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I always end the year by writing about my accomplishments, failure, regrets, and resolutions. I love this time of year because the calendar naturally moves me to reflect and take action. This post is all about 2019 resolutions.

There are two types of people in this world: people who think there are two types of people, and people who don’t. Me? I think there are two types of people in this world. The first group makes resolutions, and the second group criticizes people who make resolutions.

Resolutions are a decision to do (or not to do) something, and I’m on #TeamResolutions. There are years when I make resolutions to eat better and exercise, which is how I became a vegetarian and a marathoner, and years when I resolve just to make it through the year with no significant life events. 

My most consequential resolution came on New Year’s Eve 2006 when I was on the couch in my jammies and said, “I’ve got to quit my job and do something else with my life.”

The true story of how I quit my job at Pfizer will be in my new book. And that book? Comes from a resolution to write something helpful for people who feel stuck.

Year-end resolutions don’t have to transform your lives, they just have to start you on a better — or different — path. Resolutions don’t have to start on January 1st, either. The new year begins now. Every day is a do-over if you’re looking to change your life.

Me? I have individual goals for my career, my finances, my health and my relationships. And I’m using the Get to Work system to hold myself accountable because a coaching client of mine loves it. We’re going on that journey together.

Since I’m asking you to think about your 2019 resolutions, I’ll share mine. I have two. The first is to stop being detached and conflict-avoidant in my private life and make important decisions even when they cause temporary pain and heartache. My second resolution is to live a less caustic life and surround myself with people who bring out the best in me — personally and professionally — and try to be someone who only brings out the best in my friends and family members. 

We’ll see how all that goes. The first mile is always the hardest.

I hope 2019 is a year of transformation for you, big or small. I am grateful that you still read my blog. And I hope you believe what I understand to be true: Wherever you are, the view can improve in 2019. 

Happy New Year.

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I always end the year by writing about my accomplishments, failure, regrets, and resolutions. I love this time of year because the calendar naturally moves me to reflect and take action. This post is all about 2018 regrets.

Every year, I write that regrets are a waste of time. Everybody makes mistakes, and it’s self-indulgent to focus on errors instead of solutions. Don’t be that person who looks back at the past and focuses on the “what ifs” and “what could have been.” That person is annoying, and, ultimately, never learns his lesson.

But I also realize there are people out there who never feel sadness or repentance over their behavior. That’s not healthy, either.

This year, I behaved in regretful ways. Got mad at the Walgreens drive-thru lady and didn’t use the best tone. Drank too much when I was trying to maintain my straightedge lifestyle. Wished someone a happy 50th birthday who was only turning 49.

Oooops. But I’m not a horrible person, and life continues.

For the first time, I also had middle-aged moments when I saw how decisions I made years ago influenced my life today. The path I didn’t take? The painful decision I tried to avoid? The person I didn’t treat well? Some of it came to roost in 2018, and I felt pangs of regret for not being smarter or braver when I was younger.

But, again, there’s nothing to do except make better choices.

Regret is a trap that paralyzes you from taking action. And the only way to beat the voice in your head is to take action right now and disrupt the negative feedback loop in your mind.

How do you stop focusing on regret? Some say exercise and movement are helpful tools. Service to others will change the conversation in your head, too. Some people are advocates for imagery, meditation, and mindfulness. I believe in talking to people — friends, loved ones, clergy, therapists — who are empathetic and wise. There is comfort in hearing stories where other people make mistakes and thrive.

Regret is a phenomenal waste of time, wasted on people and things that no longer deserve your attention. Behaved in regretful ways? Wish you could’ve made a different decision? Don’t linger. Make amends as best you can and move on.

The key, though, is to make better and more interesting mistakes. That’s what 2019 should be all about for you.

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I always end the year by writing about my accomplishments, failure, regrets, and resolutions. I love this time of year because the calendar naturally moves me to reflect and take action. This post is all about 2018 failure.

I’ve participated in this ritual in some way since 2004, and I generally write about failure in one of three ways.

1. Sometimes it’s chronological and honest.
2. There are times when it’s vague and summarized.
3. More often than not, I wrap up failure in a lesson that’s larger than failure.

You’ll get all of that in 2018.

However, before I write anything, a word: society does its citizens a disservice when it fetishizes failure. While failure is an essential tool for growth, there are smarter and more effective ways to receive an education. Failure as an instrument of teaching — and a vehicle for maturation — is stupid and counterproductive. Everybody fails, but let’s get to the successful part sooner.

