Out of the Box

March 14, Week 2, Day 14

This is it.  D-Day.  The two-week mark of my fourteen-day Dale Carnegie challenge, and apparently I’ve been reading the wrong danged book.  After I finished the last chapter earlier today, and even read the somewhat obsequious Afterword by Thomas Lowell, I returned the book to the eager hands of my father.  When I’d told him that I was reading it, his fervor for the Word According to Carnegie was rekindled, and he could hardly wait to revisit the faded glory of his younger entrepreneurial days.  He burrowed further into his Snuggie and cracked the cover with a contented sigh, only to unleash a string of expletives mere moments later.  Granted, my father has been known to unleash a string of expletives over such minor occurrences as a hard-to-find-in-the-pantry-even-though-it’s-staring-you-in-the-face bag of cashews or wax on his dental floss, but I hardly expected him to revert to form in the hallowed House of Dale.

As fate would have it, the revised edition of How To Win Friends and Influence People is a far cry from the short and sweet outline of Carnegie’s main principles that comprises the original, which avoids a lot of the repetition that I found so cumbersome in the revised edition.   I can’t help but wonder how the difference between the two volumes might have impacted my experience of reading it, not that I feel in any way tempted to test the theory.  Stuck a fork in me, Dale.  I’m done. 

However, I don’t want to neglect mentioning the content of the last four chapters of the book, lest I later fall victim to the “Oh, God, I never went to my senior prom”-type phantom pain some people claim plagues their adult years.  Once started, better finish, and I have to admit to some curiosity about the big ending.  Predictably, the final principles were just more variations on the theme of appreciation and encouragement (i.e. “Praise every improvement”, “Give the other person a fine reputation to live up to”, “Make the fault seem easy to correct”, and the refreshingly unabashed “Make people glad to do what you want.”)  Needless to say, I didn’t get the big ending I was hoping for from Mr. Carnegie, or from the last two weeks, but I may have gotten something better.

Part of the exhilaration of beginning this little project lay in the prospect of something to do, something to accomplish, as well as the expectation that all good plans lead to anticipated results.   I envisioned that I would either be cheerily broadcasting the unqualified success of my longed-for job interview, or brashly packing my bags and heading into the sunrise in search of the destiny that was so clearly having trouble finding me in my childhood home. 

Dale Carnegie has been quoted as saying that he saw his job as helping people to conquer their fears and develop courage.  Well, I’ve never been afraid of flinging myself into a ridiculous array of unfamiliar circumstances, just for the thrill of making it work, or rising to the challenge of a new task.  What I feared then and fear now is that I will be, go, do, and see nothing.  That I’ll spend my life living vicariously through books and gazing out windows, while my life passes me by like a vaguely familiar ghost.   But when I stop the violin music and tragic pondering, I realize that this would never happen.  It’s already not happened again and again.  

I’m doing everything I can think of to create this next phase of my life.  The only thing I’m not doing is the thing I fear, which is whatever happens when I stop worrying about the things I think I should be worrying about- the job, the apartment, creating a profile on Match.com, the incipient infertility!  Honestly, my job search-related activities take two hours a day, max, but I have managed to fill the remainder of the time with endless projects and to-do lists, lest anyone suspect that I might be happy right now, living with my parents, watching the seasons change.

So no more assignments, no more projects, and no more comparing my life to Amelia Earhart’s.  No more “fitness challenges”, liver cleanses, or self-help guru assignments.  What thirty-four year-old women in her right mind would fritter away the chance to do exactly what she pleases, when she pleases, at a time of life when most modern females are overextended and overwhelmed by the pace and practicalities of their lives?  I’ve still got my eye on the prize, mind you, but no more of this rabid bat in a cardboard box baloney.  I’m going to make the most of every day, and I’m NOT going to make a blog out of it.  But if I did, I’d call it “My Fabulous(ly Successful) Life as a Stay-At-Home Daughter”.

Let The Messenger Shoot Himself

March 13, Week 2, Day 13

   My mom just came in to tell me that daylight savings time is upon us.  “When you wake up tomorrow morning, it will be an hour later”, she helpfully added.  “Maybe I won’t wake up” I observed. “Sometimes people die in their sleep.”  That was weird.  Well, weird for me, ghoulish and morbid for my mother, who quickly left the room with a perturbed backward glance. 

I’m not sure where that came from, although I’m quite certain it did not spring from any latent desire to take a dirt nap.  Even though tomorrow is Dale Carnegie’s last day to inspire me with his words- the day I pledged to make a radical shift in strategy if I hadn’t made significant progress in my job search by then- I’d still rather be ghoulish than graveyard-bound, and we must count this a success, no?

How To Win Friends And Influence People is a lightning fast read.  To be honest, I could have easily polished it off in a day (no job, remember?), were it not for my desperate need for a “project” to make meaning of my accursed leisure time.  Still, today’s five-chapter slog was a marathon stretch, relatively speaking.  The content, fortunately, was pretty absorbing, though I’m not sure how it applies to my circumstances.  Part Four is dedicated to the fine art of being the bearer of bad tidings.  In other words, if you need to fire someone, critique them, or punish them, here are some nifty tips for doing so in a way that will avoid the unpleasantness of late night death threats and burning effigies on your lawn.

It all comes down to dropping the bomb in a manner that has the recipient enjoying the view to the right, while the apocalypse approaches from the left.  Begin, of course, with a sincere compliment, then call attention to their mistakes indirectly (e.g. “My, that beret gives your head the most appealing shape!  Such a nice way to manage the humidity in the air from the flood in the living room.  That bathroom faucet does have great pressure when it’s left on!”)  Despite your diplomacy, you might still arouse a frisson of defensiveness in your victim.  Self-effacement saves the day (e.g. “Goodness knows I have a hard time turning it off even when I want to with these puny wrists!”). 

