Revelations of the Daughta' of an Awesome Dad

Recently I read a blog post titled "5 Revelations of an Awesome Dad," and loved it. The blog writer, a father of 2 girls, explains how his point of view of little girls has changed over the years. (Check out the blog post here.) The post got me thinking about my own childhood, my own father, and how society has changed over the years…errr…decades.

I am grateful that I have a dad who is a benchmark for how men should behave. I have never had any idea other than that a man should treat me as a partner and an equal. By example, my dad showed me that a good husband:

• Loves his wife and treats her kindly
• Supports his wife in whatever endeavor she takes on (even if he doesn't understand her desire to suffer for a personal goal achievement like further education, endurance sports etc.)
• Takes on an equal amount of the household chores. I also learned that this doesn’t mean splitting each chore equally, but rather splitting the total of the work to be done. Each can gravitate to their interests or strengths, as long as the work is divided fairly.

My dad also taught me that it is ok to speak my mind. We faced off frequently, loudly, and often to the great unease of the rest of the family at the dinner table, but it taught me to argue back and to stand up for myself. And while he may not have actually enjoyed it in the moment, he never discouraged me from sharing my ideas or point of view. That has helped me greatly in my career and in life in general. My ideas may not all be the best, my opinions might not match those of other people, but they are mine, they have value, and I'm ok with that.

I am also grateful that the world is evolving so that:

• Fathers want to teach their daughters all the things they teach their sons. As the blog author says, "Everything I could do with a boy, I can do with my daughters. I can play basketball, teach them how to throw a punch, and play in the dirt."
• Girls choosing "boy" hobbies or Halloween costumes, or Boys choosing "girl" hobbies or Halloween costumes are more accepted
• I've seen many Facebook posts this year about boys who wanted to be Elsa for Halloween, or girls that wanted to be Spiderman. And their parents haven't put a stop to it, but have encouraged them to be their heroes and recognize the traits that make those characters heroes worth emulating.

Young girls, and probably boys too, struggle so much with defining who they are and who they want to be. Let's not make it more difficult by trying to force them into what we perceive as their roles. Rather, let's be role models by living according to our own strengths, callings and ideals.

So thank you, Dad, for all of the things you did that shaped me. I am who I am in large part because of what you showed me and because you allowed me to be me.

Stories

"I am a storyteller at heart."

I've used this line many times in my career and it is the truth. I've used it to explain my attraction to Marketing, and why I moved into Marketing Research. "I love digging around to find the best story to tell," I would explain when my coworkers asked me why a social person like myself wanted to work with numbers. My career has since taken yet another left turn as I've gotten into Human Resources, and greenfield startups. Yet my favorite part of the job is still when I get to sit with a small group and explain the journey that my company has traveled to get to where we are today, and how that positions us for the future.

Until recently, I had never even paused to consider the storyteller aspect in my life outside of work. It is so much a part of me I can't seem to think of it as merely a piece of my personality. It is a defining aspect. And I'm sure anyone who knows me could attest to this.

Now, I never claimed to be a good storyteller, mind you, only that it is something that I like to do. I have family and friends who are much more gifted storytellers than I. My brother and my mom are two of the most gifted writers I know. I get exceptionally excited when I see a long email or Facebook post from one of them, because I love to lose myself in the way they tell their stories. My grandmother teaches and entertains whole congregations, but the stories she tells of her own life are my favorites. Give my uncle a campfire and an attentive audience and he will have you all clutching your stomachs from laughter within a few minutes. Another uncle is actually internationally acclaimed for his ability to choose the stories  to bring to life on his stage; stories that will bring an audience to rolling laughter, stunned silence or half-hidden tears. My "little" cousins (who are now in full-fledged adulthood) are better writers and spoken storytellers than I could ever hope to be. The youngest joined the fray during last year's Thanksgiving, captivating a normally… how can I say this…boisterous family with tales of his college life, to all of our delight.

And those are just the storytellers that I know personally! There are countless authors whose stories are so well written that I have completely lost myself in their pages. Nonfiction and fiction have both transported me to different worlds. Orson Scott Card, Barbara Kingsolver, Jeffrey Deaver, Patrick Rothfuss, Bill Bryson, Elizabeth Gilbert, and Isabelle Allende to name a few. And movies and television programs with characters so real that when I talk about them you would think I was talking about a friend I've known since elementary school. (Remember that time when Ross and Rachel were on a break?)

I collect them all. I don't simply mean that I like to listen to or read stories and file them away. That is the mere beginning of it! What I mean is that the best ones shape me. They become a part of who I am. My family will gleefully tell you of how I have adopted and adapted their memories. Stories of family dogs, long gone by the time I was born, have been told so many times that I know them by heart and will tell them as my own.

