I Start a New Job Tomorrow

Tomorrow feels like the first day of school. For the first time in over a decade, I am starting a new job.

So long, old life! You were strange and sometimes wonderful.

My head is spinning. I'm curious about every little thing that's going to happen to me tomorrow. And I guess that's the source of my anxiety today…not that I think I can't do this, but rather, right now, I can't even picture my tomorrow.

I've spent much of today just trying to imagine what my new desk will look like, and what we'll talk about at lunch time.

(What will I talk about at lunch time? People seem to think I'm fun, but not everyone gets me at first.  My plan is to just be nice and see what these people are like. They're a creative bunch, so these should be my kind of people, right? … See--I'm not going to get any sleep tonight.)

The last time I started a new job, I still lived with my parents, didn't know how to drive car, and wore long, straight hair down to my butt. (I brushed it to death, every morning.) I was a 22-year-old, and a very young one at that. I didn't know how to sound like an adult on the phone or contribute to a meeting.

But over the next decade, I'd learn how to run meetings, hire good people, and make sure great people could succeed. So this time, with a whole phase of my career under my belt, I'm going in to my new job as someone who's supposed to be an expert.

Sometimes I feel nervous about that. It's a lot of pressure.

Other times, I feel a sense of relief--because I chose this job because it's what I'm good at doing.

I guess there's nothing left to do right now except go to bed and wake up curious but ready.

Wish me luck!

How I Grocery Shop When I'm Sad vs. How I Grocery Shop When I'm Happy. See Also: Leaving on a High Note

How I Grocery Shop When I'm Sad:

(It might go something like this.)

Where do they hide the boxes of bread crumbs? Ugh. I just want to get out of here. People walk too slow. Why are there so many PEOPLE?! And look, every register has a line. Geez. Dummies, everywhere! I don't even want this stupid food! ARGHH!

How I Grocery Shop When I'm Happy:

(This happened today.)

Mmm, look at these beautiful lemons! They smell so good, too! I'm going to buy some. I wonder what recipes have lemons in them. I'm going to start cooking more. That sounds really nice. I want to try one of these over here! Mmmm!

…

What I mean to say is, when I'm sad, the world seems too irritating to endure. Every exhausting timesuck--lines, traffic, plaque buildup, dirty laundry, soap scum, dust, work, meetings, car repairs, other human beings. It's all such a drain.

But when I'm happy, the world is bright and exciting. There are new things to see, limitless experiences to have, and I actually like other humans. Instead of feeling like, "Why is this happening to me?" I feel like, "I get to do this!"

Right now I'm very happy, because I am in love, and also because I quit my job.

I think I quit it just in time, because I've been burning out for a while. It recently hit me that while 70% of my work is my dream job, I am no longer able to tolerate the remaining 30% and remain a happy person.

I become a dick.

I walk around my workplace hoping that no one will share their ideas with me. I hope that I will be excused from meetings. I hope events will be cancelled. I hole up in my office. I get easily frustrated. I try to go unnoticed. Mostly, I rush around, because I want to finish my work and be done with it, but everyone else gets in my way.

But since I submitted my resignation and two weeks notice, I've been reminded of some of the things that helped me love my job for over a decade. Those "things" are mostly people, which is interesting since I get to work with animals.

Today was one of my final days at my job, and I was stunned by all the kindness I received, and from unexpected sources. I got sweet emails, heartfelt hugs, cards, tokens of friendship and even baked goods.

Before long, I felt like I was walking on air. I was so happy--I could smell the sweetness in every lemon, to go back to my grocery store example.  Suddenly, faced with the realization that I had no reason to ever see these people again, I wanted to hear everything they had to say. I wanted them to tell me their stories. I wanted to remember them. I suddenly felt like I had all the time in the world to sit with the people I've been lucky enough to meet.

It's all so sweet, it makes me wish I hadn't resigned.

But if I hadn't quit, I'd be a different person this week. I'd be rushing around. I'd be impatient. I'd be a bit of a dick.

