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“Always tell your friends you love them.”

This advice was given to me by my grandmother, and it’s pretty smart. What if people die? What if you die? If you care about someone, you always want them to know where they stand in your life.

I’ve shared this advice for ages but haven’t practiced it, lately. First of all, I don’t see my friends very often. That’s what happens when you are a sole proprietor and have remote colleagues over the world. But mostly I’ve been selfish and inwardly focused on my first-world problems. Who’s got time to love other people and express gratitude when you’re gazing at your navel?

When I saw my friends in New Orleans, this weekend, I felt renewed. (Well, no, I felt drunk.) But, also, reinvigorated. I have gifted and passionate friends. Men and women who make a difference and happen to like spending a little time with me. I’m grateful for it. I’m lucky to have it, especially because I’m not always deserving of it.

I love these people. Yes, even the ones in HR. So I spent the weekend saying hellos and goodbyes and telling people how much they mean to me. Not because I’m super freaked out that people might die. That’s a bit morbid. I said “I love you” to my friends because I meant it.

We extra. • • • • • #shrm17 #GNO #hrladies

A post shared by Laurie Ruettimann (@lruettimann) on

My grandmother was right. If you have the capacity to do it, always tell your friends you love them. You won’t regret it, and it might mean the world to someone who needs to hear those kind words.

Bonus advice: always share music with friends. I curated what was on my Spotify while in NOLA if anybody cares to listen and share some new stuff with me.

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I’m in New Orleans for two birthdays and a meeting on Wednesday. This trip overlaps with an HR conference that I’m not attending My career is messy, my personal life is all over the map, and I’m massively hungover from drinking too much.

Dammit.

How much did I drink? Well, after weeks of relative weeknight-sobriety, it doesn’t take much to tip the scales on a Monday night. The good news is that I was surrounded by friends. The bad news is that those friends now have stories where I express my frustration with my weight by literally screaming.

My throat is sore.

But I’m employing the seven-seconds rule of regret. Feel awful? Say something stupid? Freak out at a bar and feel disoriented because you think you’re stranded and left alone while everybody else boards an Uber?

Don’t give it more than seven seconds of thought.

A ridiculous night of drinking with a ton of other drunk people doesn’t mean anything. And those awkward, crazy, drunken moments are proof that we’re all human and flawed. I’m more than a vodka cranberry and a glass of champagne. (Well, maybe two.) And so are you.

So everybody who has an epic drunkfest in life should get over it. I’m off to run and have breakfast. The seven-second rule is a gift from the universe. I hope you use it, too!

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There are two types of people in this world: project managers and task managers.

• • •

I’m a project manager. Everything I do — from making coffee to launching a company to fixing my marriage — is a giant endeavor of some sort. I have a plan, I understand the steps, and I get shit done. Not all projects are successful, and I don’t log most of my work into project management software. But I have multiple “projects” in quotes happening throughout my life.

Most of my friends are task managers. They have lists and chores, and they strive to get shit done by the end of the day. Carpool, dry cleaners, launching a new product, planning a massive vacation. Those aren’t projects; they’re tasks and efforts that are part of the larger project that’s life. Adulthood is best when you can take something off your list.

It’s an interesting distinction, I think. Are you a project manager or a task manager? And does it matter? Does one approach help you make decisions that lead to success? Well, “who the fuck knows” is what I’m finding out. What we think we know about work and decision-making versus what we truly know are two different things.

There’s a ton of research that takes a heavy, academic approach to work and failure. There are think tanks and professors who want you to get lean, agile, and embrace change. But very few of those organizations ask questions in simple English — and without an agenda — about how projects and tasks get completed and who’s to blame when life falls apart.

So while my life is falling apart and I’m wondering what the hell I’m going to do with myself, I’m asking those questions in this survey.

I don’t have a purpose or point to my life except to learn more about what’s happening in the world of work — and project management — and see if I can be helpful. So, I’m embracing that role and starting our research. We are pretty close to closing our survey, the first in a series, and digging into the data.

Help our team learn more about project management and work so that I can get back to work on something meaty and helpful.

While I’m happy to spend my summer on the porch with the cats, in the North Carolina humidity and under the pretty string lights while sipping champagne, I can probably do more with my time and efforts. Here’s the link to our survey on project management. Please take it and share it.

And thank you!

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This month is ten years since I quit my job at Pfizer.

