact that I copped some money from a drawer when I was at a friend’s house.

There were four or five examples that my goddamned nosy conscience decided to dredge up. Each one could be individually explained away—and had been, by my glib nature.

But collectively, they showcased an individual who felt he was superior to everybody else—certainly high and lifted above the rules—and therefore could do what he wanted.

The conclusion was simple. I was a criminal because I committed a crime by breaking the law, which was really a rule set by those who have the uncomfortable job of trying to make things run smoothly by seeking common ground among diverse people.

I was thoroughly ashamed.

Since that day I have not lived a faultless life, but I’ve never been a criminal again. Because even though I don’t always agree, I always know that agreeable is necessary.

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

 

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Coworker

Coworker: (n) a fellow worker; colleague

Do you like funny statements?

I often find myself giggling over ideas that are presented as truthful, or at least positive, which have no basis in reality whatsoever.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

One that really tickles my funny bone is the notion that someone is “in charge.”

Helpless we arrive, dear friends, and helpless we live—and in between we do our best with what we’ve got.

So if you’re at a job somewhere and everyone’s jockeying to be the big boss, you might want to calm down and realize there are only two advantages in being the big boss. They are:

1. More money

2. More blame.

Wait—I guess that second one is not an advantage.

Because as long as you’re a co-worker, you can share the money with everyone else and also share the blame. But when you become the boss, the reason they give you extra dollars—if they do—is to prepare you for the realization that if things go badly, you are the one who will be holding the bag.

Life would be so much better if we stopped trying to boss each other around or act like we’re the boss of politics, or the boss of God, the boss of our families or the boss of our jobs.

The best bosses in the world act like coworkers.

Matter of fact, when you get right down to it, that is the message of the New Testament from the Bible. God got tired of being the boss and getting all the blame, so He came down to Earth as Jesus, to be a coworker with us, so we could share in the profits, but also evenly distribute the responsibility.


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Constrain

Constrain: (v) to compel or force someone toward a particular course of action

I stopped being political many years ago when folks pushed me to join a party. They constrained me.

I ceased being religious when I realized that I couldn’t just love my neighbor as myself, but needed to sit my butt down for an hour-long funny wisdom on words that begin with a Cservice of boredom, which I was supposed to pay for in the offering plate. They constrained me to be a church attendee.

I refused to be super-macho in order to prove to all the men and women in the world that I was worthy of consideration, though the constraint to do so was extraordinarily intense.

My thought has always been, if a candidate isn’t worthy to hold office, advertising him or her as one of your party does not increase his or her value.

Likewise, if God needs my money instead of my heart, then maybe He should go out and get a job.

And if hair on your head, hair on your face and hair on your balls is the symbol of manhood, then I would prefer to languish in the animal kingdom.

When anyone tries to constrain you to do something, using intimidation or threatening that if you don’t, you won’t belong, you won’t be saved or you won’t “get the chicks,” then you should smile and say, “No, thanks. See ya’ later. I have an appointment to talk with myself.”

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Mr. Kringle's Tales...26 Stories 'Til Christmas

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Compute

Compute: (v) to calculate or reckon a figure or amount.

At one time in my life, I took a job that required computer knowledge. I had none. Matter of fact, the whole time I kept that job, I had no real comprehension of how to work it.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

What I did was learn what buttons to push, in the sequence necessary to perform tasks. Of course, it sounds ridiculous. I could have read the screen and learned where each strike of the key was taking me and why. But I chose not to.

I became so familiar with the motions and so confident that the computer would be faithful to its own programming that I just kept punching things in order.

Because of that, it appeared I was able to compute.

Matter of fact, one morning a gentleman commented to me “how fast I was” on the apparatus. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that my speed was due to the fact that I didn’t wait for the computer to react–I assumed it would catch up with me.

It always did.

In a day and age when we feel prideful about understanding everything, discussing detail and being able to take things apart and break them down into their singular units, I think sometimes we just have to look at history, spirituality, common sense and fairness–and punch the right buttons in the right order.

 

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Cold-call

Cold-call: (n) an unsolicited visit or telephone call made by someone trying to sell goods or services.