Now they know that you know what they did wrong, and it’s time to get inquisitive.  Ask questions and make suggestions (e.g. “Why do you think people don’t turn the taps off sometimes?  Maybe we could replace our carpets with rubber sheeting?”).  But most importantly, let the other person save face, lest you deal the ego an enraging blow (e.g. “Well, I’m going to have to stick a Post-It note to my silly old forehead to remind myself to turn off those silly old taps.  You’re such a dear to put up with a daffy old broad like me!”).   

It’s all good stuff, and I wish I could share it with the likes of Donald Trump and Simon Cowell, although apparently compassionate critique makes for bad reality television.  And the fact that I have just implied that there is such a thing as “good reality television” hints at how I spend my evening hours, and makes me want to stick my head in an oven.  So we’re back to where we started.  

I'd Like To Thank All The Little People...

March 12, Week 2, Day 12

The Following is brought to you by Chapters 8-12:

Scene:  Julie walks into a well-appointed corner office.  Mrs. Q, her interviewer du jour, sits behind her tidy desk.

Mrs. Q:  Thanks so much for coming, Julie.  Please make yourself comfortable.

Julie: (moving behind the desk and snuggling into Mrs. Q’s lap) Thank you Mrs. Q.  My, what a lovely office you have.  I can see why you placed that oil painting just beside your floor lamp.  It really sets off the beige tones in the beach scene!

[Principle 8- Try honestly to see things from the other person’s point of view.]

Mrs. Q: (flustered, but flattered, she gently nudges Julie off her lap) Um, thank you.  I got that in the Hamptons.  Perhaps you’d be more comfortable on the other side of the desk?  So I can see you better?  I was very impressed with your resume, and the eloquence of your cover letter.  I’d like to hear more about your qualifications.

Julie: Gosh, Mrs. Q, your request really shows me that you are serious about your job, and have an insatiable desire to learn.  Boy do I know what that’s like.  I can hardly think of a question in my mind before I’m poring over US Weekly for the answer!  You must really want to know why you should hire me. 

[Principle 9- Be sympathetic with the other person’s ideas and desires.]

Mrs. Q:  Well, yes, that is why I’ve asked you here today.  Perhaps you wouldn’t mind sharing what positive contributions you feel you could make to our organization?

Julie:  Oh, Mrs. Q., ask not what I can do for your organization, but what your organization can do for me!  Aren’t all mission-driven organizations primarily motivated to improve the lives of others?  And who better to benefit from your compassion than an unemployed waif like myself?  I’m sure you can’t wait to tell me about my benefits package, am I right?

[Principle 10- Appeal to the nobler motives.]

Mrs. Q:  Actually, we typically don’t get into that until the end of the interview, after we’ve gotten through questions about qualifications and work history.

Julie:  Work history?  Well, why didn’t you say so, my dear Mrs. Q.  (Julie rises from her chair, does a couple of limbering exercises, and some vocal warm-ups).  If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to share with you a short monologue from one of my favorite plays by a certain drunken rogue by the name of Tennessee Williams, “A Streetcar Named Desire”.    I feel it really captures the tragedy and triumph of my professional trajectory.  Would you mind playing Stella?  I’ll only need to backhand you once, and then you can just sit back and enjoy the show!  (Julie cracks her knuckles, peels down to a stained tank top, and pulls a half-empty bottle of bourbon from her shoulder bag.)

[Principle 11- Dramatize your ideas.]

Mrs. Q:  Ah, perhaps we could save that one for the second interview?  Now perhaps you can tell me more about what you feel your particular strengths and weaknesses are as they relate to this position, and how you might work with those here?

Julie:  Quite happily, milady.  Only a fool doesn’t know that an employee is only as strong as their weakest weaknesses, n’est pas.  Case in point.  I have a very strong lower body, but a chronic weakness in my wrists.  This makes me a good soccer player, but an inconsistent tennis player.  (Julie pulls something from her bag)  That’s why I carry around this tennis ball.  I squeeze it to strengthen the muscles of my wrists and hands, thereby transforming my weakness into a strength.  Enough said.  As far as my lower body goes, we’ll have to step outside for a couple of suicide drills, although from the looks of those little bird gams, I’m guessing that’s not your strength, eh Q?  Never mind, I’m sure you played a mean oboe with the rest of the band geeks.  Follow me please.  Loser hires winner.

Mrs. Q, looking somewhat stunned, numbly rises from her chair and follows Julie out the door.  Julie stops by the water cooler and takes a long drink from the spout, face dripping as she continues out the front door, Mrs. Q on her heels.

[Principle 12- Throw down a challenge]

The End

*I must admit I felt a little cocky after this run-through, but I realize that it is a bit unrealistic.  Hardly anyone’s last name begins with “Q”.

Why Q-Tips Make Me Sad

March 11, Week 2, Day 11

     Only three days of my two-week challenge left after today, and it’s time to kick it into overdrive.  The chapters are getting shorter, and the Principles are coming fast and furious.  I don’t know if it’s the result of my new “can do” attitude, yesterday’s conciliatory statement, or the natural build of Dale Carnegie’s narrative, but I feel like he’s really starting to deliver the goods.

Today, I actually felt like I was reading something that, although quite practical and commonsensical, I felt like I hadn’t heard before.

     Chapter 5, titled “The Secret of Socrates”, lands the importance of getting the other person to say “Yes” as many times as possible as early in the conversation as possible.  Begin the conversation by asking questions that you know you’ll get an affirmative response to (“Don’t you wish a good haircut wasn’t so danged expensive?”), and keep pumping them for “yes’s” throughout whatever it is your pitching.  He likens this to the Socratic method, which he describes as asking questions that your opponent has to agree with until they start agreeing with things that they may not have in the first place.  While my brief but spectacular love affair with philosophy in college leads me to suspect that this is a pretty incomplete understanding of Socrates’ brilliance, I’m willing to take this bit of advice and run with it.