Technically, I didn’t quit. My position was eliminated as part of a broader HR restructuring. My husband’s job was eliminated, too. I signed a release and waiver, and I was given a severance package that provided some coverage while I transitioned to a new role. That new role was a full-time blogger and speaker at Punk Rock HR LLC, which seemed full of endless possibility back in 2007.

My entrepreneurial journey seemed strong.

In the early days of unemployment, we slept late and went to the gym. My husband cooked elaborate meals, and we saw a lot of movies. We enjoyed one another’s company because we knew it would be temporary. We spent a lot of our free time volunteering at the local animal rescue. I looked for rescue dogs, something we’d talked about since I moved in with my husband. And I blogged a lot.

Then a whole bunch of stupid things happened.

First, we moved from Michigan to North Carolina for my husband’s new job but couldn’t sell our home in Kalamazoo. When we finally sold it, we took a big financial hit. Then my father-in-law passed away. My mom had chronic health problems. Then my husband lost his job in North Carolina. Twice. The late aughts and early teens were full of ridiculously boring obstacles and hurdles. We never had children of our own, we stopped fostering kittens and being involved in the animal rescue community, and we never adopted a dog.

I can’t say how my husband felt during the past ten years, but I suffered from intermittent low-level depression and anxiety. Yes, I enjoyed my career as a blogger and speaker. But even I took a job at a marketing agency for a little while just to relieve the financial pressure and to get out of the house so my husband could have time for himself to find a new job.

Thankfully, this story isn’t too depressing.

There’s nothing but good news to report in 2017. My husband works for an excellent company, and we emerged from the recession relatively unscathed. Our cats are happy, and we adopted our black cat, Roxy, back in late 2014. But, while our story has a relatively happy ending, I can see how career and economic upheaval during the early and pivotal years of a relationship can lead to tough conversations in the later years of marriage.

Right now, we’re in the middle of asking ourselves a lot of questions. Who are we as individuals and as a Ruettimann-team? What do we want from our careers? How do we view retirement? How do we continue to be interesting people with a purpose as we get older? How much time do we want to spend together and apart? Who takes care of us when we get older? Is it possible to be financially secure and start a new company like GlitchPath?

I’m not ready for the next financial or emotional recession.

Everybody changes, but I am an entirely different person than the woman who left her job at Pfizer. From my appearance to my outlook on life, it’s all a switcheroo. I’m a successful writer and speaker by some accounts, but I’m also a nascent entrepreneur who never thought she’d be worried about indemnifying her husband’s retirement plans against risk.

And I’m also a middle-aged woman who knows that the economy could flip in a heartbeat. I refuse to go back to a place of emotional and marital disarray and confusion. How do I keep it all together — my company, my marriage, and my sanity?

I’m not sure. I’ll keep writing about all of this if you continue reading. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over ten years, it’s that my entrepreneurial journey cannot exist separately from the journey and evolution of my marriage. I have a husband and a mortgage. I don’t have the luxury of being a young CEO who can burn the candle at both ends and bet on future earnings. It’s just us.

The good news is that I feel informed and prepped for all the things that might go wrong. I’ve spent the past ten years finding moments of success in a landscape of failure. No matter what happens with my career or my life, I know that I’ll endure.

It would just be great to get a goddamn dog.

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I hate giving and receiving professional feedback. It’s the worst.

• • •

That’s why I agreed to write a six-part series on the Saba Halogen blog about giving and receiving feedback. If I’m ever going to get better, I need to learn how to communicate with other people effectively.

The first two posts are up.

My series forced me to research “best practices,” and I tried to find ways to apply those recommendations into our everyday lives as workers and leaders. We have a webinar coming up at the end of June, too. If you’ve ever struggled to give someone feedback, or if you don’t know what to do with feedback that’s wrong, you might want to sign up.

The whole time I wrote those posts, I thought back to a time when I gave feedback to a blogger in the human resources industry. She was young, energetic, and wanted me to be her mentor. Her writing skills were okay, and I thought it would be fun to have a protege and build a legacy.

Unfortunately, this young woman suffered from acute insecurity and felt inferior to others. Girls are like that, and so part of my job was to build her up while challenging her to find a voice and point-of-view. She started reading great bloggers like Tim Sackett and Kris Dunn, and I noticed that some of her writing mirrored their posts. Also, she mimicked my tweets and my writing style.

