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?