Chapter 6 and 7, which hit on the techniques of letting the other person do most of the talking while making them think the idea you are proposing was his/hers originally, is on a slightly different track, but consistent with the “customer’s always right” tone of the book.  I keep thinking about how I could do this smoothly in an interview without appearing shifty and unreliable, or just plain stupid (“What do you think my greatest skills are?  Why do you want me to work here?”)  As I understand it, Carnegie advocates that the best way to get what you want is to find out what the other person wants, and convince them that you are the one to give it to them while actually giving them what you want, which has also become what they want because they can’t remember what they wanted in the first place.  Or something like that. 

I was seriously in danger of getting bogged down in another morass of questionable morality, when a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson swooped in to save the day.  Carnegie was attempting to illustrate how important it is to people to have ownership over their own ideas, and receive ample acknowledgement for their successes.  Humans are limited, in Carnegie’s view, in their ability to truly appreciate or invest in anything that they perceive as not having originated with themselves- a perspective less flattering than the mirror in a department store changing room.  Emerson, however, gives it considerably more poetic gravitas when he says that “in every work of genius, we recognize our own rejected thoughts; they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty.”  Ah, a big sad breath of fresh air!  I feel this way about the Q-Tip and Therapeutic Toe Alignment Slippers.   I could have invented them.  But I didn’t.

In the end I think I will be able to say that it’s the hallowed voices of great men that Carnegie recruits in service of his message that will make this book a true resource for me.  This was only a suspicion until an oasis of compassion appeared in the desert of Chapter 7, courtesy of Lao Tse.  Despite what I know is the late Dale Carnegie’s commitment to the betterment of mankind, all I can hear in his message most days is “Suck up, and suck up hard.  Suck up until your mouth feels like sandpaper and your cheeks turn inside out.  Then suck up some more.  And mean it.”  Yet in the words of Lao Tse, I get less Machiavelli and more Mother Nature, in an elegant way that sums up the whole book (I think the Tao Te Ching is actually shorter than How To Win Friends and Influence People, but maybe it’s a cultural thing.)  So without further ado…

“The reason why rivers and seas receive the homage of a hundred mountain streams is that they keep below them.  Thus they are able to reign over all the mountain streams.  So the sage, wishing to be above men, putteth himself below them; wishing to before them, he putteth himself behind them.   Thus, though his place be above men, they do not feel his weight; though his place be before them, they do not count it an injury.”

I am definitely going to putteth this one in my toolbox.

Right From Wrong

March 10, Week 2, Day 10

Principle 3, Part 3:  “If You Are Wrong, Admit it Quickly and Emphatically.”  

Well, I was wrong.  Wrong to think I don’t have a job yet because I am doing something wrong or that there is something wrong with me.  Wrong to think that a book written in 1936 can save my life in two weeks, when my life doesn’t need saving, and when it does, Dale Carnegie would be the first to say that that’s MY job.  I was also wrong to think that nothing short of an interview or job offer could brighten my day, when all it took was a phone conversation with a dear, wise friend, while I sat in a parking lot and watched the dirty snow melt.  I’ve been wrong in aiming too low, and wrong in selling myself short.  Funny how realizing how wrong I am can turn the world back upright.

Principle 4, Part 3:  “Begin In A Friendly Way”

So I’m starting over, not from the premise that all of my efforts up to now have been a waste because they haven’t yielded visible results, but based on a thirst for knowledge, and the enjoyment of public discourse.  Nice to meet you, Mr. Carnegie, I’m sure you’ve got worlds of wisdom to share, and I’ll do my best to keep things in context and listen with an open mind.  In the mean time, I’m going to go apply for some more jobs, and try to enjoy this unexpected sabbatical.  Peace out.  

Put Me In, Coach

March 9, Week 2, Day 9

     Today, as I was poring over chapters one and two of Part Three (“How To Win People To Your Way of Thinking”), I noticed a flock of blackbirds pecking at a patch of ground outside my window.  They looked very industrious and intent on harvesting whatever bounty the newly melted snow had revealed.   Animal Speaks by Ted Andrews suggests that the appearance of a blackbird foretells new surprises.  Later, I went to the grocery store, bought some salad dressing for my dad, and delivered it to him at work as he requested.  But lo and behold, he had already sent his secretary out to buy some, since he didn’t think I would remember to do it.  Surprise!

     If I were a fully realized human, or even just a shade more enlightened than I am, I would have no trouble relishing the simple acts of service I am able to perform each day, like buying and delivering my dad’s salad dressing.  Nor would I struggle at all with Principle 1 of Part Three- “The only way to win an argument is to avoid it”.  I do tend to try to defuse and deescalate arguments rather than incite and prolong them, but I find it difficult to walk away at times, knowing that my retreat may be construed as agreement with a point I am opposed to.  Nonetheless, I appreciate Carnegie’s insight that, when we argue, we encourage the other person to get their sense of importance from being right, rather than being listened to.  

     This dovetails quite well into Principle 2 of this section, which is “Show respect for the other person’s opinions.  Never say “you’re wrong”.  It is perfectly acceptable, and even advisable according to Carnegie, to admit that you yourself may be wrong.  This is a gesture of good will, and a sign that you are prioritizing the relationship over being right.

     As I mulled and masticated this advice throughout the day, it occurred to me that the arena where these insights would be most useful to me at present would be in my relationship with the Universe/ God/ Great Spirit/ Grand Hoo Ha running the show.  Not a day goes by lately that I don’t file a request with “All That Is” to expedite this excruciatingly prolonged and anxiety-producing process of new life/new job hunting.  I’ve vowed to surrender all attachment to the where and the what.  I really have.  I’ve even tried to figure out what unfinished business might be tying up the process (standard self-help protocol). I’ve worked on my daily practices, refined my interviewing skills, and tried to confront my dominant “issues”.   I’m pretty attached to whatever I do in some way helping to create a more peaceful world in a locale with abundant outdoor recreation options, but other than that, I’m a puppet on a divine string (too much Yogi Tea perhaps?). 