I think my biggest failure is that I didn’t do more premortems throughout the year. If you remember, I built a technology platform to help people beat failure called GlitchPath based on the idea of the premortem, but I didn’t use it myself. I went headfirst into projects and relationships with glitches and didn’t ask myself, “How am I about to fail?”

You don’t need technology to minimize failure. You need a minute. A pause. Some self-reflection. The ability to delay gratification long enough to remember how things failed in the past and how you can avoid frustration and disappointment by changing your behaviors in the immediate future.

And even if you take a moment to plan for failure, you might still fail. That’s how life works.

But here’s what I did in 2018: I mostly ignored warning signs. If I paid attention at all, I wanted to transform my future magically and was willing to endure failure as a rite of passage to win an emotional lottery. It was only in the fourth quarter when I started to review my year that I woke up and realized it was time to get to work. I was failing pretty hard, and no amount of wishful thinking could change the facts on the ground.

So, I put pen to paper and wrote down some goals. I’ve got four buckets: health, finance, career, relationships. Then I did a premortem and asked myself, “How am I going to fail?”

Big goals have significant risks. I’ll probably fail to achieve some of my goals for 2019, just like I missed the mark on my life in 2018. But at least I’m back to embracing the premortem, a tool to help me see through the fog and recognize the landscape before me.

Want to beat failure? Try the premortem. I hope it helps you like it continues to assist me. And don’t be too hard on yourself if you fail in 2019. Let’s try to fail in new and more interesting ways, okay?

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People keep asking me for my Omah’s Christmas Snickerdoodle recipe. It’s a holiday staple.

Turns out, she is my ex-boyfriend’s Omah, but these cookies have been in my life since 1991. We’ll always be family.

Here’s the recipe.

Sift together and set aside:
2 1/2 cups sifted all-purpose flour
2 tsp. cream of tartar
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt

In a large bowl, beat together until light and fluffy with an electric mixer:
1 cup vegetable shortening (Crisco)
1 1/4 cups sugar
Add 2 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
Stir in flour mixture slowly.

Combine but keep separate:
2 Tablespoons sugar
1 Tablespoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg

Roll dough between palms of hands, one tablespoon at a time into round balls [about an inch).
Roll each ball in sugar mixture.
Place 2 inches apart on ungreased baking sheet.
Bake at 400 degrees for 9 minutes until lightly browned. {Do not overbake.]
Remove from pan to cool.

Makes 4 dozen cookies or one big batch of delicious raw cookie dough.

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Next Year is Finally Now.

It’s November 5th. The year is almost over. Have you achieved your goals? Want to take a risk in January but are afraid of getting fired? Are you looking to shake up your career in 2019? Well, you don’t have to be Mark Zuckerberg or Brené Brown to try new things and put yourself first. It’s time to fix your career.

Starting on December 3rd, I’m offering private group coaching with realistic lessons and advice on risk-taking and entrepreneurship (and intrapreneurship) to make 2019 your best year ever. Here’s what you’ll get if you sign up for my group coaching:

1. Five weeks of coaching in a small group via ZoomThere are four group lessons and a private coaching session with me. You’ll listen to good advice about how to take risks in 2019 without getting fired, you’ll learn from the best, and we’ll work together to implement your new career plans for 2019. Need to miss a session? It’s recorded for you.

2. A special Facebook group to network with like-minded peers and gain support. Nobody needs another FB group, so we’ll make this one better with practical advice and input from guests who will inspire you daily.

3. An “AMA” (ask me anything) session. More than just a lazy Q&A, I’ll answer your questions about what it really takes to start your new journey, and I’ll dispell myths about a side hustle.

4. Access to an entrepreneurial guest speaker and a free book. I’ll write more about this tomorrow.

5. A wrap-up session to cover the next steps and where you go from here. You fix work by fixing yourself. After five weeks together, you’ll walk away with a new attitude and an action plan.

Want more for yourself in 2019?

If you have career dreams — going back to school, opening an ice cream store, submitting a patent, getting promoted — we’ll have five weeks together where we cover how to put yourself first, take risks, and explore entrepreneurship (or intrapreneurship) in 2019.

