Change One Thing
It’s been almost four years since I swapped the glamour of a high-flying PR job for the permanent chaos of being a stay-at-home Mum. But back in the days when I had a “real” job, one with an actual salary and a boss who didn’t wear diapers, I used to have a guilty secret. Filing Bulimia. Meaning I had a filing/purge disorder.
I was trapped in an angst-ridden pattern of paper despair and it went like this: I’d come back from a mid-morning coffee break to find the CEO’s mail on my desk. One of my duties as his PA was to open his mail, toss the junk, respond to the stuff that didn’t need his input, and place the rest in his in-tray. This part was easy. The challenge came when he would invariably store up all this correspondence, and then routinely dump it on my desk, along with every other conceivable piece of vaguely-office-related paper, once every three months.
He’d always wait until I was away from my desk before depositing his paper mountain there. My heart would sink as soon as I saw it, and this was my first mistake. I’d let the overwhelming nature of the task get me down before I’d even begun to tackle it. But this is only the tip of the iceberg. Invariably I’d already be strung out on some other pressure-filled deadline, so I’d open my mini-filing cabinet and stash the filing there, telling myself I’d tackle it as soon as my deadline was met and I had a spare moment.
Of course, as anyone who’s ever worked for an entrepreneur will know, those “spare moments” never come. There’s always a drama, a deadline, a reason why the non-urgent thing never gets done.
But then comes the dark day when a wealthy shareholder drops into the office unexpectedly, and the CEO starts ordering you around with a wild look in his eye, indicating just a little of the pressure he himself feels in the presence of such a powerful VIP. And after you’ve made coffee just the way the VIP likes it, and dashed at break-neck speed to the nearest store for those posh French biscuits that the CEO demands, he’ll then, invariably, call on you to have to hand over an extremely important piece of paper, which you know you ought to know the exact whereabouts of.
You’ll suppress the blind panic and try to appear cool and collected, as you nod knowingly as if to say “Why yes! That contract is in my impeccably neat and organized filing system, I’ll have it for you in three shakes of a lamb’s tail.” Then you’ll almost break an ankle running for the filing cabinet as fast as your legs can carry you. You’ll break out in a cold sweat at the realization that you don’t even know where the key to the filing cabinet is, and you’ll consider breaking down in tears and confessing your failings as a filer, but think better of it when you spot the CEO thundering down the hallway, gunning for you and communicating with his furious expression alone that he needs that piece of paper YESTERDAY. You’ll feign surprise at not being able to locate it, and cringe when you realize it’s in your secret pile of filing, which means you’re going to have to let the CEO see your guilty stash.
I’ll leave this story here because it’s making me feel ill just recalling it, but you get the point. Filing Bulimia afflicted me throughout my glittering PR career. I would starve myself of filing time, trying to ignore the growing pile in my personal filing cabinet. It would overspill from there, and I’d stash confidential documents inside magazines tucked away on my desk. Then suddenly one day the pressure would become all too much and I’d cave, and go on an almighty filing binge. At its worst, this saw me carting home boxes of filing on a Friday night, only to spend the weekend weeping, surrounded by important paperwork. I would spend hours of my own time sorting it out. I’d feel cleansed and purged of my filing demons, and would vow never to let the filing get so out of hand again.
And so the cycle continued.
Ironically, by the time I did eventually get round to tackling the filing, most of it would have to be trashed, having had a timeline or a schedule on it that meant it wasn’t worth keeping past a certain point.
I now realize most of my filing problem stemmed from the fact that my CEO was obsessive about paper. He wouldn’t throw anything away, but since there wasn’t a filing system known to man that could accommodate his paper-kleptomania, I ended up with a morbid fear of filing. Heck, he once even gave me a paper napkin to file, on which he’d drawn an architectural sketch during a business lunch. I couldn’t work out whether to file it under ‘s’ for sketches, ‘a’ for architecture, or ‘n’ for napkin. In fact I’ve often wondered what I did with that, and whether he ever laid eyes on it again.
The first chance I got, I offloaded the filing onto someone more junior and hopefully more organized than me. But in the process I learned this: if we could change just one thing about the way we work, we could be infinitely more productive, and happier to boot.