But it goes far beyond the silly, family-pet stories. Often I identify so deeply with other people's stories that I incorporate them into myself. I feel inordinate pride at my friends' successes and indescribable heartache at their struggles and tribulations. By extension, I have been dumped countless times and lost several loved ones. I've lost myself… and found myself. I've peeked under the covers of marriage at the giddiest hope, the deepest fulfillment, and recoiled at the devastation of divorce.

I probably spend half of my life gathering stories from books, from friends and family, or creating my own through whatever experience I can and whatever sights I can see (not all who wander are lost, you know). The other half of my time is sharing them. (Did I ever tell you about the time I slipped getting out of the hot-tub? No? Oh well…another time.) There are pieces of my favorite books that I have read aloud so many times that I have convinced myself of the author's intended tone and inflection. I simply cannot wait to read those pieces to someone who I know - I just know! - will enjoy them as much as I do.

Because, what is the most important part of a story? The audience! That's why writing has never been as much fun for me; it is too far removed from the audience. I need to see and feel the audience's reaction. I take after my uncle in this regard. The better the audience, the more exciting his stories!

In the end, all I can say is 'thank you'. Thank you, to all of the people who read to me as a child, who sat around the dinner table or campfire for hours sharing stories, and who allowed me into your lives enough to witness your stories first-hand. You are a part of me. Your stories have shaped who I am.

And thank you to all the audiences who have listened to my stories at the dinner table, or readings of favorite book excerpts… or have read my rambling posts :-)

What can I say? I am a storyteller at heart.

An Old Girls’ Club

I’ve been thinking off and on about an excellent post I read by Kenia Perez on Daily Worth, a website featuring a “free, daily email about finance for women.” Kenia’s post asks why there is no Old Girls’ Club. Men often get together for non-career-related reasons (watching or playing sports, poker etc.) and build casual relationships that sometimes help them in their careers later down the road. The purpose of their get-togethers is not to get ahead, but they are not shy about helping one another out, or about asking for each other’s help, should the opportunity arise.

Women, on the other hand, do not seem to do this as often. We either develop strong, intimate relationships that we wouldn’t dare abuse for career purposes, or join networking and professional organizations solely for these purposes.

I even find myself compartmentalizing my life. Professional contacts in one bin, personal contacts in another. Contacts are not used for purposes outside of their bin. Why? I have worked with some amazing people (men and women) who I would love to maintain contact with, even if our professional lives do not cross again. And I have some good friends who could offer great advice on various aspects of a career. Why do I struggle to keep them separate?

On a different vein, how would an Old Girls’ Club start? Again, the purpose of this kind of group would not be career development, but some other common interest. Hopefully it would be a collection of women from different ages, walks of life, careers, etc. What bonds us? A few things that come to mind are books, great TV shows (Grey’s Anatomy, anyone?), cooking, art, exercise and for me, dance.

So, ladies, let us go forth and gather around common interests. And let’s not be afraid to ask for each other’s advice, contacts or help when the opportunity presents itself.

Let us create an Old Girls’ Club!

Crossroads

A great post by a friend and colleague that hits especially close to home for me right now. http://jryanliving.com/post/609061074/tim-ferriss-living-well

New Incentives for Women Executives

For weeks now, I have had an interesting article laying on the sidelines as I buckled down to focus on time-sensitive issues. However, this article (Los nuevos incentives para atraer ejecutivas a la alta dirección) piqued my interest and has be rolling around in my head ever since.

The article discusses how many women ‘associate a successful career with personal sacrifice,’ perhaps in terms of family, friends, religion etc. Basically they believe that a successful career will take away their work-life balance and lean heavily towards the “work” end of the scale. And perhaps they are right. After all, to get ahead one supposedly must work harder and longer than his/her peers, which inherently takes that time away from other things.

However, the most interesting part of the article to me was the way that companies are adapting to this situation. Companies that do not want to promote their female employees to higher positions to take advantage of their unique skills are looking for ways to ensure this work-life balance throughout the employee’s career. What they have found is that a salary increase does not entice women in the same way as their male counterparts. Instead, these companies have found that the biggest difference in incentivizing is made by offering flexible working hours. Other benefits include, daycare centers, gyms, healthy habits etc., but flexible work schedules are the most popular.

As a woman, I can say that this definitely holds true for me. In my current position I work 9 hour days in exchange for having every other Friday off. This perk has made a huge difference in my life over the past two years. With habitual three-day weekends, I have been able to take several mini-vacations within Chile and to its neighbors. Also, to my company’s benefit, I have used these Fridays off to complete many errands that would otherwise have cut into my work time (visa applications, doctor appointments, etc.).

In a perfect world, I would take this one step further and work from home a few days a week. My job is mostly done by online research, email and phone calls, making my physical location often irrelevant. And while I believe it would be important to report to the office at least one day a week for meetings, central database updating and other such tasks, I would relish the opportunity to blast my music, work through lunch, and get up and stretch freely without worry of bothering my colleagues. I learned to work this way in college, when I first began developing myself as a professional, and it has been difficult for me to re-learn the way I work in order to conform to the inherent rules of an office.