     That said, I just can’t help kvetching over the timeline.  I know that in the spectrum of evolution, a few months is just a shadow of a micro-blip, but I’ve only got this one lifetime as Julie Aitcheson (I’m lobbying for something in southeast Asia next time around), and my clock is ticking at hyperspeed.   But in the spirit of Dale Carnegie, and his belief in the power of acts of good will, I am hereby extending an olive branch to the Unmovable Mover. 

Dear Big One,

Sorry for all the late night calls and repetitive questions.  I’ve been making a show of going with the flow, but really I’ve kept the reins clutched in my feeble hands, so sure that I was right about how all of this is supposed to unfold, when it turns out I may be wrong.  Please just remember that my life is not measured in light years, and that I think I could do something really good out there if you take me off the bench. 

With oodles of good will,

Julie

P.S. The word count of this entry topped out at 666 (no kidding!), which seemed ominous, so here’s a postscript about nothing for your reading pleasure.

Springtime For Us Egomaniacal Sociopaths

March 8, Week 1, Day 8

     Usually, no one can top me for Spring Fever.  When the first soft breeze touches my face, I surge with manic energy and optimism right down to my mitochondria, and there’s little that can restrain the rise of my sap, even a late April snow shower.   Today, I walked out in a sweater, no down or winter-weight fleece between me and the elements.  No persistent swish of an impermeable rain layer as I swung my arms to generate heat.  I did what I could to bring that old feeling to the fore.  I pressed the palms of my hands into the brave shoots of green grass.  I turned my face to the sun and inhaled the aroma of well-saturated soil.  I even hugged a tree. 

     Yet somehow this seasonal transition is bringing me down.  I didn’t think I’d still be here to see the first crocuses at the edge of the woods on my parent’s land, or take my brother’s car in for a new inspection sticker.  I think back to the optimism that had me contacting potential housemates on Craigslist in mid-December.  It was actually kind of a fun (though generally inadvisable) way to meet people, but talks were eventually abandoned when the hoped-for job offers didn’t exactly come screaming down the pike.

     I am aware that, in my Eeyore-esque reflections, I resemble the costume designer who won an Academy Award last night, who shall remain nameless because I can’t remember her name, and don’t want to defame her just because Greenpeace isn’t returning my calls.  She held the Oscar in her hands, and seemed actually put upon as she gazed down at it.  She commented that it was her third such honor, and acted as though the Academy meant to force her to affix the gaudy ornament to the hood of her Mini Cooper. 

   Now I don’t have a phalanx, or even one, of these distinguished statuettes gracing my mantelpiece.  I don’t even have a mantelpiece.  But what I do have is an amazingly loving and supportive network of family and friends, the blessing of parents who are willing to shelter and feed me while I scamper about the internet looking for livelihood, radiant good health, and the freedom to create my future according to my deepest aspirations rather than strictly imposed and enforced limitations on who and what I can become.  So if the image of my forlorn face as I reach my spindly arms around a storm-tilted oak brings a tear to your eye, don’t cry for me, Argentina, and I’ll try not to either.

     If you’re beginning to suspect that I’m avoiding an account of my latest foray into the world of How To Win Friends And Influence People, you may be right.  Truthfully, if Mr. Carnegie had been a bit wordier, expanding his thoughts into a volume that might take, say, a month or even three weeks to read, I’d be sorely tempted to wave the white flag on this one, and start blogging about my newest hobby of taking provocative pictures of household waste.  However, giving up on anything at this points feels like it would threaten a landslide of despair, so I will forge ahead, though at the accelerated pace of two chapters a day to bulk up the content. 

     Principle 5 (“Talk in terms of the other person’s interests”) and Principle 6 (“Make the other person feel important- and do it sincerely”) stay consistent with the overall thrust of Carnegie’s philosophy, which could be summarized as “Pay attention, be nice, and mean it.”   And though I have gotten a rather mercenary impression from his explanations thus far, Carnegie reportedly became quite indignant when an audience member at one of his talks asked what he hoped to gain from someone by treating them in such a way.  “…if our souls are no bigger than sour crab apples, we shall meet the failure we so richly deserve”, going so far as to call such motives “contemptibly selfish”.  This seems a bit harsh and inconsistent to me, given his emphasis on the primacy of egocentric needs, labeling the urge to feel important as “responsible for civilization itself”.  And here I thought it was to establish consistently reliable food security and shelter.  I guess what I’m coming up against here is that I can’t quite decide if Dale Carnegie is driven by humanism or capitalism, and as the arbiter of my current new job/new life search strategy, this distinction feels immeasurably important.

     Again, although I did let Carnegie’s latest installment percolate in my subconscious all day in hopes that it would yield a revelation or two, Yogi Tea trumps Carnegie once again. “Have wisdom in your actions and faith in your merits.”  It sounds like something he might say, anyway, though with “but not too much, because the other person is probably an egomaniacal sociopath with an inferiority complex” as a likely addendum.

Yogi Tea; 1, Dale Carnegie; 0

March 7, Week 1, Day 7

*Note: Due to what I am discovering to be some lightweight length and content in the chapters of Part 2, I have combined Chapters 3 & 4 in order to ensure that I will be at the end of the book by the end of the week. Also, if I had to eke pith once again from anything as inspirationally barren as the “Smile” chapter, I might be tempted to abandon the enterprise altogether. I embrace the beauty of simplicity in my life, my diet, and my pleasures, but in the name of all that’s holy, I’ve got too much riding on this week to practice my best “hire me” smiles and looks of sincere interest in the bathroom mirror.