If this sounds trite perhaps it is, but I’m convinced it’s also true. The truth is I’m still lacking a little coordination in the organizational department. I no longer have to file multimillion dollar contracts, but I still manage to lose important detritus from my daily role on a regular basis. I can never locate the baby nail clippers when my boys’ little fingers become dangerous weapons. I have laundry bulimia in the extreme; I hide lone socks in the laundry cupboard and only tackle reuniting them with their missing partner when the boys no longer have a single matching pair in the house. I’m a procrastinator about these things; it’s a fact.
But it’s also true that when we allow these things, be they laundry landscapes or filing mountains, to become so big that we can’t see our way round them, we’ve truly lost perspective.
We can start to worry about how we’ll ever overcome them, and the pressure begins to eat into other happier aspects of our lives or jobs. No matter how good we are at our jobs, we all have areas in which we know we can improve, or important elements of our work (like filing!) which get neglected because of more urgent priorities but which can then so easily become unnecessarily overwhelming.
I’ll never forget the time I was able to lay my hands on a multimillion dollar contract within seconds of being asked for it, and I still get the same kick out of being able to locate a pair of socks or the boys’ shoes as we battle to get out of the door in time for preschool.
The solution is surprisingly simple: change one thing. Today. Be honest with yourself. Take a measured look at the part of your job or daily routine that causes you the most stress. It’s usually something fairly small or unimportant in theory, because it’s the little, non-urgent things that we overlook in favour of tackling the big priorities in life. But left too long, those overlooked elements of your day start to loom large, until they dwarf the priorities you put them off for in the first place. I think these things are true no matter what your career path or walk of life, whether you’re the CEO or the tea-lady. We all have things we put off, which, if left too long, can haunt us. I guarantee you can make one small change that will reap a big reward.
Write down what you’re going to change and stick it somewhere prominent. Be realistic. Don’t shoot for the moon. Aim small and surprise yourself.
Give yourself a reward when you’ve done it — whatever it takes to help you follow through. And when you’ve tackled this, turn your mind to what you can change tomorrow.
When I was a little kid my Dad would always coax me down from a place of childish panic with a reminder that cucumbers would be very difficult to eat if we attempted to swallow them whole. “Much better to cut it into little slices and enjoy the pieces one by one,” he said. And to this day I apply this logic in several areas of my life. I can start small, by changing one thing today.
Which is why, right now, I’m going to put yesterday’s laundry away, so it doesn’t taunt me all week when I’m looking for clean socks as we’re dashing out the door.
Entrepreunership, Those Who Fear Failure Need Not Apply
Have you ever found yourself dreading Monday morning? Do you daydream at your desk about being your own boss? Is there an idea or a burgeoning business venture that you’d just love to develop, if only you had the time, money and believed in yourself? If so, I’m here to tell you to stop dreaming and start acting on those latent entrepreneurial urges.
So where do you start? It’s impossible to offer a one-size-fits-all guide to going self-employed but answering these three key questions can help get anyone started on the road to running your own business.
1. Do you have what it takes?
The first step to becoming a successful entrepreneur involves weighing up whether you have what it takes to run your own business. This means making a painfully honest assessment of yourself. A word of caution: there is no point faking the answer to this question. If you don’t have the kind of self-motivation needed, you are only going to set yourself up for disaster further down the line.
Someone once told me that successful business people display these common traits: a strong positive motivation for starting the business, key entrepreneurial characteristics such as determination and perseverance, key personal skills such as the ability to plan and problem solve and the business knowledge and acumen to make their idea work. Successful business people also make effective use of their resources, contacts and networks of support.
It’s important to remember that entrepreneurs are made, not born. While some people do just naturally possess entrepreneurial skills and characteristics by the bucket load, others must acquire them — and many do. (Which is a nice way of saying that if you haven’t got what it takes you are not ruled out of the game but you have your work cut out for you.)
Running a business is an ongoing process of learning and reflection. I once worked for a thirty-something entrepreneur who ran not one but two very successful businesses. More than anyone else for whom I’ve worked, this guy encouraged — almost provoked me — to step out of my comfort zone and reach for new challenges and opportunities within my work.
He effectively promoted me to a role to which I was ill-experienced and while he made it clear that he was taking a chance on me, he also encouraged me to make his faith in me worthwhile. When I confessed to feeling somewhat out of my depth and inadequate, he laughed as he let me into the only business secret I’ve ever really needed to know: Everyone feels this way, or at least has done at some stage in their career. Everyone! Even the senior colleague who dresses well and shines at what she does? She feels it, too.