The class is capped at 12 participants, we meet every Monday night in December, and the sessions are recorded if you miss one. The rate is $479, which includes an hour of private coaching, and there’s a 14-day money-back guarantee.

Sign up now with the blue button below or in the sidebar. I’ll be back tomorrow with more news about the class. ⤵️⤵️

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Hi, everybody, I’m on medical leave. Nobody get any big ideas about asking me for anything. I’m milking this time off for every stinkin’ minute away from PR pitches and email messages about machine learning and cryptocurrency.

But, since I have some free time on my hands while I heal, let me tell you about what it’s like to have gallbladder surgery. Wait, let’s back up, and I’ll tell you what it’s like to have a dodgy gallbladder.

It sucks.

For the past seventeen months, I’ve been telling myself that I had digestive issues because I’m an unattractive perimenopausal middle-aged woman with shoddy DNA who deserves to suffer because she failed at launching a tech startup and stopped running marathons.

Broken gallbladder? No, I’ve got a broken brain.

I told myself—this pain is what happens when you lose your competitive edge in life. I’m doomed to be miserable and unhealthy. Isn’t it natural to have hot flashes when you eat bread? Isn’t it normal to feel like someone is punching you in the rib cage when you eat a grilled cheese? Get used to your 40s, Laurie. This is what it’s like to get older.

It turns out, I’m an idiot.

Didn’t help that my doctors weren’t in much of a rush to diagnose me with anything. Even though I had all the hallmarks of a failing gallbladder and gallstones—including a fever, hot flashes, shakes, cramping — I got diagnosed in the emergency room with an “abdominal muscle strain.”

By the time I saw a gastroenterologist worth a damn and had an ultrasound, I was in severe pain. That’s when I found out that I had some gallstones — one of which was 1.3 cm big.

(How big is that? Who knows, I’m not metric. But it was big enough to bring me to my knees in the kitchen when drinking coffee.)

So, I scheduled my gallbladder surgery for last week. And, honestly, it was the easiest thing I’ve done in ages compared to being kicked in the gut by cholecystitis. Once I got over my fear of anesthesia, things went smoothly. They yanked out my mushy gallbladder, and I’m currently rocking a bloated abdomen with glued-up holes. But I’m not even on pain medicine. I was up and walking around the next day.

Sounds great, right? Well, it’s not all wine and roses in the Ruettimann household. I had to drink three servings of Miralax to start pooping. I didn’t wash my hair for five days. And I’m on light duty and can’t lift more than a jug of milk for six weeks, which sucks because I don’t know how much a jug of milk weighs but I’m pretty sure my cat Emma is two jugs and likes to be carted around like a princess. It’s hard to explain to her that mommy doesn’t want a hernia.

miralax

So, yeah, I have to take it slow, which means that I’m not going to answer your email message right away, but I’m feeling fine under the circumstances. Gallbladder surgery was a relief, and already I’m feeling better and have moved on from soup to solid foods. I’m digesting meals like a champion, and I’m not breaking into a sweat from Ritz crackers. Life is good.

Here’s what I thought I knew: I’m an athlete. When people tell you to take it easy and listen to your body, they are mostly wrong. The body wants you to avoid pain and achieve homeostasis, and your mind will trick you into quitting before it’s necessary. And I’m here to tell you that you can physically push yourself at least 30% harder without any athletic training and achieve exponentially higher results in this world.

However, if you feel like you’re going to die when you eat a taco, it’s probably time to see a good doctor who knows a thing or two about how the body works. Otherwise, you’ll end up like me — having gallbladder surgery 17 months after your initial symptoms, tormenting yourself for no goddamn reason. You don’t want gallbladder surgery, or any medical procedure, under those stressful conditions.

•••••

Check out our latest podcast episode here:

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Do you know the difference between wellness and wellbeing?

Wellness refers to physical health. When your employer talks about wellness, they want you to quit smoking and lose weight to bring down health insurance costs. You know what brings down health insurance costs? Better regulation of health insurance companies and medical providers. But, no, you have to lose five pounds and give up donuts. That’s wellness.

Wellbeing is more holistic and is used to talk about life experiences and feelings. Employers bucket wellbeing into three different categories: physical, emotional, and financial. Your company still wants to lower costs, but there’s a move to cost-per-employee as well as revenue-per-employee to engagement scores.

If you’re happy in those three buckets — and making “good choices” as defined by industry experts who understand healthy outcomes — you’ll make your company more money. If you’re not satisfied with life, your employer won’t be as profitable.