So I'm going to take all of these happy feelings and leave my job on a high note. I'm so happy that I met so many amazing people, and got to be a part of so many truly cool projects.

And I'm glad I'm leaving before I got too jaded and mean and see it that way.

I'm out! 

How 53 Chickens Made Me Feel Better

I love you, Chicken. 

I didn't feel ready for the world on Tuesday morning.

The cat and I uncurled at the sound of the alarm, but the space beyond my bed seemed too harsh, too unsympathetic -- a grinding sameness that I had not signed on for. There was nothing I could do but resort to autopilot and plod into my morning routine.

When I got to work, I approached the door gingerly, hoping to ease myself into another long day. But almost immediately, a surprise sound echoed through the building -- a piercing, perfect, cock-a-doodle-doo.

I burst out laughing.

This week, the organization that I work for was called to assist in the rescue of 61 birds. This is how I came to meet 53 chickens for the very first time.

That Tuesday morning, those of us who "had some spare time" were invited to help with the mass cleaning of chicken cages. I wanted to laugh at that suggestion. We're not an organization that allows spare time, and the weight of relentless deadlines was part of what had made the day feel so daunting when I woke up. Still, chicken-cage-cleaning sounded like an adventure I couldn't pass up.

The chickens had arrived in poor health, and you could see lice crawling all over their faces and feathers. The chickens smelled terrible -- a sweet, sweaty, garbage scent.

I followed instructions to put on scrubs and to wear a new pair of rubber gloves between each chicken. Then, I got to either wipe out soiled cages or take on the fantastic job of holding chickens.

Holding chickens -- in some cases, impressive, imposing-looking roosters -- is much easier than picking one up. I have yet to successfully do that. Their wings can break if you struggle with them, so, terrified that I'd break a chicken, I'd panic and back off as soon as they started to squirm.

One time, I came close to pulling a rooster out of the top of a two-story pen. But, he spun wildly and struggled against my face. I quickly placed him back down -- but after that, I smelled like chicken for the rest of the day. An oily, smelly sheen was  smeared across my cheek and clothes.

However, none of this is meant to be read as a complaint. Once one of my co-workers would hand me a chicken, I'd hold him and feel mesmerized. Each time, the chickens would struggle and fuss and then, properly pinned against my chest and supported underneath, they'd surrender. From there, I could feel the warmth of their bodies in my arms. I could feel their hearts beating against mine.

I learned how to soothe a flustered chicken by gently stroking  its head or chin. Sometimes, my co-workers and I would find ourselves unconsciously swaying as we held our chickens, as though we were rocking babies. My friend Christy held a chicken that nestled into her bosom. He lay his head across Christy's chest and slowly closed his eyes.

After a while, Christy and I walked her sleepy chicken and my restless chicken over to a window.  Both chickens craned their necks in focused curiosity, eager to see what was going on outside. Christy and I looked at each other in shared delight. She said, "They're looking out the window." The chickens were scared, confused, and not feeling well. It meant something to us that we were giving them a small but meaningful moment.

The chickens are all headed to local farm sanctuaries, where they'll spend their lives clucking and crowing and eating and digging in hay.

I'm really glad I got to meet them. I'd love to work with chickens again. Now that I've mastered chicken-holding, I'd like to practice chicken-picking-up.

Once again, I find that the best way to recover from sadness is to help someone who's worse off than yourself.

See what it looked (and sounded) like to clean the chicken cages:

How to Introduce Your New Dog to Your Cranky Cat

(I wrote this article for Animal Friends' blog, but I'll put it here, too!)

............

How to Introduce a New Dog to Your Cranky Cat
By Me. 

I never thought my cat would let me have a dog.

My cat, Firefly, is 14 years old, suffers from irritable bowel, and hates everyone

but me.

Firefly: trying to flip you the bird.

And I love that cat so flippin’ much. She showed up as a stray kitten when I was in college. Firefly stayed by my side (or in my lap) in my first threadbare apartment, through some major life traumas, and she outlasted (shut up) several boyfriends. And in a way, the fact that she hates everyone but me makes our bond all the more sweet. She is my ever-loyal, doting little darling.