The key is to keep a little dose of that self-doubt tucked in your pocket, just enough to keep you grounded. It becomes a case of feel and understand the fear and do it anyway.
A Global Entrepreneur Monitor report in 2003 found that one third of the female population let the fear of failure stop them from starting a business?
And let’s be real, businesses do fail, sometimes at a great personal cost. But there are simple safe guards, which can help you to create a stable, profitable business and by following them you stand a strong chance of success. And if the worse does happen, you’ll be one of the brave few who have the satisfaction of knowing you felt the fear and did it anyway. That has to feel better than regret at never having taken the risk, or a life-long case of the what-might-have-beens.
So look yourself in the mirror and ask yourself the important questions. Have I got what it takes? And why do I want to run my own business?
If it’s so that no one will give you grief when you’re late for work, the chances are your motivation for going self-employed is a little askew. Sure, there are benefits to being your own boss, but there are a lot of additional challenges and pressures that come with self-employment, too. It can also help to list out the pros and cons of going self-employed and then weigh them up against each other carefully.
2. Got a viable business idea?
If you decide you’ve got what it takes, the next step is to work out whether your business idea has legs. A great idea is not necessarily a great business. This is where writing a business plan comes into play. But before you even put pen to paper, you need to engage in some thorough market research. The goal is to establish whether there’s a market for your idea and to make sure it hasn’t already been done.
You want to identify your customers and find out as much as you can. You need to understand who your competitors are and decide if you can get ahead of them by offering something unique that they can’t. In the early stages a business plan is less about “selling” your idea to potential investors and more about enabling yourself to scope out the idea as realistically as possible. It’s where the rubber hits the road.
It seems stupidly obvious, but remember that a business is essentially about selling a product or service. It’s vital that you know what you’re selling, for how much, to whom, and the how, when and why of it all.
3. Got the money?
You have to spend money to make money, or so the old saying goes. Unless you’re sitting on a goldmine, chances are you’re going to have to go into debt in order to go into business. In fact, it surprises me that would-be business owners are more afraid of failure than they are of the financial ramifications. It’s the money bit that scares me. However, good, well-researched business propositions, put together by people with the right skills, are likely to attract funding.
If there are specific characteristics of an entrepreneur, then good financial planning skills are the backbone of a successful business. Even when a business fails, the damage can be significantly reduced with good, pre-emptive financial planning. I’d never used an accounting spreadsheet in my life until a few months ago but now I can knock up a cash flow forecast in under an hour. The good news is you can learn good financial planning.
I’m a firm believer that going freelance or starting a small business is easier than we assume. Fear is a crippling factor but it’s not a good enough reason not to go for it. Make the most of the security of a steady income to plan ahead for the rougher terrain that being self-employed brings. To conclude, here are my top three tips for making it as a female entrepreneur:
As it says in the “Good Book”: Do Not Be Discouraged. I’ve learned first-hand that people will always rain on your parade. Sometimes people genuinely want to help you to avoid making costly mistakes, but sometimes people just don’t like seeing others succeed. Take any advice you are offered, always say a sincere thank you for it, but never let it divert you from the courage of your convictions.
Find a mentor if you can. People love being asked for advice and successful businessmen and women are usually only too happy to talk about their experiences. Why risk making your own mistakes when you can learn from other people?
Read; feed your inspiration, not your fear. There’s nothing like a business success story for stoking the coals of your own business dream. They say forewarned is forearmed, and a cautionary tale can be just as valuable in helping prevent you from making mistakes.
And just in case you think all this is easy for me to say, I’ll let you in on one more secret. My father used to run his own business. He thrived on the experience and enjoyed success, but in the end the business crashed and burned, and he came close to losing everything. It’s a sobering tale. It took my parents years to claw their way out of the debt they accrued in the process. True, he’s not rich beyond his wildest dreams, but somehow I suspect he learned and gained more from the experience than he ever would have, had the business “worked.” But, I’ll never think of him as anything other than an entrepreneurial success. I admire and respect him for the risks he took and the steps he made to rebuild himself and our family. Furthermore, I credit him with having inspired me to bang on the door of my own business, without being stymied by the fear of failure. If that’s what failing means, I only hope to fail myself one day.
The Lost Art of Handwriting a Letter
Do you remember the last time you received a handwritten note? I do. I had just crashed through the door, out of breath and frayed around the edges from the exertion of pushing two small boys uphill in a buggy with a wonky wheel.