So, how do companies measure things like happiness and engagement?

Well, some employers partner with solution providers to send out surveys and then respond to the data. It’s programmatic and sometimes assumes the outcomes, or, at the very least, has a list of solutions for different scenarios.

Other employers will hire technology companies and look at your calendar — yes, your daily schedule — and try to understand what you’re doing with your day. Then they’ll swoop in with personalized recommendations on meeting with your manager more, finding a mentor, asking for feedback from your colleagues, getting more exercise, doing more meditation, taking a digital detox, or even recommendations for PTO.

And still other employers will use wearables like your badge to see if you’re stationary or getting up and moving around during the day. Google pioneered this with their cafeterias. They would monitor who was eating where, and they’d open and close lunch stations to encourage connectivity between different groups of workers. Wearables help employers monitor physical activity in a bunch of new ways. Now, your company wants you to get up and move around because sitting is the new smoking.

So, I’m here to postulate a new theory about wellness and wellbeing. The difference between the two is how the two are measured. Wellness is self-reported, and wellbeing is surveilled and diagnosed.

Employers are over employee engagement surveys and wellness programs because those are reactionary and, honestly, a lagging indicator of an organization’s wellbeing. They want to surveil you, diagnose you, and treat you before you even know what’s wrong. We live in a world of cameras, sensors, and data tracking tools. Pull everything together, and you get a predictive picture of what’s going right — and what could go wrong — with the biggest line-item expense in your budget.

Welcome to the era of employee wellbeing. Your company loves you and cares about you. And they’re watching your every move to prove it.

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A recent study reports that no alcohol is good for your health, which is terrible news for everybody who has a real job and wants to decompress.

Unfortunately, the news is true. Forget the French, forget your wine club, forget the beverage industry’s claims that beer is good after running. Not even a moderate amount of alcohol is worth the risk to your body. It turns out that sitting isn’t the new smoking. Drinking is the new smoking.

As someone trying to retire from alcohol, I am acutely aware of the pros and cons of drinking. Love champagne, hate a champagne headache. Love the margarita, hate the salt-bloat. Love the feeling of forgetting my problems, hate when I wake up from alcohol-induced anxiety at 3 o’clock in the morning and remember my obstacles are still there.

Adulthood is a tricky thing. Once you know that something has no upside, it’s hard to see anything but the downside.

NO WAIT THAT’S A LIE.

There are so many things we do that are bad for us — or just don’t work — and yet we do them, anyway. Think about your job.

Interviews don’t correlate to performance, but we compel candidates to dress up in their fanciest business attire and roll into our offices and ask a bunch of dumb questions like we’re oracles and can predict the truth.

Performance reviews are garbage and don’t get to the heart of achievements, outcomes or obstacles; however, don’t tell that to the boss who thinks he’s doing you a favor by sitting down with you regularly and giving you feedback.

Wellness plans don’t deliver. They try to reward us for being healthy — and some companies offer to cook us healthy meals in the cafeteria — while still forcing us to commute to work, shoving us into open-office work environments, and making us sit all day in long meetings that don’t need to happen.

It’s not hard to see why so many people ignore science and drink socially or excessively. Spirits are worn away by a society that doesn’t bend or flex to commonsense or science. And it’s hard to fight back against nameless and faceless people who run corporations that make our lives harder. Much easier alter reality for a few moments than to change our careers and our lives permanently.

But I’m done with short-term fixes that never entirely fix things.

Now that I know that alcohol is mostly bad for society, I’m trying to make better choices. It’s not easy, but I’d rather be brutally honest than pretend that “moderation” is okay. While I’m not going to wave the temperance flag and badger other people about their choices, I’m not going to let the beverage industries profit and win because I’ve lied to myself about the benefits of drinking. The same people who say that it’s never been proven that drinking is bad for pregnant mothers are the ones who tell me that moderation is okay.

Do I look stupid here?

So, these are the things I won’t lie to myself about: Smoking. Drinking. Eating meat. Pretending that HR/corporate methods are useful.

What’s on your list?

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How many people enjoy reading self-help and business books? I can’t imagine many.

(I’m burned out, myself.)

A few weeks ago, I finished my book proposal for “Let’s Fix Work,” and it includes an introduction, author bio, an overview of the audience, a marketing plan, competitive analysis of similar books that sold well, book specs, a chapter outline, and a sample chapter.