Firefly: "Let's get this over with."

Even though I dreamed of bringing home a dog, I never wanted to upset Firefly’s delicate routine. Some of my friends at Animal Friends assured me that Firefly would “get over it” if I adopted a dog, but I adored my cat too much to subject her to the bother.

Then I met Porter.

That was Porter the day I discovered him in his kennel. He had lived with another dog who, a week earlier, was senselessly beaten to death with a metal rod. You can see how frightened and sick Porter was when this picture was taken, but you can't see that his tail, which he was sitting on, was attempting a forlorn wag.

It turns out that Porter tested positive for heartworm, a serious and potentially fatal disease. He had several weeks of intense treatment ahead of him and he needed a safe place to recover.

My heart broke for him. I offered to foster Porter in my home.

Initially, I agreed to take in Porter for one month. I did not expect Firefly to adjust well to having a dog. In fact, I thought she might present a dealbreaker, and I'd have to sheepishly end my foster period at the adamant behest of my cat.

But to my surprise, having a foster dog made my feisty cat friendlier! In fact, after one month with a foster Beagle, Firefly became more confident and is friendlier with strangers. Now, I’m basking in the joys of having a multi-species household. I couldn’t be happier. And Porter is now a “foster failure”—a permanent member of our little family.

Here are some of the steps that can help a cranky cat adapt to a new dog.

Pick the Right Dog

Not every dog will be able to safely live with cats. So, go to a shelter like Animal Friends that will cat-test a dog before you take him home. They might even be able to introduce you to a dog who has experience living with cats!

Choose a dog who’s calm, doesn’t have a strong reaction to cats, and who responds well to correction.

When I met Porter, I introduced him to both a shelter cat and a rabbit while he was securely leashed and under my control. Both times, he acknowledged them, backed off slightly, and calmly resumed minding his own business. What a good boy! While that didn’t mean I should let him loose in my house, I felt comfortable that I could introduce him to Firefly without putting her in danger.

Always introduce a dog and cat slowly, while your dog is firmly under your control, and where your cat has access to an escape route if needed. 

Establish Separate Spaces

Your cat is going to feel very vulnerable at first, so make sure she has a dog-free zone. Firefly spends most of her time in my bedroom, so from Day 1, I taught Porter that my bedroom is off-limits to him. Firefly can always go there to get away from him.

Have a dedicated place to put your dog. Porter has his very own bedroom in my house. If you don’t have an extra room, consider crate training. Porter gets shut in his room with something to keep him occupied (a Kong or compressed rawhide) when Firefly eats or wants to cuddle with me.

See: Adorable, comfortable Beagle and compressed rawhide

Always crate or confine your dog when you’re not home, so the dog and cat are never together unsupervised. This way, they can’t get into any scuffles.

Establish a Pecking Order That Favors the Weaker Pet

Lots of pet owners report that their cat is the boss of their dog. This is okay, because a pushy dog could seriously hurt a cat.

Firefly established herself as the queen of the household, and I reinforced that hierarchy. I never scolded her for hissing at the dog. Instead, I taught Porter to leave Firefly alone when she hissed at him. It’s okay for your dog to be intimated by your cat; otherwise he could accidentally hurt her. 

Share Your Affection

Spread the love! When Porter moved in, I was tempted to dote on him endlessly. I wanted to spend all my time adoring him. I mean, look how irresistible he is!

But Firefly definitely appreciates it when I carve out alone time for us girls. As I type this, Porter is freshly fed and walked and sleeping happily in his bedroom. Firefly is curled up in my lap, purring. For a Pet Person like me, this is Heaven.

Be Cautious, but Project Calm Confidence

Dogs and cats respond to our signals. So, even though I was constantly policing their behavior, my household mantra was “You’re okay.”

Don’t act like you need to rescue your cat from your dog, or she’ll perceive that she’s in danger. In fact, don’t act like anything out of the ordinary is going on. Tell the dog and cat “You’re okay!” and let them see that they’re overreacting for nothing.