What about you? Would a flexible work schedule or other benefit prompt you to strive for that promotion? How do you work best? In a suit? In Pj’s? Surrounded by colleagues or in privacy?

Importance of Security

Last week I wrote about the unfortunate incident of my iTouch being stolen and my incredible luck that it was returned to me. The whole incident got me thinking about the importance of safety and security, especially for those who are living in a foreign country as I am. (Foreign country here is defined as “not the country where one was born or raised.”)

In general, I feel very safe living in Chile. According to the US Department of State’s travel information, “Crime rates are low to moderate throughout Chile and are moderate in Santiago, Valparaiso, and other major cities. American citizens visiting Chile should be as careful in cities as they would be in any city in the United States,” (emphasis added). And while it is true that foreigners here are more likely to be pick-pocketed, and even Chileans are subject to this risk, the occurrence of violent crimes is very low. And let’s face it, I think we would all prefer to have our iTouches (or cell phones, cameras, cash etc.) stolen without our knowledge than to be the victim of a violent crime.

But my feeling of security here is not just a product of the ‘low to moderate’ crime rates. A very important part of my story was the fact that I went to the police with my problem, and had no qualms about doing so. The police in Chile are respectable. Do not ever try to bribe a Chilean policeman, because just the attempt can get you into further trouble! I have visited several Latin American countries, and there are some in which I would not even ask a policeman for directions for fear that he could ‘direct’ me into an organized crime game. And there are others in which the policeman would have said, “I’ll get your iTouch back for you for only $100,” instead of the $200 that the gentleman was asking for.

These things are not limited to Latin America either. I know a woman who was traveling through Italy with a friend of hers and was walking through Rome when they were stopped by the police. The police threatened to charge them with drug charges if the women did not go with them. They were holding each woman by the upper arm, hard enough to leave bruises, and would not let go. Without responding, and trying to keep their calm, the two women proceeded to a city bus that was stopped nearby (with the policemen still on their arms and still threatening drug charges) and were able to board, leaving the policemen behind.

I cannot imagine living with that type of insecurity on a daily basis. The fact that in Chile the security figures can be trusted has gone a long way to give me peace of mind.

In Which My iTouch is Stolen

Last week I went out after work with a fellow gringa ex-pat. Neither of us could bear the thought of a Saint Patrick’s Day without at least a sip of a frothy beverage. Plus it was a great excuse for some good, old-fashioned girl talk. We had a great time too…right up until my iTouch was stolen.

That’s right, my iTouch was stolen. Now those of you who know me know that I use my iTouch all the time. I listen two at least two podcasts a day, am currently reading two books through two separate applications, listen to music at work, track all of my to do’s, have all of my contacts, show pictures, talk to friends on skype, set timers for whatever recipe I’m trying, and have at least three repeating alarms set.

(Ok, I may have a problem)

Needless to say I was a bit distraught. But, miracle of miracles, the following afternoon a gentleman called saying he had found my iTouch! Hallelujah! I rejoiced for about 3 minutes, then started to wonder how he had happened to find my iTouch several metro stops away from where I had been and happened to be so kind as to call me to return it. My mother and my best friend doubled and tripled my apprehension with stories of kidnaps and worse. But I found a friend who was willing to go with me to recover the iTouch, in the nice gentleman’s office building, in the middle of the afternoon on a workday. All was well and right with the world…until…

The same gentleman called me again saying, “I was embarrassed to tell you this yesterday, but I didn’t find the iTouch, I bought off of someone in the street it thinking it was an iPhone. I paid US$200 for it, and of course I would be happy to give it back to you, but I hate to lose the money…”

As my Chilean colleague would say, “¡CUEK!”

Great. A shakedown.

Well there’s no way I was going to spend US$200 for my own iTouch when I could get a new one for that price. After a lot of back and forth, I told the not-so-gentle-man that I needed to see for myself what condition the device was in.

So my colleague and I went off to the location, passing by a police stand on the way. We stopped and told my story to the policeman, who reinforced that it is illegal to buy stolen goods in the street, illegal to keep a stolen item should you find it, and illegal to ask me for money for a stolen iTouch.

Of course we all realized that there was no way I could walk in with the policeman without the guy disappearing forever, along with my iTouch. So the policeman gave me his cell phone number and waited while I went to see Mr. Cunning with my iTouch.

Mr. Cunning gave me my iTouch to prove that it was in perfect condition (which it was). I thanked him and told him I wasn’t going to pay him $200 but as a thank you for returning it to me I wanted to give him something, and I gave him $20. He was happy until he realized how much it was, and then he said, “but this is so little”…to which I responded “but it’s my iTouch.” Period. He tripped over some words and then left.

TADAAA! I have my iTouch back!