Ms. Tannenbaum's Holiday Survival Tips

Greetings dear readers!

It's that time of year for spreading cheer, or at least avoiding cynicism and depression until they are over.  Personally, the holidays, well, just Christmas, depress me a bit. Celebrating in the workplace is generally awkward at best and downright miserable and wrong at worse.

So, my gift to you this year, dear reader, are my tips for getting through the holidays at work.

Bosses, I'm talking to you...

1. This is the big one. If you haven't given raises or cost of living increases to your employees all year, no one wants to go to your lavish home for a 'mandated' office party.  Honestly, they do not. One dear reader was forced to attend their boss' house party last year after a third year of no pay increases despite substantial income producing successes for the company stemming from her efforts. While at his home, his wife gleefully hosted a tour of the "House That New Money Built." The tour included a viewing of their art collection of which, as if seeking sympathy, she exasperatingly shared the price for each piece. While your staff will not be comfortable staging "Occupy My Boss' House," they'll wish they could.

2.  Again, if you haven't given raises or cost of living increases to your employees all year, taking them to a lavish lunch (or dinner) is frankly, lame. Take the $50 per plate and give them the cash. Even a token amount will be well appreciated. A bag of groceries is more meaningful than a lavish lunch.

3. If your company is actually practicing austerity measures from the top down, a BYOBFD (Booze, Food and Desserts) party or cheap lunch will only be a sad reminder of how broke the company is. Instead, give your staff an extra two days (paid) off. Christmas is on a Sunday this year, so, let your employees take Friday and Monday off.  C'mon. You know it's in the budget.  Besides, how much work really gets done on those days? Not only will your employees be grateful to you, so will their families.

4. If you know your employees will be pitching in to buy you a gift, insist, and insist LOUDLY, that they NOT do that. Tell them, preferably in writing, that the gift they bring to you is the amazing contribution of talent and hard work that they give to your company.

Employee Survival Tip

So, if you’re stuck having to do one of the above and your job doesn't require drug testing, bake some weed brownies, bring them to the party as your contribution (for your colleagues only-and let them know!) and don't drink (especially if alcohol serves as a truth serum for you). This way, you can enjoy the hypocrisy of the event, find it funny and your boss will only think you're having a great time.

So here's to hoping you get through the holidays at work!

As an alternative to holiday party hoopla, reach out to a homeless shelter* and get your office to adopt several families to purchase gifts for. Many shelters won’t have a problem allowing you to meet the families that will receive your bounty. This is not only in the holiday spirit; it builds team spirit as well. Another option is to give a shelter the gift of volunteerism-as a company, commit a number of volunteer hours for the next year and ask them how you could be useful. Or, if actual eye-eye contact with people in need is hard on the boss, organize a financial contribution to a homeless shelter on behalf of your company and get everyone to sign the card.

*Homeless shelters are Ms. Tannanbaum’s charity of choice. Choose your own. Just one that helps people in need. Not the local chamber of commerce, museums, dance companies or the boss' alma mater.

Ms. Tannanbaum's favorites charities:

The amazing work of Mark Horvath: Invisiblepeople.tv

The production of a powerful documentary about homelessness: http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1550578903/home-a-kindling-group-documentary?ref=live

The Buffalo Boy Foundation: thebuffaloboyfoundation.org

Find a shelter near you: http://www.nationalhomeless.org/

Part One of The Early Years: My First Dingus Boss

So, over dinner the other night (cocktails, guacamole and these great pickles I get every week from the farmer’s market Pickle Guy) Lover Man and I were reminiscing about the jobs we had while on the way to something else.  For Lover Man, these were the jobs prior to his punk band management days. For me, it was everything I did prior to becoming an Executive Director at a smallish organization.

Except for the year I worked for a crooked lawyer, (who, before carted off to jail, remains the nicest boss I ever had), all the paid jobs I held prior to becoming a boss myself were physically demanding. 

My early jobs fell into two categories-jobs I hated and jobs I despised.

What moved the job hate/despise needle was the manager.

Our first job out of high school, my roommate, Rebel Girl and I worked at a record packing factory. (L.P. records, and yes, there was an entire factory devoted to this. Today it's done out of some guys basement).

We worked on the conveyer line where we pulled records and placed them vertically in a cardboard box.  Besides leg and foot cramps caused by standing on a concrete floor for hours, the job was simple.

What tipped this job into the despised camp was our manager, Fran (name not changed). Even today, my chest tightens just thinking about “FFFurAnnnn,” the Bitch of Highest Proportion (BoHP).