“Good morning! My name is…”

I immediately could tell that the person on the other end of the line was not convinced of the goodness of the morning, and did not give one flying Frito pie as to what my name was.

In baseball that’s called Strike Two.

What I did next would determine whether I would immediately go to Strike Three in the first twenty seconds, or survive, crossing thirty seconds–or the amazing possibility of a minute.

Cold-calling.

So referred to because it is calling that is made to human icebergs.

Usually when I realized that the person I was speaking to was not convinced of the beauty of the day, and was not impressed with my name, I would unfortunately have that two-second gulp in my throat.

This was always the length of time it took the individual who had already expressed indifference, to come in and close the deal on me.

“Listen, I don’t need anything. Bye.”

My supervisor in the company pointed out to me that when I was doing the cold-calling–the phone solicitation–I had deprived this individual of the benefit–dare he say, blessing?–of hearing about the terrific product.

All of this done through a misplaced gulp.

I got better. Sometimes I survived past the first gulp and got all the way to this phrase:

“What I’m calling you about today…”

Then a second wall, needing to hurdled, standing tall, wide and thick, suddenly rose before my nose–and once again, was terminated with the party on the other line (who, by the way, was not having a party) excusing him or herself and hanging up.

If I could get to the one-minute mark, where I explained how the product I was offering was not only beneficial but terribly inexpensive, I found that one out of four times I actually made a sale.

Let’s analyze the numbers:

Ninety percent of the people cut me off at my first gulp.

Five percent of the people stopped me with “the great wall.”

This means that five out of every one hundred people became my potential market of sales. I would have to ask you (and myself) what I would do in life if the potential for it only rallied five out of every one hundred times?

Honest to God, I think I would give up sex over that.

Cold-calling is something that many adults in the past experienced in an attempt to escape being criticized for not having a job.

And by itself–with its trials, its rejection and its nastiness–it nearly turned all of us into vagrants.

 

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Bundle

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Bundle: (n) a collection of things, or a quantity of material, tied or wrapped up together.

I only lasted one day on the job. I got confused on what to do, so ended up quitting.

It was a lumber company.

Since I was the newbie, the manager asked me to go out back and find pieces of scrap wood which were about the same length, and bundle them together, tie them off and place them in a pile near the wood shop.

I understood the assignment–at least, I thought I did. But when he returned and I was ready for praise, he immediately began to un-bundle my pieces of wood, explaining that I had put pine in with oak and press board with walnut.

I bungled my bundling.

He had another rule–one which he understood and I didn’t, because after all, it was my first day. He was a little disgusted that I couldn’t tell the difference by texture and color. I thought the only distinction was supposed to be length.

I was wrong.

Truthfully, I run across the same problem every day as I am instructed by society to bundle up people into groups. At first, I thought the only way I was supposed to set them apart was, “These are the nice ones that can be treated nicely and respond well, and these are the meaner ones which require being treated even nicer.”

But they keep changing the rules.

They’ve introduced culture, color, sexual preference, gender, age, political persuasion and religion.

So there’s never really any way to get things bundled. There are too many considerations to adequately discern what should go together and what should be separated.

Bundling is the way we try to put things that are similar into one unit.

But of course, if we don’t accept the fact that similarity is possible, we will just end up being scattered wood.

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Applicant

dictionary with letter A

Ap·pli·cant (n): a person who makes a formal application for something, typically a job.

Filling out a form often has no reason.

I have done my share, as I’m sure you have.

Matter of fact, in the business world, being handed a form to fill out is often considered to be a formal greeting. Sometimes there’s a clipboard so you can sit and write on your knee, using the pen attached by some sort of wire.

They are certainly attempting to communicate that this is part of their process, and demanded if you plan to be included in their little cult of the organized.

Each application has its own personality. It also has its own level of nosiness.

At a doctor’s office, an application can include questions that go back into the lifestyles of your ancient ancestors.

Did my great-grandfather have rheumatic fever? (Honestly, I don’t know, so I make up an answer.)

If you’re applying for a loan at a bank, they want to know lots of things about your lots of things–even lots of things about your little things. And especially little things about lots of things.