Celebrate Small Successes

Don’t expect your dog and cat to become best friends—and don’t push it! They may start to cuddle and play together, or they may remain stoic roommates for life. This is fine.

Call it a success when your cat greets you and your dog at the door, instead of bolting at the sight of your dog. Celebrate the day that your cat climbs onto the couch with you while your dog naps at your feet.

Firefly: "Tell me I'm still your favorite. Say it!!"

Your cranky cat may even do what mine did. Firefly surprised the heck out of me when she started coming out and greeting guests in my home! She used to cower and hide when my friends came over, but now, it seems like Firefly will actually compete with Porter for attention. For the first time in all her 14 years, she’s joining parties and mingling! I’m so happy for her.

As millions of pet owners know, a multi-species household can bring so much love and laughter into your life. And just imagine how many animals could be spared senseless euthanasia if more families would just adopt another pet.

It may take time, but AnimalFriends can help you add another animal to your home. Just go slowly, and good luck!

I feel like I got hit by a Scion.

If I ever live with someone again, it's going to be that person's job to put me to bed, because I am dumb about that. I am dead tired. I am so tired I can barely focus my eyes. But the thought of getting up to take out my contacts and wash my face seems even more exhausting than sitting here, so I'm still sitting here.

I feel like I got hit by a truck. But, I actually got hit by a Scion.

My poor Carly.  :(

Porter in the tow truck.

This morning, I woke up to take a shelter dog on KDKA-TV with my friend Jim Krenn. It went pretty well, see? Then I ran home to pick up my foster Beagle, Porter, because I wanted to take him to work with me. 

So, I put Porter in my Subaru and decided to go a different way to work. Everyone knows that the Squirrel Hill tunnels are hell on Earth, so I never, ever drive through them. I always drive through Squirrel Hill. But today, since it was President's Day and the roads seemed clear, I decided to get onto the highway. I was driving in stop-and-go traffic on 376-East when I got plowed into from behind.  Porter went flying and at first I didn't even think about anything else, just Porter. Then I realized I had been hit.

Porter was ok. So was I and the other driver. She actually couldn't have been nicer. She was young and pretty, wore lovely gold eyeshadow, and she felt so badly that she cried the whole time we exchanged info. I was in shock, just staring at my car, so she sort of took charge. At one point I pulled a piece of her headlight out of my trunk and handed it to her.

My insurance company sent a tow truck. I emptied my car and loaded several bags, my lunch box, and my Beagle into the tow truck. Porter just cuddled into me as we rode off, with my battered car on the flatbed behind us.

We went to the collision center and Porter waited sweetly by my chair. 

If you have to have a bad day, have it with a Beagle.

The car rental company came and gave me the biggest minivan in the world, I think--a Town and Country. I could drive a whole soccer team in this thing. It was so big that Porter could get his front half in, but then his back legs just scrambled and I had to hoist him.

I was feeling sort of discombobulated so I drove to my parents' house and let myself in. It seemed like the best thing to do at the time. By that time my neck and lower back were starting to hurt pretty badly, so I called my dad's chiropractor and made an appointment. 

I'm not sure how long it will take to fix my car and back, but I'm glad I had my little Beagle with me today.

I'm really, really tired.

Take two Beagles and call me in the morning

This...is Porter.   (meant to be read with awe and wonderment.)

omg

When you work around animals, everyone always asks, "How do you not want to adopt them all?" And I explain that you go through this phase, in the beginning, when you think Fate personally picked out each and every animal just for you, and you weep every time one of them finds a home without you.

But then, as the years go by, you make peace with the fact that you play a temporary role in the animals' lives. Or, maybe it's a form of self-preservation when all of the animals actually start to blend together, a little.

But then, suddenly, one animal will come along out of the blue and break your whole heart.

case in point.

That was Porter the day I discovered him in his kennel. He had lived with another dog who, a week earlier, was senselessly beaten to death with a metal rod. You can see how frightened and sick Porter was when this picture was taken, but you can't see that his tail, which he was sitting on, was attempting a forlorn wag.

