The Career Clinic Blog

Would you like to learn how to turn a long weekend into a new career? Get free advice from an executive at FranklinCovey? Are you in the market for tips on handling sticky situations at work? Would you like suggestions for leading your boss, motivating your employees, infusing your workplace with humor, and telling anyone…anything?

Then listen up. Thanks to our friends at AM 1100, The Career Clinic talk show is available on podcast. We put a lot of work into the program, all of us (hi, and special thanks, to Dustin Moore)…and the advice, if I do say so myself, never goes out of style.

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Does your work history look more like the route a school bus takes than an expressway to anywhere? Mine does.

Babysitter. Beverage girl. Grocery bagger. Bakery gal. Draftsman (I was going to say draftsperson but it sounded like something you’d put in front of a door to keep the cold air out). Construction worker. Railroad design engineer in training. Manufacturing plant manager in training. Telephone technician manager. Marketing manager. Communications account representative. Telephone operator. Tax research salesperson. Natural gas salesperson. Freelance writer. Cocktail waitress. Radio advertising salesperson. Radio news reporter in training. Classified ads representative. Radio news reporter. Mom. Freelance journalist. Book author. Motivational speaker. Talk show host. Blogger.

Career consultant Anne Headley got me to thinking about all the different jobs I’ve had, in a comment she made here. I used to kind of wilt when I pondered the meandering I’ve done, wondering if it would add up to anything. Now that I have the privilege of hosting The Career Clinic and blogging, it makes sense. So does my preoccupation with saving stories.

Why is it that most of my favorite work memories have to do with things going, or about to go, very wrong? Take, “Telephone technician manager.” I type that job title, and suddenly I’m fresh out of college again, in charge of a dozen or so telephone company technicians. I use the words “in charge” loosely, though not as loosely as my direct reports did. It took them, every last seasoned (read: jaded) one of them, several months to warm up to me. The in-between was, shall we say, hell.

I can still remember the first catastrophe we had in telephone companyland. I can still see the technician who barked at me as I reached for--what?--a box with some wires in it. “Don’t you touch that thing!” he screamed. “You don’t know nothin'!”

That’s good advice, I’ve since decided, for new hires supposedly in charge of people who know what they’re doing. Keep your distance until you’re one of them. People who know what they’re doing, that is.

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Would you like some free advice about your resume? Then please send me your questions by Thursday, February 4th. Career consultant Vicki Brackett will be my guest on The Career Clinic soon after that, and she'll answer those questions during the program. We won't use your name, or anything else that would identify you, on the air.

Vicki's like so many other career consultants who say resumes are an overrated part of the job hunt. Then again, they're still widely used as calling cards--and you'll want yours to sparkle.

Hope we can help!

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"I think it's great how much you and your husband love to run," a tennis mom told me one afternoon. I looked over my shoulder to see the person she was talking with. "Who, me?" I finally asked. "We don't love to run," I told her. "But you do it almost every day," she said. True. Though I can't remember the last time I didn't dread hitting the track, or the side of the road. Especially now that it's winter. It takes a long time to put on enough layers to stay warm, and sometimes I do things in the wrong order. I'll forget to put on my headphones before I don my headband, baseball cap, scarf, hooded jacket, and another scarf to keep them all in place--and have to start over.

I also can't remember the last time I skipped a workout. I haven't changed how I feel about working out, but I've changed the way I feel about the way I feel--thanks to a daytime television talk show. Someone in the audience complained about how much she hated to exercise. "You don't have to like it," the advice dispenser offered.

Good point. So I don't like running. So what? I do it, and I love the way I feel afterward and even occasionally during. Maybe you've heard it called eating the frog. Do what you dread most, first. The rest of the day will be easier. Darrell and I breakfast on that frog, then come home to warm showers and the good feeling of the best health insurance money can't buy.

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Nah, this you have to hear to believe how cute it is!

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Once upon a time, I wished for a class on how to make a life transition. I'd never heard of anything like that, but I found it in a two-week workshop given by Dick Bolles, author of What Color Is Your Parachute? One thing Dick taught me was, "If you're not having fun you're not doing it right." It made me wonder if I'd approached life backwards. I thought you were supposed to work hard, save a lot of money, and if someday you had the luxury of having fun, well, good for you. It never occurred to me that life was supposed to be much fun until "someday."

I was wrong. Realizing that changed everything. Suddenly it was okay to take my dreams seriously, and it was exhilarating.

I dreamed up The Career Clinic radio show at that Parachute workshop, and sometimes I refer to Dick as the person who taught me everything I'm still learning. I learn a lot from the guests on my program, too. They often suggest that if you want to be happy, hang around someone who is--and take notes. The more successful people are, in my experience anyway, the more they love to tell you how they became that way. Sure, you can hire a career counselor--I know a lot of good ones!--or go to a workshop or retreat. But a lot of great advice is yours, simply for the asking. Don't be shy. Do be a good listener--it's the best gift, and a sweet way to make someone glad they're investing time in you.

The world may or may not be your oyster, but it can certainly be your classroom.

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