So I gave this woman some feedback. We all learn how to do things in this world by mirroring and mimicking. At some point, you either have the confidence to produce a new idea or you don’t. It’s fine to jump on the bandwagon and pay homage to writers whom you respect; however, it’s totally uncool to watch people and try to associate yourself with good work by literally parroting what other people say.

Because I’m an HR lady who was schooled on documentation, I had specific examples of where I felt this writer was mimicking and mirroring writers. I also had examples of how I thought she could expound on ideas and make them her own. In retrospect, I should have realized that nobody wants feedback. Not millennials. Not baby boomers. And I should know this because Tim Sackett literally wrote a blog post saying that nobody wants feedback.

(If only I had parrotted him more, I would have learned something.)

But sometimes you have to give feedback to change someone’s life. I felt that it was my job as a mentor to communicate a particular message with examples of how to improve. And you know how the story ends, right? No good deed goes unpunished, and this blogger now hates me. Furthermore, she mimics and mirrors me so much that she gave me feedback and examples of how I copy people like Ryan Estis, Robin Schooling, and Jennifer McClure.

Naturally, I heard that feedback and got defensive. I grew up in this industry with a core group of people. We have shared interests. We’re nearly the same age. And we have a passion for disrupting a conservative industry. Right around 2009, we all took risks in our careers and tried to break through the noise of SHRM and do something daring. My friends and I are part of a community, which means we sometimes see the same patterns and have similar messages.

But that feedback got into my head. Instead of mindfully listening and being thoughtful about my response, I pretty much told her to get a life. I’m not saying that I don’t stand by that action because I do. I can’t be in a professional relationship where feedback is responded to with mirrored feedback. It’s meta, and, ultimately, unhealthy. And it doesn’t respect my role as a mentor.

However, since that experience, I’ve been itching to explore the world of how to give and receive feedback. I’ve learned that trust and respect are core components of all relationships. If you don’t have confidence and esteem of someone, most of your efforts — including giving and receiving professional feedback — are a waste of time.

So, please have a look at my Halogen Saba series, and please tune in for my upcoming webinar. I’ve done the deep dive on giving and receiving professional feedback, and I’m excited to share what I have learned.

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I’m in the middle of pretty big changes in my life. I’m no longer working as an HR blogger. I’m not doing HR consulting. I’m trying to launch my nascent software company. And there’s always something going on with one of my cats. Right now, Emma has a hernia. You know, of course, my cat has a hernia. That’s how this world works.

I’m pretty stressed. Not mid-life-crisis stressed — mostly because I can’t afford a young girlfriend and a fast car — but I’m really fucking stressed.

Thankfully, I can get out of bed in the morning. The rest of the day surprises me, though. Old work habits are gone because old work is gone. New conversations about unfamiliar subjects sometimes confuse me. And HR ladies still come around and try to hassle me, which is annoying.

But I’m so stressed that I’m having crazy dreams where I’m at a speaking event, and my dearest friends are trying to unmask me. I’m rushing through buildings to tell my audience, “Don’t listen to Jennifer McClure! I am a software CEO! I know what I’m doing. My speech is going to be awesome!”

Imposter syndrome isn’t a syndrome when it’s true. I’m honestly faking my way through this new phase of my life, just like entrepreneurs before me. I feel pretty alone, right now, and it’s because I am alone. It’s the thing about being an entrepreneur that only entrepreneurs know: while it takes a village to raise money and commercialize a product, it can’t get done without you.

Also, it doesn’t help that my husband didn’t sign up for any of this. Writer? Speaker? Entrepreneur? What the hell? We never talked about any of this, and he was relatively happy with his HR lady wife who rescued cats and complained about her job. At least that woman kept a small financial footprint and was aligned with core values of retirement and opening an animal shelter.

So it makes sense that I’m stressed (and having stress dreams). It got so bad that I reached out to my friends who are more successful than me and told them what’s happening. I also said, “I’ve identified one thing about your personality that makes you successful. I’m going to copy it and blog about it. Maybe do some videos.”

I don’t believe in being a mimic, but I believe in taking the best of what people have to offer and learning from it. For example, Steve Boese is wicked smart and reads challenging books that have nothing to do with HR. I told him that I wanted to read a book that I would never consider and then talk to him about it. He agreed with a caveat.

“I choose the book.”