It turns out that Porter tested positive for heartworm, a serious and potentially fatal disease. This means he has several weeks of intense treatment ahead of him and he needs a safe place to help him remain as sedate as possible. This is perfect timing for me, because I am treating myself for heartache, and I need a safe presence to help me remain as sedate as possible.

So now, officially, Porter is my Office Foster Dog! He lives and eats and naps with me while I work.

It is amazing.

here. hold this.

There are so many good things about having a Beagle sleep behind you while you work. First of all, it makes me close my office door, which keeps me from wandering down the hall to to complain about the phone call I don't want to return or to compliment my co-workers' cute shoes. In other words, it's quiet and I focus. Also, Porter makes these little sleepy moaning noises that soften my cold, black heart, and make me want to be kind to everyone. And he certainly puts deadlines and other drudgery into perspective: animals, like Porter's own brother, are sometimes beaten to death. We have a lot of work to do.

snore, snuk, zzzzz

I like to think that the Office Foster arrangement has been good for Porter, too. I made this little collage to show his progress from:

- Terrified
to
- Still hating me, but tolerating me a little
- Starting to think I am a-ok
to, finally
- Cheerfully asking me if I need his help with anything

He's blossoming! Just look at his sweet, trusting face!

In time, I might be able to start fostering Porter at home, too (!!) but right now he needs to stay close to the shelter for treatment and care. I might even be able to adopt him...

I feel unbelievably lucky that Porter came into my life when I needed a dose of love, motivation and perspective. I think I need to take care of somebody else right now.

The only puzzle I have no idea how to sort out is this one:

she sparkles (even if only to me)

My adorable, beloved, crankypants CAT! She hates dogs! What am I going to do? I can't make her live with one, can I? After 13 devoted years together, my cat is definitely entitled to have some input in this household.

I'm not sure what will happen, but it will take about two months to treat the heartworm and release Porter for adoption, so for now, Porter and I can mend our hearts together.

mwah!

Happy New Year; I'm Subtle

Today my dear friend Suaz gave me a Pee-wee Herman clutch and also a pin that says "Ask Me About My Favorite Band," because she knows me very, very well. (And also because she knows I'll wear them without a trace of irony.)

I posted this photo on Facebook, and as a result one of my friends inadvertently ended up asking me about my favorite band. 

This prompted me, of course, to describe the way Eddie Vedder tosses the guitar solo to Mike McCready when it's time to shred the song "Even Flow" at a Pearl Jam concert. Mike will go crazy while Eddie steps to the side of the stage, drinks wine, dances, and offers demure waves to his fans. Then, Mike and his guitar will --tantalizingly, I assure you-- creep back into the chorus, slowly luring Eddie back into the song. Eddie will then do one of two things: he will either slink back across the stage and take the mic, or, he will linger, and then make a mad dash at the last possible second before the chorus takes off. If Eddie's late to the mic, or even if he's not, the fans know that the next verse is theirs, and the crowd explodes: EVEN FLO-O. THOUGHTS ARRIVE LIKE BUTTER-FLIES. 

It is a reliable ritual and we Pearl Jam fan club members eat it right up. 

(See also: "I love Eddie Vedder With All My Freaking Heart.")

But in actual news:

Today was a huge day at work. We held a rescue and pulled 27 dogs and 7 cats from death row at local animal control facilities. My favorite moment was when this dog, Rollo, stepped into our vestibule. It's normal for rescued pets to be thoroughly spooked when they get to the shelter, but Rollo was like, "How you doin'?" He just totally owned it. 

"Pleased to be here, what's up?"

And now for my shameful New Years Eve ritual. I work in PR and thanks to this annual rescue, I spend my New Years Eves exhausted, wine glass in hand and glued to the news, waiting to see myself.

There we go.

Yes, I did take pictures of my TV.

Things I Learned From Cool Bosses

If you are a nice person, being someone’s boss is one of the hardest things in the world.