She seemed about 60 at the time but in hindsight she was probably in her 30's. Her shellacked black hair was teased into a high Diana Ross (Surpremes era) beehive. Her heavy black Cleopatra inspired eyeliner, her blue powder eyeshadow and bright pink no-fade Covergirl lipstick made Amy Winehouse (R.I.P., troubled child) seem demure. To complete her look, she wore nothing but pink. Typically this meant pink polyester pants, pink button up blouses and white vinyl boots.

The BoHP could have have been a beloved boss based on her strong fashion statement alone.

But no.

She had to go and ruin her admirable 1950‘s slut allure with her psychotic prison guard management techniques.

A stopwatch affixed to a pink lanyard around her neck, the BoHP was clearly proud of her ability to count to sixty. As in sixty seconds to a minute. Sixty minutes to an hour.

The BoHP’s expectation was that we would pack one record per second.  To ensure this, the BoHP  stood at the top of the line pounding a fist on her steel rolling desk. Like a loud and angry metronome, she counted out the seconds. “60! 59! 58! 57...”  If we missed more than three beats, she'd scream, "DOCUMENTED!!!!!"

We were allowed two 5-minute  bathroom breaks. Stepping back from the line announcing “Bathroom!,” the BoHP escorted you to the locked bathroom.  Standing outside the door, the BoHP counted down from from 5-minutes announcing each minute that passed. If you were still there at 04:30 minutes, the door opened as she screamed out the final thirty seconds.

At noon, punching out for our unpaid 30-minute lunch, the BoHP left us alone. If it was nice out, we ate at the old picnic tables in front of the factory.  Afraid of snitches, no one talked, complained or commiserated. Most of us didn’t even know each others names. Best to just look at the table.


We worked there for 6 months when on a Friday night, Rebel Girl
had an epiphany. “Let’s ‘borrow’ (her boyfriend) Rebel Guy’s convertible and drive to Colorado!!” Once during a visit with her Colorado Rebel Cousin, she was persuaded to try mushrooms. As a result, her psychedelic memory of Colorado is of candy-colored mountains, talking birds and stars that came down from the sky and hugged her. Ever since that visit she wanted to go back. “We can live in campsites ‘til the money runs out!” After about 5 seconds of deep thought, I agreed to skip out on our rent and head west with her.

The following day, we left a little before noon.  Rebel Girl decided we should drive past the Record Factory.  We slowed wayyyy down. It was a nice day so some of the employees were sitting silently at the picnic tables. Suddenly, Rebel Girl blasted the horn and like a punk rock prom queen, I stood and waved my longest finger in the air screaming "FFF-UCCCKKKK YOU, FFFFURANNNN!"

A few people looked up and smiled. Two guys that worked on my line tapped their chests with their fist. I like to think that the BoHP was watching and her stopwatch skipped a second.

Then, with the wind in our hair and Dark Side of the Moon blaring on the 8-track (an ancient portable machine used for music playback), we moved to Colorado and lived in the Rocky Mountain National Park for nearly six months.

Lest I further indulge in memories that often feel like they belong to someone I don't much know, here are the nuggets of management wisdom that I gleaned.

1. Mean bosses suck. Don't be one because actually, they more than suck. They are psychologically damaging. The impact of a temperament of someone like the BoHP could  be devastating-either internally (validating an already insecure employee's sense of worthlessness) or externally (exercising their right to bear arms and use them).

2. Work environments that feel like jail create employees that act like inmates.

As in prison, some of the personalities that emerge are:

•  "Fish" who are newcomers and targets for the prior newcomers
• "Rats" who seek preferential treatment from the guards by providing information to the  guards.
• "Gorillas" who seek respect from their peers through their unpredictability and general meanness.
• "Swag Men" who steal inexpensive items.
•  "Sheep" who are filled with fear.

3. Just because someone has an amazing sense of style doesn't mean they're cool.

4. Finally, sometimes running away is the best thing. Clears the mind. Gives you a new perspective. Keeps you from killing someone. Things like that.