Actually, the experience of reading this book reminds me of watching Hitchcock’s classic, Psycho, for film class.  Our prescient teacher prepared us by saying that we may not find it particularly gruesome or haunting compared to, say, The Blair Witch Project, but this film was the first of its kind, and defined the horror genre for future generations.  I was very grateful to her for that perspective, and it really helped me appreciate Psycho’s brilliance and enduring appeal.  I wish Professor Dalton had been on hand when I pulled How To Win Friends And Influence People off the shelf.   Carnegie’s advice may not be breaking news, especially not to a closet connoisseur of the self-help genre such as myself, but he paved the way for the helpful how-to’s that I have been secretly feasting on since I learned that there were a mere seven spiritual laws of success, and a kindly doctor by the name of Chopra would share them with me for a mere sixteen dollars.  I will try to remind myself of Carnegie’s pioneer status when the impulse to roll my eyes arises. 

With that said, I braced myself for an inevitable rise and rapid fall of hope that the next chapter might yield the precious gem of insight I’ve been yearning for.  A week ago, I would have read the title of Part 2, Chapter 3 with breathless anticipation (“If You Don’t Do This, You Are Headed for Trouble”), but old Dale’s hooked me with that old chestnut one time too many.  The advice itself, to remember someone’s name and use it in your interactions with them, is sound, but again, not quite the Hammurabi’s Code to Human Resources I was hoping for.  Not that I don’t need any help in this area, though not because I can’t be bothered to remember the information.  Actually, I get so absorbed in the unique topography of each face; the adorable cleft chin, the incipient mono-brow, that I frequently miss the name altogether.  Carnegie recommends repeating the name as soon as you hear it, and associating it with other details about the person, like features, expressions and general appearance (e.g. “Howard Howard Howard studies herpetology and smells like brisket.”) 

I find this useful, and will dutifully tuck it into my invisible toolbox.  The actual wording of Principle 3 takes a bit of the sheen off of my tentative appreciation for Carnegie’s latest offering.  It reads thusly:  “Remember that a person’s name is to that person the sweetest and most important sound in any language.”  Needless to say, I hope to God that this is not true of me, nor would I wish to work for anyone for whom it resonates.  Sorry, Dale, you lost me there.  I wonder if Masaru Emoto, the guy that changed the crystalline composition of water by pasting words like “Love” and “Peace” onto drinking glasses, is aware that “Phyllis” and “Dwayne” would have proven more expedient?

Almost as though sensing my evolving resistance to his sensational chapter titling, Carnegie’s pitch for the content of Chapter 4, “An Easy Way To Become A Good Conversationalist”, is much softer.  The lead-in happens to be one that I not only agree with, but also experience as true on a daily basis.  People will tend to think of you as a brilliant conversationalist if you ask lots of thoughtful questions and spend most of the exchange in listening mode.  It’s pretty right on, and is actually the role I prefer to assume in most interactions, being pathologically curious and always on the lookout for the next learning opportunity.  It can get tricky when I forget that I can reasonably expect close friends and loved ones to return the favor, and if they don’t, I may want to re-evaluate our connection.  This excludes young children, of course.  I would never expect my three year-old niece Kate to listen to an exhaustive analysis of my romantic liaisons, though she does help me pick out some killer date outfits.

I need little convincing of the importance of this content, so I won’t drive it into the ground.  I’ll just skip to the part where he loses me again.  Utterly.  The chapter winds down with a couple of empirically stated assessments that highlight the perspective I have been struggling with from the beginning. To give you, the reader, an opportunity to experience your own reaction to Carnegie’s words, I will avoid the paraphrase.  Quote #1:  “Remember that the people you are talking to are a hundred times more interested in themselves and their wants and problems than they are in your problems.”  Quote #2:  “A person’s toothache means more to that person than a famine in China which kills a million people… Think of that the next time you start a conversation.”  Well, if I thought of that, I’m not sure I could muster the desire to get out of bed in the morning, never mind strike up a sincerely appreciative and interested conversation over cocktail wieners.  This just isn’t the world I live in, and I like it that way. 

In setting the bar so low for humanity, I’m not sure Dale’s doing us any favors.  Unless, of course, he’s simply referring to Maslow’s Hierarchy and the concept that it is essential to meet our basic needs for safety and security before we can aspire to the heights of personal development.  What it feels like, though, is a suggestion that our exposure to his vital knowledge somehow elevates us to a realm beyond Homo sapiens sapiens, letting us in on the joke so that we can manipulate the vanity of others.  To be honest, I feel like I got more today out of the tag on my bag of Yogi Tea.  “Be selfless, and you will be infinite.”  Yep, I think I’ll take that one.

Smile. Really?

March 6, Week 1, Day 6

Part 2, Chapter 2- “A Simple Way To Make A Good First Impression”.  Smile.  That’s it.  That’s the second principle of Part 2, Chapter 2.  Well, Auntie Julie’s a bit threadbare after three hours of fine dining with three children under the age of five, so I guess I should be glad for the brevity and simple message of this chapter.  Yet somewhere within my weary body, a restive voice protests, “Come on, Dale, throw me a bone here.”  It’s after 10pm, and I don’t have the vim for a treatise on the finer points of the smile theory, but I will say this.  Today is my sainted mother’s birthday (hence the fine dining en masse), and my winning smile is due in no small part to her superb mothering skills and endless trips to the orthodontist on my behalf.  Thanks, Mom.  Sorry I kept losing my retainer.   Auntie Julie OUT.

Rest In Peace, Tippy. "This" Is Your Legacy.

March 5, Week 1, Day 5

Big sis and her brood showed up today for the weekend.  This could be a prime opportunity to avoid criticism, give sincere appreciation, and arouse some eager wants.  Fortunately for me, the under five crowd is perpetually bubbling over with eager wants, most of which can be fulfilled with sock puppets and a full sippy cup.  I’m anticipating that I will find it challenging to keep up with the Carnegie curriculum with five extra bodies in the house, but only the Lord and HR departments rest on the seventh day.