Honestly, I’m not trying to write a self-help or business book. I’ve had to read about a dozen to understand my competition, and most of them are horrible.

On the business book side, they are mainly dull and dry. Authors want to establish themselves as experts and write in a formal, unapproachable tone. When it comes to life-hack books, I think it seems uncool and shady to follow a formula where the author tells her own pathetic story, swears at her readers to motivate them, and tries to seem edgy while taking their money.

(No thanks. If that’s the game, I want no part of it.)

What do you think of business books and self-help books? What do you like? What bugs you?

My book tries to make the case that work is broken because you’re broken. Do you want to fix your job? Fix yourself and put yourself first. Deprioritize your job title and reconnect with your community. Bet on yourself. Fix your money. Prioritize happiness and contentment. Put your physical and emotional wellbeing first. Blah blah blah.

My book isn’t a self-help book or a traditional business guide. It’s just an attempt to help you reframe your current situation. It’s a list of ideas and suggestions. Take it or leave it.

(I hope you take it. I hope someone takes it. Part of being a big sister is realizing that no one listens to you.)

Now, having done the competitive analysis portion of my book proposal, I know there are things that I won’t do with my book.

First off, I won’t pretend that I’m a therapist. If I watch another Instagram story from a self-help guru who offers clinical advice in a pretty font, I’m seriously going to lose it. Therapeutic advice from a writer who isn’t a therapist is fraudulent.

Second, I won’t commoditize life’s obstacles and offer a neatly packaged solution. There are authors and gurus out there who have trademarked issues like impostor syndrome®™ and social anxiety®™ with the goal of offering five simple steps to fixing your life. I think that’s malpractice. Also, what if you are an impostor? Maybe you should own up to that and start living a more authentic life, yo.

(I’ve got my work cut out for me.)

The good news is that literary agents are interested, and I start traveling to meet them after Labor Day. I’m also traveling for work — attending conferences and meeting with clients — and can begin my marketing plan right now.

The bad news is that this book proposal has ruined my personal reading goals, and I’ve been inspired-to-death. It’s nearly impossible to pick up my Kindle, right now, and get excited about my library. So, if you have any YA book recommendations, I’ll take ’em.

What’s good? What are you reading that you love? I need to get my mind off fixing work for a few weeks while I’m traipsing around on planes trying to lock down an agent and sell this manuscript.

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Back in 2004, nobody knew anything about the social internet.

I started blogging at Blogspot under an assumed name, and it was a grand old time. Then, around 2007, I launched Punk Rock HR. Although I used my real name on the website, times and trends were weird. A catchy alias was still very important to establish a character and brand.

But I wasn’t all that punk rock. The title of my blog was just an insult — I wore Doc Martens to work in 1995, and my boss said something like, “Who do you think you are? Punk Rock HR?”

And I was like, “You look warm. Why don’t you take off one of those eleven fancy scarves tied around your neck before you pass out from a hot flash?”

HR bitches always be hatin’!

Thanks to horizontal envy and female-on-female competition, an identity was born. However, it wasn’t an identity that could sustain itself throughout my 30s. So, I started blogging under The Cynical Girl because that’s what my high school boyfriend called me.

Finally, in 2012, I was like — enough of this nonsense. My friend Josh called me Laurie Fucking Ruettimann while making fun of my diva-like qualities, and I decided to drop the middle initial and just start writing under my real name.

I’m here to tell you that it was the best thing I’ve ever done for my professional career.

Catchy names and identities are cute, and they are the hallmark of early writers and content creators who are feeling themselves out. What’s your tone? Who’s your audience? Why do you write? You can do that under fake identities and funny personal brands.

But you can write about HR, recruiting, talent, benefits, relationships, communication, leadership, AI, technology, blockchain, RPO, organizational development, organizational effectiveness, and executive compensation under your own name. In fact, you should.

While you’re being insecure and assuming an identity, people who are less interesting and less funny than you are mopping up the market with articles about the future of work. And while you think you’re being catchy and creative with your hokey identity, you’re not.

You’re being ignored by people who should know your name.

So, it’s fine to be a newbie and create memes and blogs and movements under an assumed or secondary identity and with 72 other social media accounts. But don’t do it for long. The world is waiting to be entertained and educated in your authentic, honest voice.

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