Perhaps managing people is no easier when you’re an asshat. I'm not sure. But it sure looks easier if you're the type of person who can bark orders without flinching.

For years, I believed that some of my best traits (I’m gentle, empathetic and trusting) prevented me from being the kind of manager who can earn authority and respect. I’m best one-on-one, and I’d rather orchestrate a sugar-and-caffeine-fueled-brainstorm session than tell people what to do.

But this style, I’m finally here to tell you, makes an effective leader too.

I’m lucky because I’ve had some truly excellent bosses (and observed some bad ones) over the years, and now I get to steal the best techniques.

Like these:

1. Never sound fake. (Nobody buys boss-talk.) 

Example: When I sold black lights and gag gifts at the mall, my boss hated our customers. He never sugar-coated the fact that our clientele—usually teenagers or people who really thought fake poop was funny—were stupid. But he made his expectations clear: we had to sell stuff and be friendly so that we could get paid and create a nice environment to work. And so we did. (And when the district manager visited from Corporate and handed down impossible sales goals on things like cinnamon-flavored Spanish Fly--with a straight face!--we thought he was full of crap.)

Since then, I’ve learned that bosses, in their attempt to seem professional, will sometimes come at you with big words and office jargon that really mean: “I’m trying to mask the fact that I am giving you a stupid task, and I’m pretending that it’s for the good of the Company. Now do as you’re told.”

This is tricky because sometimes, as the boss, you have to rally your staff to do things that you secretly know are total bullshit. Like sell keychains with pictures of fat ladies on them (see above) or compensate for goofy office politics. I think it’s best to level with people, and explain why it is actually important that they do this stupid thing. Then thank them for being so great.

2. Always give your underlings credit. 

Example: One time when I worked in fundraising, I answered the phone. That was it. A foundation was on the other end, and even though I had never heard of them before, they had a big donation for us and they wanted to know where to mail it. Neat!

When I told my boss, Craig, about the call, he went around telling everyone that I had secured a big grant. That big check would have come with or without me, of course, but Craig built me up like that all the time. Now I get it, and I try to do it too. When my colleagues know what great work my staff is doing, they can give our time and efforts the courtesy and respect that’s due. That helps us do our jobs.

Sharing credit also prevents your underlings from secretly hating you for stealing their thunder. The boss always gets all the recognition for their team's work, and that's not fair.

3. Let your people get the hell out of there if they really need to. 

That same boss once made me take my meltdown outside. He recognized that a dozen personal problems were crowding out my ability to function like a human being. He cheerfully pulled me aside, told me to go out, sit with a coffee somewhere, and come back in a better mood. His kindness hit me as such a surprise, I sort of slinked out like a scolded dog. But I was so grateful for the chance to start my day over fresh, I came back motivated to kick ass.

Now, I know that when my employee is acting like she's fried, she probably has a legit reason and needs to go take a walk. That's okay.

4. Let them do what they’re good at. 

This one’s really important. If your work ethic is even halfway decent, then all you really want at work is to do a good job. My favorite bosses have removed red tape, sought approval and found money in the budget so I could get shit done. When it turned out I was better at doing one thing than another, they gave me more of what I was good at, so I could actually shine.

Now, I work with a brilliant designer who, when I can cut her loose, can blow your freaking mind. It's my job to make sure she doesn't get bogged down in too many things that prevent her from kicking ass.

5. Be a person that they can admire. 

This is a tough one, of course, but never stop trying!

Have you ever had one of those bosses who had a mysteriously busy schedule? Who was always dashing off to vague-sounding meetings, but never seemed to have any projects of his or her own? What do they do all day, while you're busting your butt? If they're doing something important, don't you think you should know about it?

The bosses I've admired most have been powerhouses who do great work and let me see it, so I can be in the loop and learn from their experience. They've let me in on the bigger picture. When you admire your boss, you don't just want to coast...you want to raise the bar to play at their level.

..........

Alright then! Get to work! Be honest! Be cool! And most of all, be nice! Your workers will thank you, and hopefully, be more awesome for you. That, Cool Boss, is your reward.