He assigned But What If We’re Wrong?: Thinking About the Present As If It Were the Past, which is absolutely a book I’d never read. We’re going to read it together and talk about it on his podcast.

And my friend, Tim Sackett, is the kind of guy who tries anything once. I told him that I’d eat a Chick-fil-A sandwich, but he would prefer that I take a surfing lesson. TBD on that one because I’m not a strong swimmer, but you get the idea.

I am committed to not losing my shit or getting divorced while changing careers, which is why it’s important to occupy my brain in another way. So, I’ll be distracting myself with personal growth projects while we dissect data from the most recent GlitchPath survey.

Please take the survey if you can, and please wish me good luck. And wish Emma good luck, too. She’s having an ultrasound, today, and I’m excited to spend money on my cats while my HR blogging and consulting income has dissipated.

Sheesh, I can’t wait to get past the “nearly having a mental breakdown” entrepreneurial rite of passage. Life will never be normal, but a break can’t come soon enough.

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Hey, guys. I’m getting ready for my Facebook Live experience in San Diego, next week. So it’s important to calm down and communicate from a place of strength and power instead of going on stage and being a nervous idiot. My friend, Ita Olsen, is my coach. And she let me record our relaxation exercises. Have a peak.

Is it ridiculous? Yes, it looks funny and maybe even cringeworthy. But we normally do these exercises on Skype without an audience, and it works. We create tension in the body, we release tightness with the breath, and these “workouts” help approximate what it feels like to be nervous on stage and screen.

I’m a very flawed and inexperienced communicator. Public speaking never came naturally to me. But now I can exhale and remember that breathing calms my central nervous system and focuses my mind. It’s science. It works. And it pairs nicely with my MBSR training, which has also changed my life.

You might not need someone like Ita Olsen, but you probably need to work on something in your lives. Every job requires you to learn and grow, even the fun jobs. Whenever I’m lost and confused about my career, I find that my coaches and mentors always have wise words to offer that get me back on track.

Ita Olsen is definitely one of my favorite coaches, and I’m lucky enough to call her a friend. And because of her work, I’ll be super chill and relaxed at CSOD Convergence in San Diego. Hope you can take a few minutes next week and have a look.

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When I was a kid, I wanted to do TV weather. I would’ve been really good at it, too, except I don’t know science. Or how to convert Celsius to Fahrenheit. Or how to spell Fahrenheit without a spellchecker even though I ought to know better because Ray Bradbury is the man.

I never did make it onto The Weather Channel, but I once turned down doing a segment on Fox & Friends back in 2010 because I didn’t want any part of that show. I had a failed attempt at a reality TV show that introduced me to Walter Bond and the lucrative motivational speaking business. Plus I’ve done my fair share of local TV and whatnot.

So, I’ve done TV. Local cable access TV stuff, but never the weather. Dang it.

Here’s some good news. Next week, I’ll be pivoting away from my role as HR blogger and joining my friends in San Diego. I will host a Facebook Live event for Cornerstone OnDemand.

What’s a Facebook Live? Well, it’s like TV for people like me who don’t have the talent to make it on regular channels but have access to a computer. Do people watch Facebook Live? Some people do, which is why I’ve been invited to host two shows on “Learning Technology of Tomorrow” and “Motivating People.” What’s Cornerstone OnDemand? Well, it’s an awesome company that’s putting me on newfangled TV.

It’s not the weather, I know, but it’s never too late to tackle your dreams.

I’ve been working with my dear friend, Ita Olsen, to get ready for the event. She helps to calm my nerves and lower my voice. She’s a speaking coach, and, honestly, a therapist. Here’s a video of our warm-up, today, and it’s pretty fun to see how the sausage is made.

I’ll show more videos later this week.

I hope you can watch me on Tuesday and Wednesday, next week, as I get closer to my dream of doing TV weather. And I’m really super grateful that the folks at CSOD took a chance on me to host their live event. Because it’s the internet, they’re serving champagne while we’re on the air.

I don’t know, man. This might just be better than real TV. I’ll keep you posted.

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I’ve been attending a class at Duke to learn about mindfulness-based stress reduction techniques, and today is the last day. It’s bittersweet. I’m grateful for the experience. My personal and professional relationships have improved over the past ten weeks, and I’m making better decisions. But being mindful is exhausting.