For more information on inmate behavior check out:

Answering the Call with Barry Evert at  http://www.correctionsone.com/correctional-psychology/articles/3261117-The-4-inmate-personality-types/

Prisons: Prisoners - Inmate Subcultures And Informal Organizations - Inmates, Gang, and Roles

<a href="http://law.jrank.org/pages/1796/Prisons-Prisoners-Inmate-subcultures-informal-organizations.html">Prisons: Prisoners - Inmate Subcultures And Informal Organizations</a>

Criminogenic Effect of the Prison Environment on Inmate Behavior: Some Experiential Evidence by Scott D. Camp, PhD and Gerald G. Gaes, PhD for the National Institute of Justice http://www.bop.gov/news/research_projects/published_reports/cond_envir/camp_gaes_c&d.pdf

The Society of Captives by Gresham M. Sykes  https://www.msu.edu/~huebner2/CJ365/May%2030,%202001.PDF

Stay tuned because Part Two and Part Three of "The Early Years"will discuss what I learned as a waitress, which was my career of choice after I returned from Colorado and the effect Punk Rock had on my later career as a boss.

A SHOUT OUT to Lover Man for telling me my first version of this post sucked.

Let me know what YOU think...click in one of the "So, whadaya think?" circles below. No personal information required.

Don't tell your employees you'll decide about their vacation when you get back from vacation

Ok, so scouring the travel sights for the cheapest airfare on your IPhone has become part of your morning long "bathroom moments." If bathroom travel scouring isn't humiliating enough,  your (fill-in the blank-spouse, lover, partner, stranger you woke up with, mother) expresses concern that you'll get hemorrhoids from sitting on the toilet for so long. And, if the threat of hemorrhoids aren't sad enough- the fact that your butt-busting efforts to find an affordable airfare to get you to....where? An all-inclusive resort in Mexico where you can float up to the bar for a sunny cocktail? Your distant aunt's chalet in the French Alps? A zip line adventure in Costa Rica? 

No. 

You're trying to go see your parents in Chicago. Chicago in the summer, no less. Sure, there are all those great street festivals. But since you grew up in the city, the thought of partying in the streets with the drunk bro's home from the frats for the summer only brings up nasal memories of vomit. 

You love your parents, you talk with them constantly. They got an iPad so they can bother you incessantly with FaceTime. However, would going home be your first choice for a vacation? Probably not. But it's cheap. While you're old room is now used for eBay storage, your old bed is still in good shape after 20 years. And, even though you can't float up to your mom's breakfast bar in the morning, she does fry up Mickey Mouse shaped  pancakes with chocolate chip eyes made to order.

So, there it is. You figure you have about a week to buy that seat on the plane. You've timed it well. A big meeting that your boss has planned (ok, well, actually you planned it, he just plans on coming) will be over the day before you leave. You get two weeks of vacation a year (only one that is paid, the other is like a week you can take off without being sick or AWOL). 

With sore butt and solid plans you check the company calendar on the bus on the way in to see when your boss is available today for you to make the big ask. Nothing is on his calendar. Strange. Since his secretary makes all of his personal appointments as well, it's unusual to see a day without meetings, therapy, coaching, toastmaster classes, yoga or personal training appointments. Maybe there's a glitch in the calendar syncing. 

Entering the office, it's upbeat, people are smiling, drinking coffee, talking to one another. Oh no. This can only mean one thing. Your boss has taken one of his spontaneous vacations (which he is prone to do as he likes to keep people "on their toes"). Your fear is validated when his assistant tells you "it's a good one this time-he drove up to Sonoma, which is a two day drive, so even if he drives up there, stays for a glass of wine and turns around to come home, it's a five day reprieve."

What to do? You've emailed him while he's on vacation before. His therapist, coach and yoga teacher counsel him to "tune out the stress of work and be present in your vacation space."  Fortunately, he's a control freak, so this is just about impossible for him. You turn your computer on, and send your request out to his work and personal email. 

Day one. No response.

Day two. You try his cell phone. It goes to voice mail. You send another email.

Day three. Around 1pm, his name pops up in your inbox.

Subject: RE Vacation Request.

Body of email: Hi There! The coast is beautiful! I forgot how beautiful the ocean is! We've been meandering our way to wine country-you know what my therapist says-it's the journey, not the destination! ;)

Hey, I know you want to take that long weekend off in 6 weeks, but I think you might need to be around the day after our meeting to wrap up any loose ends. I'll get back to you when I get back from vacation.    Hugs!

By the time he gets back, the airfare has nearly doubled. He's back two days when he decides to approve your time off. It's no longer in the budget. You try to cobble frequent flyer mile donations from your Mom and Grampa, but there aren't any summer flights left on a Friday.

You start planning for the winter holidays. 

You'll ask Santa for a new job this year.