Closing in on the end of week one, I’m hoping to start getting into the real meat and miracle substance of Dale Carnegie’s opus.  Part Two, “Six Ways To Make People Like You” does not bode well.  People like me, dammit, I just need to get in the door!  Deep breath.  Oprah-inspired personal affirmation. And… I’m back.  My hackles resume a horizontal orientation with a return of the “This” gambit from the last chapter title. “Do This and You’ll Be Welcome Anywhere”. This “this” is exactly what I need- an open sesame to fling the doors of interview opportunity wide.

Carnegie warms up to his theme with yet another story from the animal kingdom; a story about the unconditional love he received from his boyhood dog, Tippy.   To hear him tell it, there never was a purer example of unconditional love.  Tippy was joyful.  Tippy was giving.  Tippy was killed when struck by lightening a mere ten feet from where the young Carnegie lay on the grass.  Anticipating where he’s going with this one is fruitless but entertaining.  Stay within a nine-foot radius of your owner at all times and you’ll be welcome anywhere?   No, what the dearly departed Tippy modeled so well in Carnegie’s view was a completely selfless and sincere interest in another.  I suspect the point would be more powerful without reference to the price Tippy paid for his vaunted loyalty, but I’m not the expert here.

Much is made of the importance of being sincere and genuine in one’s interest, which is quite the conundrum in my case.  I mean, I am sincerely interested in getting a job, and why someone may or may not be interested in hiring me for said job.  But I don’t think this counts.  The thing is, everything I want in a job has to do with being of service to others, whether as an educator or in the non-profit sector.  It reminds me of the interminable application process for the Peace Corps, and that daily dance with the fear that I might not even be able to give it away.  

I stood out on the pavement with my nephew this afternoon and watched him try to pedal a small tricycle through the several inches of snow and slush remaining even after a week of 40 degree temperatures.  The strip of pavement I was standing on was not only clear of slush, but bone dry, yet this flailing grunting little person was trying to blaze a trail through a narrow strip of slurry like a boy possessed.  He wasn’t interested in zipping around the predictable topography of wheel-friendly surfaces.  He wanted the challenge and the sense of accomplishment, and all he needed from me was that I stand and watch him do it, with as much absorption and “sincere interest” as I could muster.   I’d like to say I did it because I love him more than my next breath, which I do (and I did), but I also did it because he reminded me of myself; determined to do it the hard way, and needing someone else out there to care about what happens as much as we do.  

If I Let You Suck My Finger, Will You Follow Me Into The Barn?

March 4, Week 1, Day 4

I am drawn to Dale Carnegie’s certitude like Martha Stewart to decoupage.  Chicken or the egg?  Life after death?  This man has the answers, and he’s not afraid to declare it.   The title of Chapter 3, “He Who Can Do This Has The Whole World With Him.  He Who Cannot Walks A Lonely Way” instills me with a longing to be that definitive about anything, and suddenly very anxious that, unable to do the aforementioned “This”, I’ll be eternally condemned to walking “A Lonely Way”.   As I’ve come to expect, I’m hooked by the third sentence and hungry for more.

In customary “Fireside Chat” fashion, Carnegie gets right to the point.  To paraphrase, if you want to catch fish, don’t bait the hook with your favorite food (e.g. blueberry cobbler or baby back ribs).  Give the fish what they want (nightcrawlers a la mode).  Makes sense.   I may find my passion for continuing education and international travel inspiring, but chances are my prospective employers may be left wanting more from a candidate than “Have curiosity, will travel”.  I indulge in a brief fantasy where I stride into a boardroom in a fierce power suit, plant my hands on the mahogany conference table, and pin the executive director to her ergonomic chair with a laser-like gaze.  “It’s not that I want you to hire me”, I intone silkily, “it’s that I want the best for your organization.  And I, madam, am the best.”   I find this image slightly more galvanizing than his second analogy of the chapter involving the best way to get a calf into a barn.  You guessed it.  Pushing and pulling: bad.  Finger sucking:  good.  Graphic, but I get it.

I felt quite sure that Mr. Carnegie had already tested the limits of his carnality with this little barnyard gem, but then he kicked things up a notch.  He revealed that his chapter title is actually a quote from a man named Harry A. Overstreet, and that the compelling “This” it refers to, that thing that will keep me from walking the lonely way, is the ability to “arouse in the other person an eager want.”  And with this unveiling of Principle #3, he’s sounding less like Dale, and more like D.H. Lawrence, as I grow progressively less confident that I’ll be able to master this whole successful person protocol.  I’m pretty sure the only “eager want” I’ve managed to arouse in my prospective employers thus far is for me to stop emailing them to “inquire as to the status of my application”.   What am I supposed to do, attach a flier to my resume that reads “Blast Those Buns By Bikini Season (By Hiring Me)!!” and let the chips fall where they may?  If my ability to land a job is directly correlated to my aptitude at arousal, it may be time to start shopping for that sugar daddy.  I hear Burt Reynolds is single.

This depressing prospect (sorry, Burt, you’re just not my type), and my aversion to the not-so-subtle manipulation it advocates have resulted in a seriously flagging enthusiasm for Principle #3.  Fortunately, Carnegie references Henry Ford, who chimes in with a softer touch.  He credits his success to making an honest effort to see and understand someone else’s point of view, which feels much less “man-behind-the-curtain” and more palatable to an aspiring pacifist like myself.  I use the word “aspiring” because I am still prone to road rage, and will cheerfully string a bully up by his pinky toes if he knocks my nephew over on the playground.  I suspect I may be able to put this vigilante streak to good use should I ever be invited to play softball at the company picnic.  As the sun sets on yet another day of no job or interview offers, the possibility of that picnic feels as distant as Burt Reynolds’ April 1972 Cosmopolitan centerfold must feel to him.  But we can dream, can’t we Burt?