Probably the most grating experience in the human panorama is watching someone peruse your application while you sit, wiggling and squirming in silence.

  • Did I answer right?
  • How was my penmanship? (Mrs. Bosley always said I made really ugly “n’s.” Of course, I was in the first grade…)

Yes, there’s nothing quite as frustrating–dare I say aggravating–as being condemned over answers scrawled on a piece of paper.

And I have made the mistake of trying to be humorous on such applications, only to have the interviewer, who obviously has no mirth anywhere within his or her soul, question me as to the meaning of my answer. At that point, it hardly seems to be appropriate to say, “I was kidding,” and saying I misunderstood the question is even more embarrassing.

No, being an applicant and filling out an application is serious business.

It demands an adult mind–one which is still childish enough to believe that such filling in the blanks is actually a microcosm of one’s life.

 

 

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Albino

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Albino: (n) a person or animal having a congenital absence of pigment in the skin and hair (which are white) and the eyes (which are typically pink).

Yes, it would certainly be one of the more difficult jobs–being hired on as an albino Dean of Students at an African-American college.

Even if your heart was in the right place, your total whiteness might be a constant reminder to the students of former indignities and ongoing indiscretions.

How would you approach that job?

First of all, it would be a little difficult to get hired. I mean, your qualifications would have to be over the top–so much so that the trustees of the university would be compelled to accept you, or face legal action for discrimination.

(That would be a touchy case, right? “Southern Black University Taken to Court by Albino Professor for Bigotry“)

Secondly, you’d have to have a reason for being there. Maybe it would be a compelling notion that your obvious difference would bring greater discussion about race relations to the forefront.

It would be good to have a sense of humor, don’t you think? You certainly wouldn’t want to walk around acting like you didn’t know you were really, really, really white…

How about a talent? Juggling or harmonica would certainly be beneficial.

Yes, being an albino, working in an African-American college, would immediately beg some questions.

So even though nowadays we pride ourselves on the progress we have made in race relations, gender roles and even sexual orientation, there’s always a new prejudice around the corner, which will baffle us because we fail to apply previous discovery to the present situation.

Yes, it’s difficult to remember, as you walk in to apply at your college, in front of your albino dean, that you once were forbidden to sit at a lunch counter.

Agog

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter AAgog: (adj) very eager or curious to hear or see something: e.g. the tourists were all agog to see New York

I told her she did good work.

She replied flatly, “It’s just my job.”

She was my waitress at the restaurant, and she had done exceptional service to us, worthy of praise and a good tip. She just didn’t realize how valuable and rare she was.

As I finish Tour 2013 across this country, may I share with you a recurring reality? Something has died.

The carcass doesn’t stink enough yet for people to be aware, but it won’t be long. We have gone from being a nation which at least occasionally would be “agog” about our lives to being bored individuals who look at everything as “agig.”

We have lost the spontaneity, the humor, the adventure of solving problems and just the sheer joy of surviving a little bit of hassle in order to manufacture a victory which we can proudly initial.

I’m not exactly sure what we want.

  • Movies are bigger and more expensive than ever, but don’t have legs. People just don’t talk about them.
  • Music is over-produced, over-discussed and overwrought, yet does not create the simple stirring caused by a single Dylan guitar.
  • Government is more prevalent, but certainly less proficient..
  • Churches have become transfixed with the notion of “mega,” while simultaneously settling for a “mini” cultural influence.

We saw it coming. For after all, about fifteen or twenty years ago we decided to stop being impressed with anything. We called it “sophisticated.” “Laid-back.” We referred to it as “maturity.” We thought we were extraordinarily cool when we said, “I’ve seen that before.”

So on my part, I have made a conscious effort to avoid looking at anything as “agig,” but instead looking at it as “agog.”

Staying in motel rooms, I have learned to cook with only a microwave oven, making elaborate casseroles and meals. I am impressed with both the results and myself.

I am agog that people are still willing to come out from their homes and experience something new–something they’re not even sure they understand or will appreciate.

If we’re going to arrive at the full fruits of freedom, we must never cease to be in awe of the idea. For the only true way to ever lose your independence is to take it for granted.

And the only way you will ever be devoid of joy … is to stop looking for happy.