There on the doormat, in my dear friend Hen’s unmistakable cursive script, was an envelope addressed to me. Even seeing my name in her spiraling print brings a smile to my face; such an antidote to the pile of bills and junk mail, a waste of trees on which so often my name is incorrectly spelled.
Hen is adept at the lost art of letter writing. She needs no excuse to write, and often does so “just because.” Her choice of card is always guaranteed to make me laugh out loud. I have a growing collection of little notes gathering dust in a cherished shoebox in my room, many of which begin with the immortal line “I saw this and thought of you …”
All this from the mother of a toddler who gets up at 4 a.m. to go to a demanding job in journalism. I’m inspired and challenged by her in this regard, because how often do we think of people whose lives have taken them just out of reach of daily contact, and yet isn’t it the case that we so rarely make the time to let them know they danced across our thoughts? What a shame. Hen’s gift in this regard is impressive, and I appreciate it beyond words. But … I don’t think I’ve ever told her this.
So there’s my case in point. How many thoughts or gestures do we abandon which, if thoughtfully transformed into a hand-scribbled note might just have touched someone else’s day? And all because we tell ourselves we’re too time-pressed to use our words.
On the other hand, when was the last time an e-mail touched your heart? Don’t get me wrong, e-mail has its uses. I’ve made transatlantic friends thanks to the wonder of the blogosphere, one of whom I even have to thank for linking me up with thesavvygal.com, and if it weren’t for e-mail we wouldn’t be able to share our lives cross-continent in the satisfying ways we do.
Sometimes, too, my husband e-mails me a quirky note, knowing I am never far from my beloved laptop. The ping of a personal e-mail, winging its way through cyberspace to brighten up my tantrum-filled day (I’m referring to my beloved toddlers here, not me) is a lovely thing, and likewise my mother-in-law’s fabulous private comments on my blog are the stuff of legend, and often hold they key to my sanity.
But still. There’s something special about a personally written note. My husband has a favorite fountain pen; it’s his tool of choice for writing letters. A couple of years ago our lives passed through some stormy waters, and for all the heart-felt tear-strewn talking that we did, nothing signaled the end of the storm quite like the poignant letter that he wrote for me with his favorite pen. That note has pride of place on my dressing table, and I re-read it at least once a month.
Sometimes I still lose sight of the sentiment that he took time to put into words. At those moments, I re-read his letter, and it grows in depth and meaning every time I read it. An e-mail just wouldn’t be the same, and the nuances of a conversation would have been forgotten long ago.
Around the same time I began a new tradition of writing him a letter every New Year’s Eve, and apart from giving him the pieces of my heart, weighted down to earth with my words, the process also served to help me reflect on what I feel for him. As much as it touched him, it also helped me to focus on the important stuff of life that all too easily gets overlooked or goes unsaid.
And at its heart, that’s the real value of the lost art of letter writing. It’s less about what we say, and more about the fact that we’ve invested time to communicate. If you’ve ever been the lucky recipient of a child’s scribbled picture, you’ll understand what I’m getting at; it’s not the detail that matters, impressive though it might be, but it’s the fact that someone thought of us, and took the time to convey their affection.
Julia Cameron puts it like this in “The Right to Write,” her seminal guide to carving out time to communicate in the old fashioned way: “Taking the time to write in our lives gives us the time of our lives. As we describe our environments, we begin to savor them. Even the most rushed and pell-mell life begins to take on the patina of being cherished.”
While Cameron is specifically referring to her “morning pages” exercise, which involves writing daily for 30 minutes, the principle of what she says applies to letter writing, too. When we make time to say “I thought of you today,” we somehow become more mindful of the things and people who matter.
So with this in mind, I’m here to encourage you to unleash your inner letter-writer. I’m throwing down the gauntlet and setting you a challenge; take Julia Cameron’s sage advice and try this simple exercise in putting pen to paper. I’m sure it will raise a smile somewhere, and maybe even come back to you full circle when an envelope in a familiar print lands with a satisfying swoosh on a doormat near you sometime soon.
Buy five postcards and five stamps. Locate the addresses of five people you love but don’t take time to stay in touch.
Set the clock for fifteen minutes. Using two to three minutes per card, write out loving greetings to your friends.
Stamp the cards and mail them.
Go on, do it. Do it now.