I Like Your Shoes, Now Give Me A Job

March 3, Week 1, Day 3

I have to confess, I’m really struggling to maintain an empty cup, beginner’s mind attitude with this whole thing.  Chapter 2 is called “The Big Secret For Dealing With People”, and in order to dive in and pluck these lush fruits of wisdom from their branches, I have to count myself amongst those who need help knowing how to deal with people.  For someone who as long considered “people skills” one of her strengths, this is very disheartening.  If I were good with people, and 85% of success depends upon it, then wouldn’t I have a job by now?  This equation is bringing me down, especially when pondered at the end of yet another day with no job interviews in sight.  Alas, there’s nothing to do but hoist up my britches and get on with it.  Even if I were Oprah frickin’ Winfrey, I’m sure I could learn a thing or two from a pioneer of self-help like Dale Carnegie.  Onward.

On yet another grey, rainy day full of uncertainties, Carnegie is refreshingly unequivocal in his stance that “there is only one way to get anyone to do anything”, and that is by making the person want to do what you want.   Hmm, for a moment I wonder if he’s going in the “Tom-Sawyer-getting-some-sucker-to-do-his-chores” direction, or taking a sordid detour into the machinations of Jim Jones and his killer Kool-Aid.  My trepidation is put to rest when he declaims tactics like threats, coercion, and violence as having “sharply undesirable repercussions”.   Um, is moral relativism more or less creepy than mass hypnosis?

Dale unveils the crux of the day’s lesson, which is that everyone wants to feel important, and people are much more likely to do what we want when they feel sincerely appreciated.  Morbid thought forms successfully short-circuited, I feel like I’ve found a concept I can sink my teeth into.   He tells us that we can identify the most meaningful sincere compliments by discovering those areas that are especially important to an individual, and praising them in some way.  “Tell me how you get your feeling of importance” Carnegie declares, “and I’ll tell you who you are.”  Okay, Dale, now you’re hitting a little close to the bone. 

In the spirit of Pollyanna and Tony Robbins, I have been trying to frame this time of prolonged transition in my life as an opportunity to figure out who I really am, without any external identification (no job, no intimate relationship, not even a sense of personal style, as I spend most days in heavy rotation between pajama and sweat pant variations).  Only I feel like now is the time in my life, my evolution, and my psychosocial development when I am supposed to be identifying with these things.  Realizing that ultimately I can’t take it with me and need to cultivate a rich inner life shouldn’t come for at least another twenty years or so.  In the absence of these thirtysomething hallmarks, I gain importance from making a story, a journey, and a lesson of this interminable time. I attempt to excavate meaning from the micro-happenings of each eternal day.  So what does that make me?  Hans Christian Anderson?  Margaret Meade?  A borderline schoziphrenic with invisible friends and delusions of grandeur?  (Of course, Carnegie relates that George Washington wanted to be referred to as “His Mightiness, the President of the United States, so at least I’m in good company on that one.)

I try not to get sidetracked by brainstorming what a sincere compliment to a storytelling excavator with schizophrenia might sound like (“My, you’ve got the landing gear for your space ship working smoothly.  The Chiron library is so lucky to have you for a story hour!”).  Not too difficult, since Carnegie drops yet another chilling morsel in my lap.  A bit more casually than the statement (and my preoccupation with my own mental health) warrants, he reveals that “some authorities declare that people may actually go insane in order to find, in the dreamland of insanity, the feeling of importance that has been denied them in the harsh world of reality.”  It is too easy to make the connection here (“Look at me, I’m jobless and it’s making me nuts, see!  Are you looking?!”), and it’s doing nothing for my morose mood.  One minute I’m just a novice blogger with job stress, and the next minute I’m Mrs. Rochester, or one of the Edies from Grey Gardens.  Carnegie urges us to build the self-esteem of others to realize success, but my own whimpering ego just took another punch to the crotch.  Principle #2 (“Give honest and sincere appreciation”) is proving quite the pisser.

Carnegie warns against confusing appreciation, which “comes from the heart” with flattery, which comes “from the teeth out”.  It’s all about sincerity.  “Try leaving a friendly trail of little sparks of gratitude on your daily trips!”, he trills.  I may be flirting with psychosis, and less sure of myself than I was when I started this chapter, I but I know I can do this.   Why just today, I heartily assured my little brother that he has what it takes to pass his drug test for work.  And I wasn’t even trying to get anything out of him!  Could “motivational speaker” be my true destiny?   My self-esteem pulls itself upright on wobbly knees, and juts its chin like a prize fighter.  Principle #3, here I come.   

My Hair Clip Is Giving Me A Headache And Other Complaints I Am (Now) Keeping to Myself)- March 2nd, Week 1, Day 2

Today began my official foray into the tried and true Carnegie method.  Just pages into the introduction, I’d already learned a new term- “human engineering”.  This refers to “personality and the ability to lead people”, and according to Dale Carnegie it makes up 85% of what determines professional success (actual technical knowledge making up a puny 15%). 

This prompted two simultaneous streams of anxious mind chatter.  Stream #1:  Since I am currently UNsuccessful at landing a job, does this mean that I’m bad with people?  I do resent being approached by salespeople at retail outlets of any kind, ruthlessly screen my calls, and get very snippy with automated voice prompts when dealing with my wireless provider.  Is this my Achilles heel?   Stream #2:  Maybe this IS my strength and THAT’S the problem, as I am currently stalled out in the relentless self-promotion vortex of resumes and cover letters.  True, my resume reads more like a “Things To Do Before I Die” manifesto than an inventory of professional prowess, but I am an interview kind of person.  I imitate body language and tone of voice, maintain good posture, and don’t shy away from direct eye contact.  But I can’t work the room if I can’t get in the door.  Dammit, Dale, what now?

