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?
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