Part of me feels like there’s no going back to the old way of living. Stressed, rushed, and making stupid decisions where I’m not breathing or thinking through alternative ways of coping. Another part of me welcomes the return of long summer nights on the porch, drinking champagne and wondering why I can’t move forward with my life.

Dammit.

There’s a clinical program where I could learn how to apply mindfulness to my start-up company. We are helping teams (and, really, people) make better decisions at work through our online platform. It’s exciting stuff.

But it’s not quite ready for commercialization. In the interim, I’d have to apply the coursework to people. Unfortunately, thanks to my ten-week MBSR course, I’m now mindful of how fundamentally pissed off I get when people ask me for advice and don’t take it.

Why are you wasting my time? If you made good decisions, you wouldn’t be asking me for help. So maybe just shut up for two seconds and hear what I have to say.

At the same time, my MBSR class has made me mindful enough to see that sometimes people ask for advice because they don’t know how to ask for a blessing and support. Would it kill me to take a breath and nod my head?

Yes, it does kill me a little bit.

I’m working hard on offering up a little loving kindness and wishing people good luck on their journeys. I would rather not know about your problems instead of knowing about them, offering good advice, and being ignored. That doesn’t feel very good, and it hurts to watch you suffer.

Which is why GlitchPath is so very near and dear to my heart. Prophet is rarely recognized in its own house. You won’t listen to me and make better decisions, so maybe I can create a mechanism where people proactively reflect on what might go wrong and then fix their behaviors.

Gary Klein says it works. My earlier user testing is positive. Lots of companies apply the premortem to running clinical trials, building bridges, and constructing aircraft carriers. NASA uses it, too. I never thought that analyzing language and behaviors could help people beat failure, and I never believed that beating failure could be so mindful. I’m glad to learn that I was wrong — being mindful can change lives.

So, in that way, my MBSR class has truly changed my thinking. Maybe I will enroll in the formal foundational program. I just wish I liked people more. Ugh.

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One of my mentors, Nick Morgan, believes that every public speaker is a motivational speaker. I think he’s right, and it applies to bloggers and writers like me.

If you’re on the internet telling other people how to live, you’re a player in an industry full of people like Jim Rohn, Tony Robbins, Tim Ferriss, and Gary Vaynerchuk. You hope to move people from inaction to action, and your primary tool is your voice.

Having tried to be a motivational writer and speaker for over a decade, here’s what I know about successful people: I’m not one of them. The best of the best understand that they are flawed and broken, and they are relentlessly committed to improving their lives and taking you along for the ride.

That’s not me.

At my core, I’m just an HR blogger who couldn’t cut it. While I was noisy and flashy, I was mostly early to social media. I benefitted from being a big fish in a small pond. And I blew it. I didn’t offer mature or humble advice. I wasn’t one of those speakers who whispered wisdom in your ear and set your world on fire. I also wasn’t brave enough to bare my soul. I was an HR chick with a snappy URL who found myself somewhere in the middle, hedging my bets and hoping people don’t poke too many holes in the fragile narrative that I constructed to get through the day.

It never paid off.

I was never able to crack the upper echelon of writing and speaking because I was smack-dab in the mediocre middle, speaking no truths and sparing myself from criticism from the powerful. The middle-road is crowded, by the way, and full of middle-aged white men decked out in Landsend slacks telling you that your best effort is nothing more than amateur hour.

Assholes.

Now it’s 2017, and I’m committed to ending my career as an HR blogger. The truth is, my career ended years ago. My traffic is down, my advertisers are gone, and nobody wants to hear me half-heartedly rage against a machine that earns them a paycheck. When I’m paid to speak and attend events, I’m now there as someone who encourages and promotes a larger message that’s not my own.

So if I have any wisdom about HR blogging and speaking, it’s this: either burn the motherfucking boats and go all in on your journey, or toil away in mediocre misery and wonder why you’ve never been paid to speak at a national conference and can’t get above 500 page views.

Writers and speakers who try to play it safe are losers and, ultimately, imposters. And audiences can see through cowards who are attempting to half-ass their way into being motivational speakers.

So if you’re going to blog, blog. If you’re going to speak, speak. Do it with a sense of purpose and direction, or be prepared to waste a decade of your life waiting for success and wondering why it hasn’t arrived. It’s not coming for me — not on this blog, anyway — and I can only hope to God that my ongoing example of failure fulfills my ultimate goal of motivating you from inaction to action in your personal and professional lives.

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