In researching this book, Mr. Carnegie interviewed the most successful people of the day, from FDR to Clark Gable, attempting to ferret out the common denominator for getting ahead and staying there.  Based on his findings, he created a fourteen-week course, and this book as its primary text.  I am attempting to harvest the fruits of his labor in a mere fourteen days, but I am banking on the fact that much of what was revelatory back then has become institutionalized in our culture since.  Carnegie recommends “a vigorous campaign of review and application” to get the most out of this book.  I am modifying that to “a moderate attempt at daily perusal” to better suit my current temperament.  Today, for example, it was all I could do not to surrender the interval between sunrise to sunset to an unpleasant cold virus, and the ghastly pall of the rejection letter I got yesterday.  Baby steps.

Chapter 1 is entitled “If You Want To Gather Honey, Don’t Kick Over the Beehive”, which he distills at the end of the chapter into Principle 1:  “Don’t Criticize, Condemn, or Complain”.  He uses “Two Gun” Crowley and Al Capone to illustrate the idea that people don’t tend to criticize or blame themselves for anything, so there is little to be gained by aiming critique at them, because they’ll never own up.   Does this point to some seismic psychological shift that’s happened in the last seventy years?  Self-loathing has become so commonplace it’s practically cliché- isn’t that what keeps Dr. Phil in business? On a bad day, I tend to blame myself for everything from my dad’s arterial plaque to the national debt.  There is a gem here though, in addition to the idea that applying these principles to my relationship with myself may not be a bad idea.  Carnegie encourages us to lead with curiosity rather than criticism.  Attempt to find out why someone may be behaving the way that they are, rather than condemning right off the bat.  Good one.

I think I can manage to avoid criticizing or condemning most of the time, and I’ve never considered myself a big complainer, so Principle 1 was shaping up to be a pretty smooth ride.  Except for the fact that on days like today, when the sky looks like lead and my Inbox is a yawning void, with nary an interview request in sight, complaining feels like scratching some subcutaneous itch.  On days like this, I want a God with a beehive hairdo and false eyelashes who will chomp on a wad of fruity gum and say, “Mmm hmm, you poor sweet baby, life’s just kickin’ you in the teeth ain’t it?  Let me make you a Coke float” while I moan about the oatmeal I spilled on my robe, the $3 service charge from the ATM, and the headache I got from my drug store hair clip.  I guess I’ll just keep those thoughts between me and my truck stop waitress version of God, at least for the next two weeks.

March 1st- Week 1, Day 1

I had a date with the bottom of a river today.  When I moved back to my parents’ house in December to get my bearings and look for a “grown-up job” after a year and a half in India, I told them that if I was still here by March, they could find me at the bottom of the river.  These were not the words of a suicidal depressive, but the glib dramatics of a self-assured thirtysomething with little understanding of the words “job crisis”.  I am, generally, a person of my word, but I have no desire to end my life, or even catch the sniffles by taking a dip in the Shenandoah when there’s still snow on the ground.  But I am taking the implications of this day seriously.  Time has not stood still, and a lot has happened in the last three months.  Haiti.  Chile.  The Winter Olympics.  And my brother, the recovering alcoholic with a police record, got a job.

My interview clothes (I am now the proud owner of what, for the first time in my 34 years, might be defined as a “blouse”) are pressed and hanging in my closet.  I have a black leather padfolio crammed with extra copies of my resume and references, and crib notes for questions like “What are your greatest weaknesses?” and “Why are you the best person for the job?”   I’ve got a dozen applications out there making their way through the sludge-filled channels of HR, and every day I fight the urge to call my prospective employers and wail “Please Please Puhleeeeze, I’ll do ANYTHING!”  I may not be at the bottom of the river today, but man am I trying to like hell to push its lazy ass into the sea.  Morning meditation and yoga notwithstanding, going with the flow is most definitely on my list of “greatest weaknesses”.  Clearly, I could I be doing more, and what I have been doing thus far has been unspeakably wrong.  

I spent most of today, forcing myself to breathe deeply from the diaphragm, and avoiding the overwhelming urge to cruise last minute airfares to Nicaragua on the internet.  I have decided to give my current campaign (finding an age and experience-appropriate job in the northeastern United States) two more weeks before I radically change course, coasts, or countries.  Two weeks to at least land a promising interview.  One thing is clear.  I cannot continue as I have for the last, oh God, ninety days, and expect a different outcome (I’m not Einstein, but I have his poster).  As I drifted into the den of my parents’ gracious colonial, surpressing hysteria and numbly flashing forward to my inevitable years as an impecunious spinster cruising the Save-A-Lot for dates, my eye caught on the maroon spine of a slender paperback book.  The words   “Win”, “Friends” and “Influence” drew my gaze like Speidy to reality T.V..  Sliding the book off the shelf, I recognized it as my dad’s much beloved copy of Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People.

 My dad used to be a toilet paper salesman in Memphis, and now he’s an accomplished lawyer who was able to put four children through college without the need for student loans (or scholarships, praise Jesus).  He is devoted to HTWF&IP’s wisdom, and effusive in his respect for Carnegie.  Since I’m far beyond where Oprah could ever save me, and grasping at straws (even straws from 1936, before they’d even invented the bendy kind), I decide to make How To Win Friends and Influence People the secret weapon in my two-week campaign to knock those depressing unemployment statistics down by one tenacious single white female.   I will begin each day by reading a hefty chunk of this volume (the revised edition, circa 1981), then attempt to apply these nuggets of wisdom to my current life circumstances.  This will present its own challenges, since my current life circumstances revolve around the twenty-three wooded acres of my ancestral home and a rigorous napping schedule.  Nonetheless, I will persevere.  Or rather, I will keep persevering just a little bit longer, so I don’t have to bury my dreams like the corpse of a geriatric family pet in the back yard quite yet.  Shall we, Mr. Carnegie?